Page 3 of Loving the Blacksmith
It was not the possession she feared, even if she’d heard the first time could hurt, it was the consequences. Humiliation if her lover abandoned her after having had what he’d wanted from her, marriage if he wanted more of her. In other words, a lifetime of misery, children.
Death.
Her parents’ marriage had not been a happy one and had made her dread the same fate. Her mother had found herself constantly with child, or nursing a babe. She had died at a relatively young age, exhausted by the strain put on her body. In her short life, she had borne ten children, three of which she’d had to bury within a week of their birth. Her husband, Orvyn, had never loved nor cared for her, he’d only seen women as bodies to rut on when the need took him. He had not stopped to wonder whether her mother wanted him in her bed mere days after giving birth, or worried about the consequences for herhealth if she got with child every year. It had been a miserable life, one Agnes had sworn she would not have.
But then she had been told that her father had found her a husband, an old man who only wanted her for the pleasure her young body would offer him in his late life. The thought was horrifying.
That was why when Björn, the Norseman who’d come to visit Brigit, had offered her the chance to leave the village and travel south with him, she’d agreed without hesitation. She did not regret having done so, even if she had left all she knew behind. Here, with no father to pressure her into anything, no old man lusting after her, she would be free to live the life she wanted. The only girl in the family, and the youngest of the surviving children, Agnes had heard all her life that women were only good for two things, slaking a man’s lust whenever he wanted relief and bearing the children that inevitably followed, and this without complaint.
Well, she had the audacity to think otherwise.
“Agnes? Are you here? I have a dress for you.”
Magnus’ voice broke through her grim musings, as welcome as a beam of sunlight in a dark tunnel.
“Yes. Come in.”
It was only when Magnus’ gaze fastened on her with the intent of a hawk’s that she realized she should have asked him to leave the dress in the other room for her to retrieve when she was alone. She also understood from the tightening in his jaw that the shirt, oversized as it was, did little to hide her neck and throat. The collar hung so low on her that it left part of her bosom exposed. The blue in Magnus’ eyes swirled and his body tensed, proving he was every inch the hot-blooded male he appeared to be.
And yet, to her surprise and relief, he made no move toward her. He didn’t even look his fill, like he had earlier, when he’dseen her naked. After the initial shock, he lowered his gaze to the floor, as if he felt at fault for staring at her. A most unexpected reaction in so virile a man, and endearing.
Her shoulders relaxed and she understood why she had felt at ease with him from the beginning. Here was a man who would not take advantage of her. He might desire her, think her beautiful even, but he would never overstep the mark. Whatever he took from her, she would give freely.
“Here you are. A dress and a shift that will fit you much better than my shirt.” Eyes still on the ground, he handed her a soft woolen dress and a plain, serviceable shift. “I asked Ingrid for some clothes. She’s the same build as you, I would say, so everything should fit you fine.”
Agnes felt herself flush at this reminder of why he could claim to know her size. Had he seen this Ingrid naked, too, she wondered, to be able to compare the two of them thus? Was she his sweetheart? Was that why he had gone to her to borrow the dress? Did he love her? And what difference did it made if he did?
The unwelcome questions assaulted her all at once but she could not ask any of them out loud.
“Ingrid?” was all she said. She had no idea who the woman was.
“She’s Björn’s sister,” Magnus explained rubbing the back of his neck. He knew that, apart from Dunne, Björn was the only person she knew from the village so it stood to reason he would use him to make her see who Ingrid was. But this answer did not satisfy her. What she really wanted to know was, what was Ingrid’s relationship to him.
“Thank you. I hope she didn’t mind.” Perhaps if she kept him talking about the woman, he would eventually say something to bring some light into the matter.
“Not at all. Don’t worry about it.”
Mm.It seemed she would have to ask a direct question if she wanted a better answer. But she could not work up the courage. After all, it was none of her concern who he and Ingrid were to one another. She should just stop worrying about it.
“I think I’ll get changed now.”
Though she had intended this as a dismissal, Magnus didn’t move. Did he mean to stay here while she removed the shirt and got dressed into the clothes he’d found for her? Agnes shuffled toward the window. Suddenly the sizeable forge seemed too small for two people. Had she been too hasty in thinking he posed no threat to her?
“Forgive me,” he said when he saw her retreat. “You have nothing to fear from me. I will go now.”
Her heartbeat calmed instantly. She hadnotbeen too hasty in trusting he would never be any danger to her. “I will be as quick as I can. I know you have to work. And I’m sorry about this morning.”
“Sorry?” He blinked.
“I always wake up before dawn, and I didn’t think anyone would be up at this hour. I didn’t mean to...”
Her voice trailed. She hadn’t meant to what? Startle him? But she hadn’t. She’d been the one almost jumping out of her skin when she’d seen him in the forge. Embarrass him? It could not be, when she had been the one naked. Scare him? No, he hadn’t looked in the least frightened when she’d walked into the room. Rather... transfixed.
“There’s no need to apologize. I will now know that you wake up as early as I do, and I will knock before entering the forge.”
“Yes. Thank you. Do you think we could we forget what happened?”
He stared at her a long moment. The look on his face seemed to say: “We can try. But I’m not sure we’ll succeed.”
