Page 23 of Loving the Blacksmith
Agnes made her way to village square, and the banquet awaiting them, in a pensive mood. Her lifelong convictions had taken a serious beating this afternoon and she wasn’t sure how to recover.
Once the feast was over and the couples started dancing, Ingrid came to find her, a wistful expression on her face. She sat down on the stool next to her and sighed.
“My big brother married. I can’t believe it.” She sounded rather emotional, and perhaps slightly tipsy after having indulged in a healthy dose of mead during the meal. Linking arms with her, she placed her head over her shoulder. “I wish our parents had been here to see this.”
Agnes knew the two Danes had recently died in a tragic accident so she could only agree. “They would have been happy to see their son marry the love of his life.”
Because that was what was happening. It had not taken her long to understand that the real reason Björn had refused herfather’s suggestion that the two of them marry was that he was in love with another Saxon woman. He’d told her his refusal had nothing to do with her, and he hadn’t lied. It had been motivated by his desire to be with Dunne.
“Yes, I have no doubt he’ll be happy with Dunne, and her little girl,” Ingrid said on another sigh. “Apparently, he’s only ever had eyes for her, ever since they met four years ago. Oh, forgive me, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not?” It was true. Anyone could see the two of them were meant for each other, even if Dunne had fought the evidence at first.
“Because I know you were hoping to marry Björn. And I’ll admit I wanted you to as well.” She made a face. “We would have been sisters then, not just friends. It would have been perfect. We get on so well, don’t you think?”
They did, but Agnes had to rectify her friend’s impression. She had never hoped to marry Björn. Her father had wanted to force him into the match for his own benefit, which was not the same at all. But the Norseman had told her in no uncertain terms he would not agree to it. It was true Agnes had felt the sting of rejection at first, because she had not known his feelings for Dunne at the time. The thought had crossed her mind that if she had to marry against her will, she could do worse than Björn, who was not only stunning to look at but protective and kind as well. Such a man would have made a good husband for anyone, and she might have been able to conquer her fears for him.
However, she had quickly seen that his heart only belonged to one woman, and that woman was not her. It had simply not been meant to be, and had only comforted her in the notion that marriage was not for her.
“That’s not quite what I?—”
The words dried on Agnes’ lips when she spotted Magnus standing at the end of the table, a tankard of ale in his hand.He was staring at her, his eyes ablaze with such fury that it reminded her of the fire he stoked every morning in his forge. How she had missed him the last two nights! Waking up alone and cold had made her see what her existence would be like on her own. True, she wouldn’t have to worry about her health or fear bad treatment if she never married, but she wouldn’t feel any joy either, she wouldn’t have anything to look forward to when she woke up in the morning and no one to cuddle up next to at night.
At the moment, it seemed like a bad bargain.
Watching Magnus at his work, making him laugh, nestling into his warmth as they lay together in bed had been simple pleasures she was not sure she could do without.
It had broken her heart to refuse his offer, and possibly also his. Up until then she had not thought he would, or could, return her budding feelings for him. But it seemed she had been wrong. The look in his eyes when she had refused him had been caused by more than bruised pride.
Was that why he was glowering at her right now? Because he was remembering the pain she had caused him? Unfortunately, it might well be. She had been rather blunt, and had fled before she’d offered him any explanation. Then blood froze in her veins when she realized there was another explanation for his anger. He had heard what Ingrid had said. And he now thought she was in love with Björn and had been hoping to marry him. He would think that was why she had refused his offer of marriage the other day, because she had her eyes set on someone else.
Her stomach dropped to the soles of her feet. This was not the impression she wanted to give, because it was not true. She didn’t want anyone else, never had, and possibly never would. The only man she would consider marrying was looking at her as he would to an enemy.
She stood up, intent on setting the record straight. They could not part on a misunderstanding. “Magnus?—”
Before she could say anything, he slammed the tankard on the table and stormed in the direction of the forge.
“Will you excuse me?” Agnes shouted to Ingrid, who was asking what could possibly require her attention when they were in the middle of a conversation. But she didn’t have time to answer the question.
She had a furious blacksmith to soothe.
CHAPTER NINE
The door of the forge opened without a sound. Only the burst of moonlight painting the room in bluish hues betrayed the fact that someone had slipped inside. Someone too small and dainty to make any noise on the packed earth floor. Someone who had not set foot in here for two days. In other words, an eternity.
Magnus didn’t move, and the door closed again, wrapping the room in shadows once more. To the left, the faint glow of the embers cut through the darkness, like the many eyes of a malevolent creature intent on witnessing the humiliation that was sure to come. What was Agnes doing here? Hadn’t she done enough?
After a moment, her voice reached him, oddly disembodied. “Magnus? I know you’re in here. Please, we need to talk. I owe you an explanation.”
An explanation! He was in no mood to hear why she thought Björn was better than him.
“You owe me nothing,” he growled.
Damnation, he had not meant to talk at all. Now not only Agnes would know for sure that he was here, but also where he was standing.
Having located him she started to walk up in his direction, stumbling a little. Her eyes would not have adjusted to the obscurity yet, unlike his. Magnus braced himself for the moment she would fall to her knees or flat on her face. Hadn’t she told him she was clumsy? Perhaps she’d been right to make the claim, because she appeared particularly unsteady. But she made it to him without any mishap, stopping close enough for him to see her eyes glitter like liquid gems.
“Please, you must?—”
