“You’re not. It’s not a problem.”
The silence stretched between them, neither prepared to back down. Then, Magnus, the blacksmith called out from behind the fence.
“Forgive me, but I couldn’t help but hear your conversation. Agnes and I are going into town now, so you’re welcome to ride with us on the cart if you want.”
“That would be wonderful,” Eahlswith said, beaming at him.
Magnus nodded. “Let me finish loading the last of the tools and we’ll be ready to leave.”
“Thank you. I’ll get my bag and meet you at the forge.”
Sven glared at his father’s friend but the man was already heading back toward the forge. Damnation, why had Eahlswith accepted his offer so readily when she’d refused his? How much longer would this go on for? Every time he thought they were making progress, she pulled back. Months after their first, fiery lovemaking she had welcomed him back in her bed, only to behave as if she regretted it the following morning. The other day she had opened up to him, revealed the reasons behind her reluctance to get involved with a man, but it had led nowhere. She’d been sensible enough to listen to him after seeing him with Freydis and she had asked for time, making him think she was trying to come to terms with what she had come to feel for him. And yet now she was fleeing again, not even allowing him to escort her home, preferring to go with two strangers.
It was maddening, but there was no other choice but to follow her to Steinar’s hut.
He stayed outside while she said her goodbyes to Cwenthryth and the children, then accompanied her to the forge.
“We’re ready when you are,” Magnus called out a moment later. His wife had already taken her place on the cart’s seat.
“Thank you, I’m coming,” Eahlswith replied before turning to face him, her eyes huge with unspoken emotions. “Goodbye, Sven.”
She made the two words sound so final that he couldn’t bear it. Before he knew what he was doing, he had drawn her into a kiss. Though at first she stiffened in surprise, it was not long before she melted into his arms and kissed him back with all the passion she was trying to ignore. Hope flared inside Sven’s chest.No one kissed like that without feeling something for the person in their arms. Perhaps all was not lost, whatever she said.
They drew away, panting slightly.
“You promised you would give me time,” she said, whispering too low for Magnus and Agnes to hear.
“I am giving you time.” Why else would he let her go back into town with other people? Why else would he allow her to leave without any guarantee that they would meet again? “But I never promised not to kiss you.”
She shook her head as his hold around her waist tightened and he thought he detected exasperation mingled with tenderness in her eyes. Finally, he let her go and she headed toward the cart. Magnus helped her up and then took his place in the driver’s seat.
“I’ll see her home safely, don’t worry,” he told Sven, picking up his agitation.
“I know you will.” That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that she was going back home.
Without him.
As the cart pulled away, Sven felt his resolve harden. He’d promised to give Eahlswith time and he would, but he would win this woman over if it was the last thing he did. His sanity might well depend on it.
14
“Torsten. Would you make a comb for me?”
His brother arched a brow in surprise at the request. “I gave you the last one I made barely a fortnight ago. Don’t tell me you’ve broken it already?”
“I haven’t. This one is not for me.”
It was for Eahlswith.
She had been gone for six days now. The longest six days of Sven’s life. He’d never thought himself an impatient man, but he had discovered many things about himself of late. It seemed that when it mattered, he was impatient, jealous, high-handed, unreasonable. Eahlswith had better start accepting what was between them because he didn’t like the man he was turning into. Once his future with her was assured, he would hopefully revert back to the carefree, whimsical person he’d always been.
“The comb is not for you? Who then?” Torsten, the wretched man, crossed his arms over his chest and smiled, appearing delighted. “As if I couldn’t guess. Cwenthryth’s Saxon friend, the one with the dark hair. I saw the way you were looking at her the other day and wondered if you?—”
“Nevermind that. Stop wondering and just make a comb, will you?”
“You are such a charmer, you know that?” Torsten chuckled. “No wonder so many women fall for you, brother mine.”
Yes. Many did, to the point of coming to find him in his bed, but the one he really wanted was proving less easily seduced. Which was the problem.
