What had possessed him to volunteer for the task, Haakon asked himself as he retraced his steps back to Halfdan’s hut. He had the uneasy feeling that he had not really wanted to do Sven a favor but instead had wanted to secure a moment alone with Gytha. Why? Only more confusion awaited.
As if fate wanted to help him bring about his own doom, he found her alone outside. There would be no avoiding her now. She had already spotted him.
“Here, the necklace,” he told her, glad to have a reason to explain his presence here. Yes… Except that he had created that reason himself, just so that he could see her.
Really, what was he thinking, doing Sven’s job so that he could spend a moment with Gytha? Hadn’t he decided to have nothing to do with Saxon women? Yes. And yet here he was, provoking a meeting with one of the most unpredictable ones he had ever seen. Every time they met he was left wondering how she could affect him so. Her beauty was dangerous, as it made him feel desire for her, but it was all the rest that worried him. She asked uncomfortable, intrusive questions, she believed the worst of him, she made him kiss her and obsess about her.
In other words, she was trouble.
So why couldn’t he stay away?
“Sven forgot to give it earlier. It’s from Eahlswith, his wife. I think Eadhild is expecting it.”
“Yes, she did mention it. I’ll get it to her, thank you.”
Their fingers touched ever so slightly when she took the necklace from him. It was enough to send sparks shooting up his arm. The words were out of his mouth before he could think, a defensive move aimed at stopping him from making too much of the bewildering sensation.
“Have you heard anything about Osberga in the last few days?”
“No, nothing.” She shook her head. “The merchant was…er…questioned but it was obvious he really had no idea where Osberga could be. All he knows is that she vanished during the night three weeks ago.”
Questioned. Haakon could easily guess that her father’s men had done more than ask polite questions. If that were the case and the man still had not revealed anything, then it was likely he was telling the truth. He really didn’t know anything.
“You know, you never did tell me how you found out my name.”
There she was again, asking questions that put inappropriate ideas in his mind. He knew her name because Alberic had thought she was about to marry him. And the man didn’t doubt the lie because he had seen them share a kiss. And not just any kiss. A hot, decadent, scandalous kiss.
Damn. The memory of it made him stiffen. Made him want to do it again.
“Your father told me and Wolf that your neighbor, Alberic, had told him his daughter Gytha was set to marry one of his sons. It made no sense to us, until I realized that he must mean me.”
“Yes. I see.” She frowned. “But how could Alberic think I was engaged to one of Wolf’s sons? Eadhild said that I was betrothed to you. And he did see us kiss.”
Enough with that kiss! Was she trying to kill him? His groin stiffened further. Anymore and she would be able to see what was happening in his body.
“He will have assumed that since your father often has dealings with Wolf, I had to be one of his sons. I don’t know! The man is a fool, by all accounts,” he exploded, throwing his hands up into the air in exasperation. Could they not talk about something else than that kiss which had haunted his thoughts for far too long? “And we Norsemen all look the same, remember?”
“But you don’t.” Gytha’s frown deepened.
“No, I know we don’t, but to him?—”
“I mean, from what I saw earlier, Steinar and Sven do look remarkably alike, but then again, they are brothers, so their similarity is to be expected, I suppose… The third brother, Torsten, is very different though. I think everyone, even Alberic, would agree. He doesn’t even have blond hair or blue eyes. So much for all Norsemen being the same.”
Haakon stared at her. How did she know his friends’ names? And why did she have such decisive opinions about them? Something in his chest started to gnaw at him, a beast he had felt all too often.
Jealousy.
Before he could comment, Gytha carried on, looking as serious as if her life depended on her ability to give the most accurate description of the men.
“The blacksmith’s sons eyes are gray rather than blue, a most striking color, and Arne, though almost as tall as Eirik, is nowhere near as muscular. His beard is also the bushiest.”
Shewastrying to kill him, he decided. She had been observing the men closely, too closely, if she had seen deep into their “striking” eyes or guessed what was hiding under theirclothes. He clenched his jaw. She had described everyone but she had left one man out, the most important one, in his opinion.
“What about me?” Haakon asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He might not have striking gray eyes, but he was just as muscular as Eirik, damn it! Had she seen that? “Do I look like any of them?”
Gytha went such a red color that the beast in his chest roared in triumph. Perhaps he didn’t have to worry about how he compared to his friends.
“Of course, you don’t, she said curtly. “Didn’t I just say that I thought it ridiculous to think that all Norsemen looked the same? I’m not Alberic.”
