Page 4 of Loving the Blacksmith
Which was her opinion also. But it was worth a try. At long last, he answered.
“Of course. It’s already forgotten.”
With those words, he nodded, and left.
CHAPTER TWO
Nails.
That was what he would make this morning. Nothing too technical, nothing too complex, nothing that would be ruined by his lack of concentration. Magnus stoked up the fire with renewed intent. Today he was only fit to do something he could have done in his sleep, and anyway, people always needed nails, didn’t they? It would not be a lost endeavor.
As he worked, he tried his best not to think of Agnes’ delightful body, or imagine her washing her clothes. What would have happened if Wolf had asked for the hammer last night instead of this morning? He would have walked in on her naked, bent over the bucket, the most arousing scene he could imagine. His shaft went as hard as the poker in his hand at the thought. He’d seen how perfect her rounded ass was this morning when she’d fled to her room. Such a sight was enough to make a man want to?—
A vicious curse escaped Magnus’ lips when a hot piece of metal singed his skin, calling him back to the reality of what he was doing. Nails. He’d purposefully chosen to make nails because he’d thought he could do them with his eyes closed.
Apparently, he’d been mistaken.
Staring at the long welt on his arm, he muttered under his breath. How long had it been since he’d injured himself while working? Years. He was usually able to focus and not allow his mind to wander over delectable women or anything else when he handled white-hot metal. He cursed again, louder, and threw the tongs to the floor in an angry gesture. A moment later, the door of the forge opened.
“Is everything all right?” Agnes walked in gingerly, as if unsure of the reception she would get. “I was outside, milking the goat, and I heard?—”
“Yes,” he cut in. “Everything’s fine.”
That was a lie.
Everything was most decidedlynotall right. But he couldn’t tell her the truth, couldn’t say he’d been obsessing about her naked body, imagining every inch of delicate spine, from her slender neck to her perfect buttocks, as she bent over the bucket of water. It was already a miracle she wasn’t afraid of him after what had happened this morning. It wasn’t difficult to guess he’d looked like a predator in front of his prey when he’d seen her in her glorious nudity. And then later, when he’d brought her Ingrid’s clothes, he had been unable to stop himself from staring at her lovely form. Seeing her clad only in his shirt had been both intimate and arousing, the perfect combination to make him lose his mind.
“It’s nothing,” he said gruffly. “I burned my arm, that’s all.”
He was a smithy. He worked with fire. There was nothing more normal than for a man like him getting burned, so he hoped the explanation would not raise any further comment.
But, to his surprise, Agnes looked horrified, as if he had just admitted to having been bitten by a rabid dog. “We need to bathe the wound!” she exclaimed, dragging him by the arm. “Without delay. It’s the only way to prevent the burn from spreading. Come, before it’s too late.”
He had no choice but to follow her. For such a slight woman she was impossible to stop. As he didn’t want to risk hurting her, he did not dare restrain her in any way, so he let her lead him outside and plunge his hand into a bucket of water she had placed by the fence.
“It’s lucky that I’ve just been to the well to draw some fresh water,” she explained, keeping his arm submerged in the cool liquid. “The cold will help with pain as well. Then if you have some honey, we will apply some on the burn once the skin has dried. Where do you find your honey? In the forest yonder, I imagine. Do you know, it’s one of my favorite things to eat in the morning.”
The sentences ran into each other without pause. It seemed to Magnus that she was trying to prevent an awkward silence from settling between them, which made sense. They were within kissing distance of each other, and their hands were touching under water, a somewhat disturbing sensation. The situation was admittedly more intimate than their short acquaintance warranted.
“I will show you the hive tomorrow, if you want,” he rasped, looking at her straight in the eye. “You’ll be able to have all the honey you want while you stay with me, not only in the mornings.”
The promise sounded more solemn than he’d intended, almost like a pledge.
After a while, the burning sensation eased. He sighed in relief but Agnes made a sound he interpreted as disapproval when she turned his arm over so she could look at the inside of his wrist.
“I’m afraid it will leave a mark.”
Yes. He already knew it would. This. Their meeting. The pressure of her fingers on his skin, the way she was taking care of him. No one took care of him, ever, or worried about the injurieshe might incur, or the scars it would leave, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.
Magnus tensed. It was subtle, but unmistakable. His hand, so pliable only a moment ago, was now heavy and cumbersome. Agnes gulped, suddenly very aware of their proximity, and of his strength. With that hand he could have choked the life out of her. With that arm, as thick and hard as a piece of wood, he could have sent her sprawling to the floor with one swipe.
“I’ve never met anyone as wild as you are,” she whispered, disentangling her fingers from his. What was she doing, touching a stranger so intimately, bringing her face so close to his?
“Wild?” He sounded affronted by her choice of words. “Like a beast, you mean? Is that what you think of me?”
“No!” She was horrified to have offended him because she had actually meant the word as a compliment. He was wild like a proud wolf roaming the land where he belonged, not bothering to try and join the pack of domesticated dogs. He was wild in the sense that he was not playing any game or pretending to be anything else than what he was at heart. He was strong and free. “The men in my village were all the same, tame and boring and predictable. You, on the other hand, seem...”
She floundered when she realized that, once again, the word that came to her mind was “wild,” in the best possible way. But he had not seemed to like it, so she had better not risk repeating it.
