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She stopped, and he stopped too. Holding his breath, he watched her lean forward and lower the little girl onto the snow. Sóley was wearing an all-in-one snowsuit, and her bright golden curls were hidden beneath a tiny hat shaped like some kind of fruit. Holding both her mother’s hands, she teetered unsteadily on the spot, but even at this distance her excitement was tangible, and he felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth as she tugged one mittened hand free and crouched down to pat the snow.
It might be the first time she’d ever seen it, and he felt a buzz of elation at witnessing her delight.
He stared intently through the glass, enjoying this unexpected opportunity to observe mother and daughter together, all the more so because Lottie had no idea that she was being watched.
His mouth twisted.
That made it sound like he was spying on her—but was it really so bad to want this one small moment to himself? Obviously it wasn’t the first time he’d seen the two of them together, but he knew his presence set Lottie’s teeth on edge.
Although maybe that had changed now, he thought, remembering how she had opened up to him in the early hours of the morning.
When she’d first started talking about feeling tired he’d assumed she was referring to all the sleepless nights involved in having a small baby, but then she’d told him about her father’s rejection, and her feeling of being different from her mother and brother.
Her honesty had surprised and touched him—the more so because he still regretted the lies he’d told her that first night.
But it was not just her honesty that had got under his skin.
His sisters and brothers, even his parents, poured out their hearts to him on a regular basis, but always his first instinct was to blank out the emotional drama and concentrate solely on the facts. Only with Lottie there had been no drama. She hadn’t wept or raged, and yet he’d found it impossible to block out the quiet ache in her voice as she’d told him her story.
It was an unsettling discovery to meet someone who could slip beneath his defences, and for it to be Lottie was even more unnerving. Only wasn’t it completely understandable for him to feel that way? Logical, even?
Lottie was the mother of his daughter, so of course he cared. He hadn’t liked knowing that she was upset, or that in some clumsy way he had contributed to her distress. And it had been only natural for h
im to want to comfort her.
Glancing back down at the woman standing in the snow, he felt his body still, remembering the feverish kiss they’d shared. Truthfully, comforting her had been low, low down on his agenda when the blood had been pounding through his veins and he’d lowered his mouth to those sweet, soft lips.
He wanted her and she wanted him, and his heartbeat stumbled as the question came back to him—the one he’d turned away from earlier. But where would that wanting take them?
He wasn’t a fool, and he knew that giving in to this ache, this hunger, this pull between them, would end badly. How could it not? There was too much at stake—too much to lose or damage or both. Having sex with Lottie, no matter how badly he wanted it or she wanted it, would introduce too many random elements into their relationship, and he didn’t do random.
He felt his shoulders stiffen.
More to the point, he didn’t do relationships.
And here in his home, the home he was sharing with her and their daughter, sex was never going to feel like just some casual hook-up. There would be consequences—tempting to ignore now, in the face of the urgency and pull of their desire, but as he knew from personal experience of unpicking his family’s destructive, impulsive affairs, they were consequences that ultimately neither of them would be able to outrun.
Consequences he didn’t want to take on.
Not now, not ever.
* * *
Taking her eyes off her daughter for a moment, Lottie raised her face and gazed up at the sky. She had been hoping that it would have the same effect that it did in Suffolk, and that the feelings of inadequacy and mortification she’d been carrying on her shoulders since waking would magically melt away in the face of its vast indifference.
It might have worked if the sky had been the washed-out grey of yesterday. Unfortunately she was in Iceland, and today the sky was the same brilliant blue as Sóley’s eyes—Ragnar’s too.
Her heart gave a thump and she felt a thumbprint of heat on both cheeks as she thought back to what had happened and what might so easily have happened in the early hours of this morning.
She still couldn’t quite believe that she’d told Ragnar about her father, and about how she felt about Lucas and her mum. But that wasn’t even the worst part. As if blurting out all that wasn’t mortifying enough, she’d then completely lost her mind and kissed him.
Driven by the restless ache that had been turning her inside out, she hadn’t been able to hold back—and she hadn’t wanted him to hold back either.
She’d crossed the line. Not in the sense of winning a race, but by stepping into a no-man’s land where anything could and might happen.
It was just a kiss, she told herself firmly. And yet if the baby monitor hadn’t interrupted them, what then?
Short answer: nothing good.
