Page 2 of Loving the Blacksmith
Quietly, so as not to waken Agnes, he pushed the door of the forge open and walked over to the tool bench. Just as he grabbed the hammer he was looking for, the door to the back room opened—on a surprised, stark naked Agnes.
Everything rushed south at the same time. His heart plummeted to his boots, his blood raced to his groin, his hands fell to his sides and the hammer dropped to the floor, missing his feet by inches.
Magnus stared at the woman revealed in front of him.
He couldn’t help it, he didn’t even try to stop himself. She was too beautiful. He allowed his gaze to roam over her greedily, taking in every glorious inch before fastening on her breasts. Her perfect, round little breasts topped with rosy pink nipples. His throat went dry at the same time as his mouth started salivating. Had he ever seen anything more arousing than her lithe body? No, he had not. The fact that he’d had no warning whatsoever that she was about to walk into the room only made the sight more shocking. Usually, when he saw a woman’s breasts, it was because she was already in his arms, already under him, it was because he’d already made up his mind to have her, and made sure to feast his eyes on her beforehand.
This was nothing like that. He’d been afforded a glimpse of a woman who had not agreed to bare herself to him and the forbidden element added an undeniable thrill to the moment.
He cleared his throat as he placed his hands in front of his crotch. After the way he’d stared at her, the last thing he needed was frighten her with the proof that the sight of her nudity had turned him into a randy stallion ready to cover a mare.
“What in Odin’s name are you?—”
As soon as he spoke, the spell was broken. Agnes shrieked and disappeared back into the room, slamming the door behind her.
It was only then that Magnus saw the gown and shift she had draped by the fire embers to dry overnight. How had he missed them? If he’d seen them, he might have guessed she was naked in the other room and made some noise so as to warn her she was not alone. It would have been a pity though. He regretted shocking her, but he could not regret having seen her. Never had he seen a more graceful, enticing woman. He’d noticed she was pretty when she’d arrived, of course, and on the slender side,but he’d never guessed that once she was naked, her lean body would be so compelling.
“Magnus, are you still here?” The voice was hesitant.
He picked the hammer from the floor before answering. Yes, he was still here, still hard, still stunned. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry, I know this is your forge, but I need you to leave, so I can get dressed. My clothes are in the other room, you see.” She sounded slightly breathless, and he hoped panic was not the cause. He would hate for her to be wary of what he would do now that he had seen her naked. She had nothing to fear, he had no intention of pouncing on her, even if a certain part of his body urged him to do just that. “I washed them last night.”
He walked over to the forge to retrieve the pale blue linen dress and impossibly small shift she had placed on the stool. They looked almost like children’s clothing and a smile tugged at his lips at the thought. There was nothing childish in the body he had seen. Slender as she was, Agnes was all woman. Thus far, only buxom women with generous hips had stirred his blood. Right now he could think of nothing more arousing than the tight little breasts and lean hips he’d just seen.
“Your clothes are still damp, I’m afraid,” he told her, after having ascertained the fact.
A silence. “Oh.” Now Agnes sounded dejected. Good. At least she was not afraid anymore.
“I will go and get you one of my undershirts. It will keep you warm while I go and see if someone in the village has a dress I could borrow for you. Ingrid might do.”
His first thought had been to ask Wolf’s wife, Merewen, whom he knew better than most, but any dress of hers would have swamped Agnes and he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable—or rather, more uncomfortable than she already was.
“Thank you. I don’t mean to be such an imposition.”
“You’re not.”
She was anything but. Impositions didn’t look anything like her. They didn’t make him hard. They didn’t have creamy skin, pert breasts, pink nipples and slim legs. It was impossible not to imagine how that skin would warm under his touch, how those breasts would fit in his hands, how those nipples would feel in his mouth, how those legs would wrap around his waist while he?—
“Are you still here?”
Damnation, yes, he was, and with an erection to rival the hammer he was holding in his clenched fist both in length and in strength. This wouldn’t do. He would have to wait a moment outside the forge before he went hunting for a dress for her. He could not go call on Ingrid in such a state. The poor woman would only take fright.
“Yes. I was only taking some tools I need,” he lied. “I’ll go get the shirt now.”
As she slippedthe oversized shirt over her head, Agnes tried very hard to ignore the scent of it.
Smoky, yet fresh, as if it had been dried outside, masculine yet sweet, as if it had been spread in a flower-strewn meadow. It was Magnus’ scent, as enticing as he was. Everything here was his. It was his shirt, his forge, his life she had disrupted. She now was part of his world, whether she wanted it or not.
And this world was as different as the one she had left behind as night was from day.
Here, she was not insignificant, the daughter of a man who despised her, but a woman in her own right, and beautiful with it. Magnus certainly seemed to think so. His gaze had been as hotas the coals burning in his furnace when he had walked in on her naked earlier and looked his fill. No man had ever looked at her like that before. No man had seen her naked before. No man had made her want to throw herself into his arms. Everything about this was new, unsettling, potentially dangerous.
Not that she feared Magnus, but herself.
Knowing she could not afford to catch their attention, much less stir their desire, she had always avoided men’s company. It was the safest way to act, because the day she gave one the impression she would welcome his advances, all would be lost. He would pounce and she would be powerless to defend herself. She had seen and heard enough of men to know they were ruled by their physical urges, urges that could only put her in danger.
Agnes wrapped the soft shirt around her. It was so big it engulfed her twice over but still it was not enough to chase the chill spreading through her at the thought of a man taking her to bed.
