A frown. “I’m sorry, I did go to the market this morning but I didn’t see you.”
The blatant lie caused him to clench his teeth. “I was right in front of you.” With those words he walked into the house, not giving her the opportunity to refuse him entry on some false pretext. “Perhaps I’m not big enough for you to see?”
She swallowed as she let her gaze roam over him. “You are big enough. But I swear I didn’t see you.”
“Apparently not. You didn’t hear me or speak to me either, I gather?”
Her brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, I?—”
“Leave it,” he said, reaching for the door, to close it.
This was going nowhere. If she was going to pretend she had not seen him, then there was nothing he could do to force her to admit she had and insisting only made him feel like a fool seeking attention.
“Why did you come to town?” she asked, as if she agreed with him that this conversation was pointless.
Everything within Sven crumpled because with sudden clarity he realized that his efforts would be in vain. Never had he worked so hard at convincing a woman to let him woo her. In fact, he had never thought that wooing could require such determination. Why was he even persisting? It was clear she didn’t want him. Hadn’t she ignored him earlier today, hoping he would take the hint and leave?
“If you really have no idea why I came to a place where you’re the only person I care about, if you don’t understand why I cannot seem to stay away from you, why I allow you make a fool out of me time and time again, then you’re right. I don’t know why I came.” He bunched his hands into fists. “Nor do I see why I should stay.”
Without another word, he turned and made for the door. This was it. He’d given it all his might and he had failed. Eahlswith didn’t want him. She would never accept what she felt for him. The reason why mattered not.
He had lost.
There was nothing to do but leave. And never come back.
A hand landed on his shoulder as he was ducking his head to pass under the low door frame.
“Sven. Please. Don’t go. I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s me.” Eahlswith paused, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze. “This is very hard for me and…you know why.”
She sounded about to cry, more vulnerable and honest than he had ever heard her. Though it gutted him, he didn’t turn around. If he didn’t immediately comply, if he didn’t immediately assure her that he understood her dilemma, she might finally gather the courage to explain what was really going on in her mind.
He closed the door again, signaling he would listen, and waited. After a moment, she carried on.
“It’s Edwin. I can’t… No other man made me feel like he did until you. I didn’t even think it was possible and I had made my peace with it. But then…then you came along and everything was turned inside out. I want to be with you, but I feel like I’m betraying him simply by wanting this and I cannot bear it.”
At last, he turned to face her. She was not a small woman, but he still loomed over her and it did odd things to his insides. It made no sense because he towered over other women as well, and yet it had never provoked any special feeling in him.
“I know.” Yes… Didn’t he know it. “And I’m not asking you to forget the man you loved and wanted to marry. Only to give me—and yourself—a chance.”
They looked at one another, emotion swirling in the air. Eahlswith’s amazing eyes were brimming with tears. When one fell on her cheek, he was surprised to see that it was transparent. For a brief moment he’d had the impression it would be as dark as liquid ink, as black as a moonless night.
“Why did you come, Sven?” she asked, her voice completely different.
“Because I wanted to give you something.”
Her eyes lit up at that, an involuntary reaction that warmed the part of him he’d thought broken beyond repair only amoment ago. As painful as it was to her, she wanted to give him—and herself—that chance he was talking about. She just didn’t know how.
He would have to help her, starting with the gift.
He put his hand in the leather pouch at his belt and extracted the comb Torsten had given him that morning. The elf design had taken longer than the usual decorations but it had been worth it.
“Here. This is for you,” he said, handing her the present. His brother had even made a case for it, decorated with a simple pattern of leaves.
Instead of taking it, she stared at the comb. No wonder she was entranced. It was one of Torsten’s best pieces. White and smooth, with thin, regular teeth, and a beautiful carving on the handle, it was the perfect gift for her. “You made this?”
“No.” He couldn’t help a smile. Once again, she was hoping he’d made a delicate object. But just like the cup and the wicker basket, he had not. “I wish I had. But Torsten is the talented artist.”
What he wouldn’t have given to have half of his brother’s talent in that moment. But he had never been artistically inclined. Torsten could carve whatever he wanted, Eirik was skilled at pottery, Moon could have woven a basket in his sleep, but he was only good where strength was required.
