No such luck.
She had spent five months trying to forget the scandalous Norseman. In vain. And now that he was in front of her, she understood why. It was not the crystal blue eyes, striking as they may be, that drew her to him. Nor was it the intricately braided hair falling over his shoulders, even if she had never seen anything like it before she’d set foot in the village where her friend now lived. Or even his impressive height and body, though she certainly remembered the advantages his strength could offer. It was the gleam in his eyes, the mirth lurking under the surface, the smile always ready to burst out.
Sven was someone anyone would have been drawn to, a man any lone soul would have found attractive, a lover any woman would dream of having.
“Alva, now that you’re?—”
“What did you just say?” Eahlswith interrupted. Had he insulted her in Norse?
“I called you Alva.”
“That is not my name.”
Sven gave her what she imagined was his naughtiest smile. “I know it’s not, but since you never told me your actual name, I had to make one up for you.”
Why? Why had he needed to give her a name in his mind? Her heart fluttered in what felt suspiciously like pleasure. If he’d thought never to see her again and hadn’t minded, then he wouldn’t have bothered. He would simply have forgotten her. But, far from that, he had jumped on her at the first opportunity to speak to her. It looked like he most decidedly had not forgotten her.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a hip again the fence. Did he have any idea how that move made him appear? Both lethal and approachable. Both intense and mischievous. Such a combination should not exist, should not make sense. And yet it did.
Just like her feelings for him. They should not exist, yet they were burning a hole in her chest.
“What is your real name then?” he asked. The naughty smile had still not completely disappeared.
“Eahlswith.”
Telling him felt so absurdly intimate.
“Eahlswith. It’s beautiful. I’ve never met anyone by this name before.”
Why did it feel as if he’d told her something of significance? She had no idea, but it was clear that she could not behave naturally in front of this man. Perhaps it was little wonder, given the way he looked, the heat in his gaze when he looked at her—and the memory of their fiery encounter playing on her mind.
“It’s cold. Will you come inside, have a drink with me?”
“I…” Could she accept? Of course, she was free to do what she liked. Should she?
No.
“Yes.”
The word shot out of her mouth, and she forced herself not to change her mind. After all, she was thirsty. Well, not really, but she might be in a moment, and it was better to have a drink before setting off for town. Yes, probably. One could never be too prudent.
“This way.”
She followed, though she already knew the way to his hut, which only increased her uneasiness. How many women had he taken home with the intention of tumbling them into his bed? It was better not to wonder.
As soon as Sven had closed the door behind her, Eahlswith was transported back to the night they had shared in the summer. Her gaze landed on the table where he had sat her while he knelt on the floor and burrowed under her skirt. Her spasms of pleasure had been so fierce that she’d thought never to get up again. As if he’d sensed it, he had picked her up and pinned her against the wall. Keeping her trapped between the smooth stone and his equally hard body, he’d buried himself inside her and forced her into a second, even more shocking release. Then instead of following her into the abyss, he had brought her down to the pallet and thrust into her with astounding skill and determination.
Her world had exploded and she wasn’t sure the pieces had all come back into place just yet. Wasn’t sure they ever would.
“What would you like?” His deep voice cut through her thoughts.
Another night with you.
Could she tell him as much? Could she admit it to herself?
“I have ale or milk. Or I could go get some mead from my neighbor.”
Eahlswith blinked at him. He wanted to know what she wanted to drink, of course. That was why she was here, not to be stroked with tender care, licked with wicked intent or fucked until she dissolved in ecstasy.
