Page 22 of Loving the Blacksmith
He told himself it was for the best, as he might have begged her to reconsider her answer if he’d seen her and the last thing he needed was to make a fool of himself.
Where had she gone? He didn’t think she would have left the village, not this late in the day. At least he hoped she had not. Traveling alone at night was too dangerous for a woman on her own. He forced himself to calm. Agnes was sensible, not prone to inconsiderate actions, so she would have known not to attempt such folly. Perhaps she was with Ingrid. The two of them had become very close in a short time.
Yes, he reflected bitterly, but sometimes, a few days were all the time you needed to know who mattered to you. He’d not known her for longer than Ingrid had and yet it had been enough to convince him she could be the one giving meaning to his life.
As soon as he lay down on the pallet her scent hit him, reminding him she had spent a few nights by his side and couldhave spent many more had she accepted his offer of marriage. With a cry of rage he stood up and hurled the furs against the door. The soft material did not make for a satisfying impact so he sent the earthenware pitcher crashing against the wall instead, where it splintered in a thousand pieces. Much better. His mood darker than it had ever been, Magnus stormed to the forge, where he settled for the night in the back room. The cloth on the pallet smelled of male sweat, courtesy of Sven’s recent visit. Not ideal, but anything was better than being bathed in Agnes’ floral bouquet.
He didnotwant to dream of her.
The next day he did not get out of bed. With no small amount of derision, he reflected that he now understood what Björn had meant about having no reason to get up. For the first time in his life he remained where he was, only getting up to see to his needs and grab a loaf of bread he ate while staring at the ceiling.
The following morning, he forced himself to get up. He refused to become an even more pathetic figure than he already was. And perhaps if he behaved as he normally did, eventually he would heal.
One could only hope.
He started as he did every day, by stoking his furnace. It should have been the work of a moment, but for the first time since he’d taken over the forge, the flames refused to cooperate. What an apt, if dispiriting image that was. He was coaxing the fire back to life in the same way he was trying to breathe some life into his empty soul by pretending everything was normal.
He pressed on the bellows with a new determination. He might not be able to force Agnes or anyone to be with him, but he could bloody well make some wood catch on fire as it was supposed to.
Once he’d finally imposed his will on the stubborn flames, Sigurd’s wife Frigyth walked into the forge, her face wreathed insmiles. His own mood darkened further. How could anyone be happy right now? Though it was a gorgeous sunny day, it seemed to him that everything was grey. In a hope to pound some of the frustration and misery out of him, he’d decided to start on the gate that had been commissioned the day before Agnes’ arrival. In normal circumstances he would have relished the challenging the task represented, but after meeting her, he had lacked the motivation and the time for such a major undertaking. In the evening he’d only wanted to rush out of the forge and be with her. Well, he had time now, and he badly needed to hit at something.
If he completed the gate, at least one good thing might come out of this whole mess.
“Good morning, Magnus,” Frigyth said, ignoring the grunt he’d given her as a greeting.
“Did Sigurd send you to get his nails? I’m sorry, they’re not quite ready yet.” Damnation, he’d only just remembered about that particular commission. Really, where had his mind gone? The answer hit him square in the chest. To the woman who’d stolen his heart.
“No. I came to invite you to a wedding.”
A wedding?
He almost dropped the piece of metal from his tongs. Were the gods intent on torturing him, aided by a petite, friendly Saxon? He didn’t want to hear about weddings right now, when he’d only just been forced to accept thathewould never get anyone to agree to marry him. Could this day get any worse? The last thing he needed to make his humiliation complete was for Sven to walk into the room and announce that he’d happened to be in the clearing the day before and had heard Agnes refuse him.
For the first time in his life, he might well punch his brother.
“Who’s getting married then?” he growled, thinking back to how Agnes had once called him wild. Right now, he felt positively feral. In truth he didn’t care about the wedding, but he had to say something.
“Björn and my sister.” Frigyth laughed. “I don’t think it will surprise you.”
“No,” he said, since that was obviously what was expected of him. But it did surprise him. Hadn’t Björn told him only the day before that the Saxon had refused his offer of marriage? Apparently, she had changed her mind.
He sighed. It seemed that Björn was about to get his dearest wish granted. Magnus did not begrudge the man his happiness but all the same, his guts felt as if he’d been forced to swallow a dozen of his sharpest nails. Was he the only one destined to be left behind?
“So, can you come this afternoon?” Frigyth looked at him curiously, as if she’d understood what he was thinking about.
“This afternoon?” My, that was quick work. There was only one explanation for the haste. The woman had been head over heels in love with Björn all the time as well and had only refused him for a reason that had nothing to do with him. Women. Did they enjoy torturing men?
“Yes. They don’t want to wait another moment.”
Magnus sighed again and threw his hammer on the workbench, utterly defeated. He wouldn’t be making a gate today either. It seemed he’d been right, and the godswereconspiring against him.
“Yes. Of course I will be there.”
Not to see Agnes, he told himself sternly, but because more than ever, he needed to feel he was part of the community. After all, it was the only way to guarantee he did not end up all alone.
Seeingthe love in Björn and Dunne’s eyes as they exchanged their vows would have made everyone cry, Agnes told herself to justify the need to wipe at her eyes. It seemed that, with the right man, marriage did not have to be the prison she had always likened it to. She had no doubt Björn would do nothing to cause his new wife a moment’s displeasure. He would be an attentive husband, and a loving father, nothing like her own had been. Not only would he not mind Dunne bearing him girls, but before the ceremony he had adopted Dawn, the daughter she’d had from her previous union, with as much enthusiasm as if she had been born of his loins.
The new family would be happy together, that was certain.
