“Would you like to hold my sword?” Magnus asked from behind her.
She turned too quickly and ran into his chest, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The thick scent of leather enveloped her as she looked up into his gaze. He held her steady and grinned. Did he know the effect he had on her? He shifted and for a brief moment she thought he was about to kiss her and so she parted her lips and sucked in a breath. His eyes grew wide as he whispered her name.
“Ah there you are,” Gunnar said from the door.
Elspeth shook her head and stepped back with heat rising to her cheeks. She was mortified by her wanton behaviour. She’d not been raised to tempt a man, but clearly she’d misunderstood his intentions and now he must think her a loose woman. Would the mortification never cease!
“We have business to discuss with MacAlpin that cannot wait,” he said.
“We will be there momentarily,” Magnus said, not taking his gaze from her.
Elspeth was pinned to the spot as long as Magnus stared at her like that. So many thoughts ran through her head she wanted to form into words, but they all melded together and formed only one—the image of his lips on hers and her arms slung around his neck. She was wanton. Father Fothad would have a great deal of praying to do for her once she returned to Alba. Magnus Haraldson was just a bit more adventure than she had anticipated when she’d stowed away on her brother’s galley.
She believed him wholeheartedly when he said he would never put her in harm’s way, but who would protect her heart from succumbing to his irresistible—was there a word that could describe him? Her body felt what it felt, and her brain was muddled, but she had no words to define either sensation.
“Come, let us return to the hall. My brother will insist on a feast later and you will need to be well rested for it.”
Magnus stepped back to let her pass and sucked in his breath as their bodies brushed against the other when she did. She walked on ahead only glancing back once to see him adjusting his tunic.
CHAPTER FOUR
Magnus watched her walk ahead of him enjoying every step. His mind buzzed with the memory of her leaning toward him in the armoury. He’d known plenty of women in his time, and many were forward, but not this woman. She emanated a charm he was drawn to, but he wondered if she was even aware of it. Perhaps she was magic. In either case, he wanted to know more about her.
The hall was a buzz by the time they returned. Vigdis quickly whisked away Elspeth saying something about a gown. The latter glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him which made his breath catch in his throat. By Odin, she was beautiful! Few women in his time had ever captivated him quite like she did. He realized his damned trews were too tight. He vowed that before the feast, he would remove them and go bare legged. At least then he would be able to breathe.
“What is this business we must discuss with MacAlpin?” he asked Gunnar when he located him giving instructions to the cook. The latter looked mesmerized.
“Best you can do, then. This is an important feast, and we intend to honour our guests.”
“Brother, what’s going on?”
“We have much to discuss and celebrate,” he said and clapped Magnus on the shoulder.
“Am I to guess? Or will you spit it out?”
Gunnar could be impossible sometimes. Magnus watched the grin spread across Gunnar’s face. He was delighted about something.
“Oh for Thor’s sake will you just tell me what’s going on?”
“It appears our sister is to be wed,” he said.
“Vigdis?”
“Aye, unless there’s another sister you have that I don’t know about. The very one will be married to The MacAlpin. They don’t want to rush the nuptials, but are happy to announce their intentions while they’re here.”
“Saga will be disappointed to miss it,” Magnus said.
“MacAlpin’s sister will have to do for this feast. Vigdis plans to travel to stay with her sister over the winter months and have her wedding there in the spring. They’ll return her for the supper and have our ceremony then.”
“It will be lonely here over the winter with all the women gone.”
“Aye, and that’s the other reason I wanted to talk to you. I understand you have an attachment with Bjorn’s sister Yrsa—”
“What? I most certainly do not! Who told you that?”
“She did, earlier when she came to tell me that she was certain you were about to propose to her but was afraid to disappoint me because she wasn’t a Scot.”
This was Loki’s work. “Gunnar—”
