She blinked again in disbelief. Fucked? Since when did she think such crude words? But that was the only way to describe what Sven had done to her. It had been too intense to be anything else, and anyway, she refused to think that it had been more significant than that.
“Ale will be fine, thank you,” she answered. Anything would be fine at this point, for she was suddenly parched.
He handed her a cup filled with the sweetest smelling, frothiest ale she had ever drunk. Once she’d downed half thecup, she noticed the unusual shape of the earthenware vessel. It was wide and smooth, almost like a bowl and the rim was very thin.
“Did you make this?” Without knowing why, the idea of a man like Sven creating such a delicate object set her nerves aflutter.
“No. My friend Eirik, the one who makes the mead, did. This one was an experiment and, in truth, it is too delicate for me. I never use it, as I’m too afraid of breaking it.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“I know. I’ve seen how you handle delicate objects before. And based on what I saw, I would trust you with anything of mine.”
He winked. The impossible man actually winked at her and, to her utter mortification, Eahlswith did what he had no doubt meant for her to do. She stole a glance at his groin.
He was hard.
What was left of the ale was gone in two gulps and Eahlswith decided to treat herself to another drink. It would help with the furnace burning in her body, would it not?
It did not, because apparently she was in no state to attempt even the simplest of tasks. She was flustered, and the cask was not full, as she’d imagined, but almost empty, and therefore lighter than she’d expected. It happened in the blink of an eye. One moment she was reaching for the tap, the next the cask had toppled off the shelf where it stood, landing straight on her right foot. Somehow, despite the explosion of pain, she managed not to shout. But she did cry out when she saw the beautiful cup on the earthen floor, broken in two. In her distress she had dropped it.
“Oh, no, I’m so sorry,” she cried out, making to reach for the biggest half.
“Don’t worry about the cup,” Sven said, stopping her before she could bend down. “I told you I never used it. But your foot is?—”
“I’ll be fine.”
Yes. Eventually. For now, though, it hurt something fierce.
“But you’re not fine now. Sit down.”
There was a stool to his right. He grabbed it and made her sit on it. Her foot was throbbing so severely that she didn’t protest. How stupid of her. She was not usually clumsy, but neither was she used to dealing with impossibly forbidding men who knew the taste of her most intimate parts.
“Let me see,” Sven said gently, kneeling in front of her.
See? Did he really think she would agree to have him lift her skirt, remove her stocking, take her naked foot into his hands and feel for an injury? With any other man it would have been embarrassing, with him it would be…impossible. Pain or no pain, having his fingers on her would make her want to feel his hand creep higher, until it reached?—
“You don’t need to do that. I’ll go and see Cwenthryth,” she declared, squirming on the stool. “She will know what to do.”
For a moment it looked as if Sven would protest but then he nodded. “Yes, perhaps it is for the best if she deals with it. Come.”
He straightened back up and held out his hand to her. Assuming he wanted to help her get up off the stool, she refused to take it. “I can stand on my own, thank you,” she said, doing just that. “It is not a serious injury, nothing is broken, it’s just a bit painful, that’s all.”
“Yes, I know that, but you cannot walk all the way to Steinar’s hut so I’ll carry you.”
His hand was still extended, he was still waiting for her to take it.
He wanted to carry her. Eahlswith gulped and looked down at herself. She was a grown woman, taller than most, and with curves to match. She would be heavy. “You cannot carry me all the way there. I’m…too heavy.”
He didn’t even blink. Instead, he leaned in toward her. “And I’m no weakling, as you know. Or have you forgotten the way I held you up against the wall while I pounded into you?” he purred into her ear. “I don’t recall hearing any protests then.”
Of course she had not protested, she had been far too aroused for that, and it had felt too good. Still.
“It’s hardly the same,” she said weakly.
“Yes, unfortunately.”
Oh. Her legs suddenly felt too weak to support her, and she knew Sven was going to have to carry her. “I should be able to at least try to?—”
