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She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. It wasn’t any of her concern. Her sole responsibility was pleasing Brand in bed and she hadn’t been given a chance to do that. The thought made the whole morning seem gloomy. She kicked a pebble and sent it skittering across the yard.
A slight movement by the stable alerted her to the fact that she wasn’t alone and this was no longer strictly her home. Her body tensed. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Brand had said specifically that she should wait for him in his bedchamber.
Quickly she thought of her excuse if it happened to be one of the warriors, something that tripped easily off her tongue rather than the real reason. Silently she prayed that she wouldn’t have to use it.
She watched as the figure grew bigger. Brand. His hair gleamed as if he had been swimming. His shirt clung to his chest, revealing the hard planes and muscles. He might be large, but there was not an ounce of fat on him.
Her heart beat faster. What gave him the right to look so good in the early morning? She knew she must look a fright, but she also knew that she didn’t have time to withdraw into the shelter of shadows. She brushed her skirt, trying to remove some of the wisps of hay which clung to her gown.
He stopped. His gaze slowly travelled down her form. Edith forced her shoulders back and silently wished she’d taken the time to put on her headdress. Rather than being the perfection of beauty that Hilda had declared her to be last night, she suspected she looked like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards.
‘You’re awake and dressed, Lady Edith,’ Brand called out. ‘Ready for another busy day? Or did you have another purpose?’
‘I had trouble sleeping.’ Edith pressed her hands together so that she would not be tempted to pick any more hay from her gown. Why did he make it sound like she was up to no good? ‘I did obey your orders. I did go to the lord’s bedchamber.’
He lifted his eyebrow. ‘You can obey orders. Good. I wondered if you could only give them.’
Edith clenched her fists. He hadn’t even bothered to check if she had! He’d simply assumed. Next time, she’d not make the same mistake. From now on, he came to her room, rather than her spending time staring up at the blackened beams in his. ‘Is there some reason you failed to join me?’
Instantly she wished that she could unsay the words.
He tilted his head to one side. ‘You looked like a scared rabbit in the hall. I like women willing and eager when I indulge in bed sport. There is no pleasure in intimidating the woman. Both should derive pleasure. Some in the felag do not understand, so I wanted to make sure my stamp was on you.’
Edith ducked her head. The low purr of his voice rolled over her. She had done it wrong again. Her fear of intimacy had shone too much.
She swallowed hard. The old Edith would have apologised but he didn’t deserve one. The old Edith was the one who’d allowed Egbert to make fun of her. The knowledge of his deception helped calm her nerves. No man was going to do that to her again. ‘And I prefer a different sort of wooing, but we can’t always have what we want.’
He came over to her and put his finger under her chin, raised her face so she had to look him in the eyes. They were deep pools of blue. A woman could drown in those eyes.
‘There was no need to hurry. I’m interested in more than just bedding my women.’
Edith put her hand on her stomach and tried to quell the sudden butterflies. What sort of wooing did this mountain of a man have in mind? ‘What sort of wooing do Norsemen do?’
‘I like to know a woman’s mind before I know her body. Long gone are the days when I needed the comfort of a warm body in the night.’
Edith crossed her arms as swift anger went through her. She’d spent a sleepless night and he had never had any intention of bedding her! It had been a cynical ploy to teach her some lesson.
‘What was last night about? Why put me through the torment? What precisely did you hope to achieve?’
He cupped her cheek with his hand. The simple touch sent a warm pulse radiating out through her. She kept her body rigid, but an insidious warmth filled her, winding its way around her belly. She wanted to lean into his touch.
‘Miss me that much?’ he whispered and his breath caressed her ear. ‘Is that what you are cross about? I will have to remember for the next time—you dislike being kept waiting. Tonight we will unlock the passion.’
She bid the weakness in her limbs to be gone. He was attempting to unsettle her again, like he had last night. Or worse, he expected her to fall into his arms like a ripe plum. It was all a mind game with him, an intellectual exercise much like playing tafl. He thought she was starving for affection.
