“Where are you going to sleep?” Gytha asked, rolling the oldest die between her thumb and forefinger. She had been pondering that question all evening.
I’m going to sleep in your bed with you tight against me.
The answer flashed through Haakon’s skull. But of course he could not say that. He could not do that, lie down with Gytha tucked tight against him. Because then he would make love to her and tonight was not the night to do that.
Or any other night.
He leaned back on his chair, took in a deep breath and answered as calmly as he could. “Probably in the corridor in front of your door.”
Gytha looked at him with the same expression as if he’d said he would go roll in the mud with the pigs. “But you can’t do that!”
“I can and I will. I need to be as close to you as possible, in case I have to intervene. That is why I’m here tonight,” he reminded her—and himself. He was here to ensure her safety,notto seduce her.
“I think you and my father are being over cautious. I mean, Oswald has been sent away, I doubt he will want to?—”
“I care not,” Haakon cut in with a gesture of the hand. “Your father entrusted you to me and I will not let anything else happen to you.”
With those words, he leaned forward again, reaching across the table to cup her bruised cheek in his palm. It felt as soft as silk and fragile as a bird, and yet she had not complained about the pain once. How could anyone be so strong and so delicate at the same time? It was a mystery.
“If you’re sure,” she breathed, placing her hand on top of his.
“I’m sure. If you can spare a fur for me?”
He could see she wanted to say something, and that it would not be an answer to his question. Was she about to offer that he should sleep with her? Mad as it was, he had the impression that was what she wanted him to do. He knew she was not the shy kind. So, would she be brave enough to speak out? His groin twitched at the thought of lying next to her and his nostrils flared. A groan escaped his lips.
Gytha’s eyes widened and she took her hand from his.
Damnation, he had frightened her with the proof of his rampant lust. Even supposing she had been really tempted to ask him to sleep in her bed, she would not now. He had ruined everything, by being his usual boorish self. His reaction would have reminded her of Oswald, who had wanted to take her regardless of her wishes.
Haakon forced himself to let go of her cheek and sit back. At least, once again, she had not fled the room in panic.
“I think I can even spare a blanket for you,” she whispered.
“Thank you.”
It would have to do. And a cold, hard floor was nothing less than he deserved for making her fear he would pounce on her.
She walked out the door and a moment later reappeared in the hall with one piece of fur and one sizeable blanket under her arm. “Here you are.”
Instead of taking what she was holding, he asked, “Are you sure you have enough left for yourself?” He would not have her shivering all night.
“Yes. Worry not.”
So it was done. Gytha shut herself in her room while he lay on the fur on the floor, and settled himself against her door. No one would be getting in without waking him up first. Not that he felt about to fall to sleep any time soon.
Knowing she was just over the other side of the door, lying down in bed wearing nothing more than a thin shift was unsettling. Or perhaps she slept naked, at least in the warm months, as he did at home? That thought did little to help him relax and he doubted Gytha was finding it any easier. After having slept away most of the day, she would not be tired. Was she even now tossing and turning in bed, thinking of him? Was she reconsidering asking him to join her in the warm bed? Would he accept if she did?
A snort. As if that was even a question.
If she did offer, he would be up on his feet before she had time to finish the sentence. And then there would be no stopping him.
Haakon sighed and gritted his teeth. Despite having had barely any sleep the night before, it took him a long time to fall asleep.
11
Adoor slammed in the distance, shattering the silence of the night.
Gytha sat up bolt upright in bed, her heart beating hard, her mind too fuzzy with sleep to leave room for anything but terror. Oswald. The mysterious intruder had to be him. Who else would come at this hour? Her father, even if he sometimes came back home in the middle of the night, never behaved so inconsiderately so as to wake everyone up when he entered the house. Panicked, she shot out of bed, ran for the door—and slammed straight into a hard, male body.
