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It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but what had happened early this morning had to take precedence over the past. ‘Why are you telling me this now?’ she asked.
‘I want us to be honest with one another,’ he said simply. ‘About what happened and why.’
‘I don’t know why it happened.’ She paused. He had been open with her, so he deserved honesty in return. ‘Or maybe I do...’ Her face tightened. ‘I know it’s been twenty months since we—’
There was a small silence.
‘I thought you might have forgotten,’ he said quietly.
She wanted to laugh. Forget him? Forget that night? ‘No, I didn’t forget you, Ragnar. I can’t.’
‘You mean Sóley—?’
The sun was in her eyes, making his face unreadable. But she hadn’t been talking about her daughter, she thought with a mix of shame and panic. She had been talking about him, and about how he had made her feel, and the soft, urgency of his mouth, and her own quickening gasp as she arched against him.
‘There hasn’t been a day when I haven’t thought about you,’ he said.
Looking up at him, she let her gaze search his face and, seeing the heat in his eyes, she nodded, acknowledging the truth of his words and the fact that they were true for her too.
His hand came up and she breathed in sharply as his fingers traced the curve of her cheekbone. Without knowing it was what she wanted to do, or that she was going to do it, she rubbed her face against his hand.
‘I thought it would pass,’ he said simply.
She stared at him, hypnotised by the ache in his voice—an ache she shared. ‘Me too.’ With an effort she slid her head away from his hand. ‘And it will... But in the meantime I don’t think acting on it would be—’ She stopped.
‘A good idea?’ he finished for her.
‘It would be a very bad idea,’ she agreed.
She could hardly believe she was talking to him like this, but what were the alternatives? To pretend that it was a figment of their imaginations? To listen to their libidos?
Of course she could see the appeal of both—but, while she didn’t know the limits of the man standing beside her, she knew her own limits, and there was no way she could play happy families with Ragnar and have no-strings sex with him at the same time.
‘We’re here to be parents and I think we should concentrate on that,’ she said.
‘I’m glad we’re on the same page,’ he said quietly.
Her fingers tightened against the fence and she winced as something small and sharp dug into her skin. It was just a splinter, but it stung more than it should, and she welcomed the pain—for it gave her something to focus on other than the hollowed-out feeling in her stomach. But however much it hurt, she knew her regret at stopping things before they got started would be inconsequential compared to the fallout from a self-indulgent affair.
Straightening up, she met his gaze. ‘I think we should probably get some lunch.’
‘Then let’s go and see what Signy has cooked for us,’ he said slowly.
Lunch was a beautiful fish soup with fresh sourdough bread and the most delicious butter she had ever eaten.
After lunch, Sóley almost fell asleep in her highchair. Transferring her smoothly into his arms, Ragnar took her upstairs to bed.
Lottie watched him go. It was getting easier to let him be involved now, and it was also a relief to have a few minutes without her body being so intensely aware of exactly where he was in relation to her.
She glanced around the empty kitchen, and then wandered into the huge living space. It was a beautifully proportioned room, and the light was truly incredible. As it shifted in depth and colour it was like a kind of ever-changing art installation that perfectly complemented the striking mobile spinning and shifting in the invisible air currents.
Her pulse twitched. Mobiles were supposed to be calming, and yet she felt anything but calm.
Restlessly she moved around the room. Ragnar’s taste was minimalist. Everything was pared back to its essence, each piece selected on the basis that its beauty equalled its functionality.
Surprisingly, given its stark beauty, it was still a comfortable, welcoming space—perhaps because it so clearly embodied the personality of its owner. She glanced over to the amazing rotating suspended fireplace. The room certainly didn’t feel cold. She could feel the heat from the fire seeping into her blood.
Collapsing onto one of the huge leather sofas, she leaned back against the cushions and gazed upwards—straight into Ragnar’s blue eyes.
