Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Tell me straight." Orvyn winked. "What do you think of this brew?"

Bj?rn barely repressed a grimace. In truth, it was awful, but he wasn't sure he should be honest when the man seemed so proud of his creation. The day before he'd wanted to meet some of the villagers, but as luck would have it, the first man he'd encountered was one he would have avoided in other circumstances.

When he'd crossed paths with the pompous, self-satisfied widower, their conversation, short as it had been, had made him decide to avoid him in the future. But as Bj?rn had reached the wooden bridge leading to the second part of the village that morning, Orvyn had recognized him and invited him to have a drink. It had been impossible to refuse without offending him. Then, as if that was not bad enough, Bj?rn had made the mistake of telling him he brewed ale.

Delighted, the man had exclaimed, "I've been widowed for six months so I've had to take over the making of it out of necessity and it's not easy. But I'm getting there."

Next thing he knew, Bj?rn was handed a cloudy, unappealing beverage.

"So?" Orvyn was still waiting for a verdict on the ale.

"It's strong," Bj?rn said cautiously. This, at least, could not be in doubt.

"Precisely!" A slap on the shoulder rewarded the answer, as if Bj?rn had meant it as a compliment. He had not. "It's not for every day, I'll grant you that, but it has its uses. Do you know how I achieve such a result? I cram as much grain as I can in the vat and I?—"

Bj?rn raised a hand. He was not interested in trying to reproduce the foul mixture. "It's fine. I doubt I will want to make such a potent brew. The people in my village prefer a lighter drink."

"Yes. I bet they do. But you're a real man! You can take it."

The irony of finally being called a man for doing nothing more than pretending to like a strong brew twisted his guts. "Oh, I am a man, Don't I know it," he mumbled, staring into his cup.

Orvyn slapped him on the shoulder again, a habit that was quickly becoming tiresome. "I'll tell you what, Bj?rn, a sturdy lad like you, who knows what he's about in all manner of things, is exactly what I need as a son-in-law."

"A son-in-law?" Had he heard that right?

"I'm looking to get my daughter Agnes married. I was thinking of a match with the miller, but I might prefer someone younger, who could help me and take over some of the chores in the house."

Oh, so not only was the man marrying him off to his unsuspecting daughter, but he was also assuming Bj?rn would come live here in the village to look after him now that his wife was dead. Could any offer be less tempting?

"I thought the miller was married already?" he said instead of answering. He must have misheard the other day when Birgit had talked about the people living in the village because a married man could not take a wife.

"John is, aye. But his father is widowed like me, and I know he's looking to remarry. He's offered for my Agnes, as he feels he deserves a pretty wife in his bed after being married to plain old Jane for years. He's a friend, so I was considering agreeing to the match but now I'm thinking I might have found better. You're not a Saxon, of course, but you seem civilized enough, for a Norseman." Bj?rn didn't know what to say. As offers went, this one was as offensive as it was unappealing. Orvyn, however, was not deterred by his silence. "She is a couple of years younger than you, I would say, pretty, with all the curves a man wants." Another slap landed on his shoulder. He had to grit his teeth to stop himself from retaliating. "I wager you will enjoy pounding into her."

Bj?rn blinked. Had the man really said that about his own daughter? Was he really considering selling her off to an old lecher who'd made no secret of his vile intentions? The exasperation he'd been feeling instantly turned to disgust. But he was not here to create problems, least of all for Birgit, who would have to live in the man's proximity once he and Dunne had left, so he thought it more prudent not to say anything, for fear of betraying his feelings. Besides, the man didn't seem to require an answer. In his mind, the deal was already sealed.

Orvyn poured himself another drink and raised the cup high in the air.

"Come, let's drink to your health."

"Thank you, no. Birgit is waiting for me," he lied. He had to leave before he told the man where he could put his unsavory offer or slap him on the back. Hard. His fists were itching something fierce. "I promised I would build a new chicken coop for her."

"Mm. Birgit is a lovely woman. She deserved better than to be married to that Hereward, who is barely ever here to see to her needs." A wink. "Her sister is quite comely too, is she not? I wonder if she?—"

"Stop wondering," Bj?rn growled under this breath. Was the man determined to have a fist rammed down his throat? Apparently so.

"Oh." Orvyn nodded slowly. "You mean someone in your village has got his eye on her?"

"Yes." Someone definitely had. Him.

"Well, they're not here to see what she's up to, are they? Perhaps the widow would like to make the most of her time in?—"

"I don't think so." Not with a goat like you, anyway. "I have to go."

When Dunne came back from the river, clean and refreshed from her morning ablutions, she found Birgit in the company of three other women. They were making goat's cheese in a sunny spot right by the vegetable patch.

"Hi. I'm Agnes," a young girl said with a timid smile, as she settled herself at a milking stool.

"I'm Brona," her curly-haired friend piped, wiping her hands on her apron.

"And I'm Adaline." The third woman lifted a heavy-looking bucket as easily as Dunne would have lifted a loaf of bread. "Your help will be welcome. As you can see, the goats have been generous this day."

"So they have. Lovely to meet you all." She smiled. "Of course, I can help."

As they started working Birgit explained how Dunne had traveled with a convoy of merchants on their way to Lincoln fair and had done the last leg of the journey with one of their brother-in-law's friends. The women congratulated her on her bravery. Dunne said nothing. There had been no bravery involved after all, since Bj?rn had been with her all the way.

"How big do you want the cheeses to be?" she asked, as she started to mold one between two cupped hands. "I prefer them on the smaller side, that way they dry quicker."

There was no answer. She could tell the women were not paying attention to her. At least, Adaline and Brona weren't. Their gazes seemed focused on a point behind her. They exchanged a quick, knowing glance and smiled like two people sharing a secret. The girl blushed while the older woman wiggled a suggestive brow. What on earth was going on?

Abandoning her cheese, Dunne turned around in time to see Bj?rn come to a halt next to Birgit.

Her mouth fell open. No wonder the women had lost track of the conversation. He was…well…He was bare-chested again, and utterly mouthwatering. An axe was resting over his right shoulder and a thin sheen of sweat covered his chest, delineating each of the lean muscles and making his skin appear even more golden than usual. Her insides started to quiver. She had seen him bare-chested before, of course, but this was really taking it up another notch.

"Have you got time to come see what you think of the coop so far?" Bj?rn asked Birgit, oblivious to the way the women were ogling him.

By now Agnes had finished milking the last goat and was blinking in disbelief at the sight greeting her when she straightened back up. Birgit seemed to be the only one immune to the Norseman's appeal, for which Dunne was grateful. It was hard enough being jealous of other women and, after Toland admitting he was lusting after Frigyth, she didn't want to have to compete with yet another of her sisters for a man's attention. But it seemed Birgit hadn't lied when she had claimed not to be interested in men. If a half-naked Bj?rn could not provoke any reaction in her, then she was truly lost to the cause.

"Who the devil is that?" Adaline asked as the two of them started to walk toward the other side of the hut where the coop was. "He's not from around here, that's for sure. I would have remembered seeing him."

"It's Bj?rn. He's the one who accompanied me here."

There was a stunned pause as the three women stared at her.

"Are you jesting?" Adaline's eyes almost popped out of her head. "You mean you traveled alone for days on end with him?"

Though she could feel heat creep up her cheeks, Dunne pretended not to understand what the woman was getting at. "Well, as Birgit said, for the first three days we traveled with a group of merchants. Bj?rn lives in the village where my other sister settled with her husband, Sigurd. He's a Dane, like him. He has a sister, whom I taught to sew. Her name is Ingrid." She was blabbering on, but no one seemed to mind. Apparently, the more information they could get about the Norseman, the better.

"Does this Sigurd look like your…friend?"

No. There was no one like Bj?rn. The answer tore through Dunne's mind. Nevertheless, she nodded. Broadly speaking, he did. They were both tall, muscular, blond, with golden beards and braided hair.

"Pretty much."

"My. Your sister is a lucky woman. Are all the men so tall and arousing in that village of Norsemen?" Adaline was practically drooling.

"Erm…I don't know about that. Depends on your tastes, I suppose."

"No, in this case it doesn't. This man is positively mouthwatering and only a fool would disagree. You should try your luck with him, Brona."

Brona gave what sounded like a nervous laugh. "I have no chance against you. You seem to attract men like flowers attract butterflies."

Adaline sighed. "Not the young ones. Not anymore. Alas, those days are over."

"How old are you?" Dunne couldn't help but ask her. They seemed to be of an age. And yet the woman deemed herself too old to even think of dallying with Bj?rn. Her chest tightened. Say what he might, they weren't meant to be together, least of all as husband and wife.

"Thirty-one summers. Practically an old crone!"

Though this was said in jest, Dunne received the comment like a punch to the gut.

"I'm thirty," she mumbled, feeling more like a hundred. Practically an old crone indeed.

"Ah, well, you know what I mean then. Those were the days, hey?"

Dunne toyed with the idea of telling Adaline she might even now be carrying the proof that Bj?rn didn't think her past her best, of detailing all they had done in bed together.

She stayed silent. What purpose would it serve, save to appear as if she were boasting? She could not tell anyone what she and Bj?rn were to one another when she had not even told Birgit. Why had she kept the secret? Frigyth knew…

Yes, Dunne reminded herself sharply, her other sister knew because she had all but walked in on them locked in the most intimate embrace. Would she have told her otherwise? She wasn't sure. Why was she so ashamed of it? She wasn't sure either. But she couldn't help it, she was, if not exactly ashamed, at least uncomfortable. No matter what, she simply could not rid herself of the notion that it was ridiculous for them to be together.

And everyone save Bj?rn seemed to agree with her.

Without a word, she resumed the molding of the curds with renewed determination.

She was supposed to make cheese, not torture herself over a certain Norseman.

"Thank you, that's perfect. I've been telling Hereward we needed a bigger coop for weeks but I'm afraid he's been even busier than usual, what with his brother having broken his arm."

Bj?rn waved Birgit's thanks away. In truth, he was glad to have helped her. The woman was kind and had fed him for days without asking for anything in return. He wished he could do more for her.

"It's no issue. I'm glad to be able to repay your generosity in some small way." Was there more to it, he wondered when she appeared unconvinced. Was he trying to earn one sister's approval by helping the other? He refused to consider the possibility, but a niggling doubt persisted. Perhaps he was.

Well, what of it? Trying to woo a woman was hardly a dastardly enterprise.

"Feeding you is the least I can do when you were kind enough to ensure my sister's safety during her journey here." Birgit smiled. "How well do you know Dunne?"

He cleared his throat as the honest answer almost escaped his lips. I know her as intimately as a man can know a woman. I know how she feels under me, over me and around me. I know how she moans when pleasure overcomes her. I know I want to spend the rest of my life with her.

"Not very well, really. I happened to be going the same way as her so your sister's husband, Sigurd, asked me to make sure she reached you safely," he said gruffly.

"Mm. And yet somehow you seem to have forgotten all about your intention to go to the fair."

Damn it, of course, she would have picked on that fact.

Fortunately, he was prevented from answering by a loud voice coming from the other side of the hut.

"Agnes! There you are. Is your father home? I need a word with him. We have an important matter to discuss."

"Who's this talking?" he asked Birgit as his skin started to prickle. Agnes. One of the women making cheese with Dunne was apparently the brewer's daughter and the old man calling out to her the miller's father. The important matter he wanted to discuss with Orvyn had to be the possible union between them. A union she would be ignorant of, he suspected. After all, Orvyn had offered her to him even though they had never set eyes on one another.

"That's John's father, the miller," Birgit started to answer, as he stole a glimpse at a man with grizzled hair and a paunch. It was just as bad as he had feared. "He?—"

"Forgive me. I have to see Agnes."

"I see." Birgit gave him a warm smile. "Someone caught your interest."

Bj?rn wondered what the woman would say if he told her the truth. Yes. Someone has caught my interest. Your sister. She is the most wonderful woman I've ever met and she might even now be carrying my child. Would she be shocked? Happy for Dunne? Would she support him? Would she agree that he was too young for her? There was no knowing. But all this could wait. For now, he had to see Agnes. He had to warn her about her father's plans.

"Agnes?" he called out as he rounded the hut. Three women were staring at him as they would to a supernatural apparition. Which one was Orvyn's daughter?

"Yes?" The girl to the left lifted beautiful green eyes to him. Her father had not lied. She was pretty. But he felt no flutter of arousal when he looked at her because she was not the woman he wanted to marry.

"Can I have a word with you?"

Agnes seemed too awestruck to respond. One of her friends, a woman with a generous figure and a smiling disposition, nudged her forward. "Go, girl, it's not polite to make people wait."

The girl followed him to the hut, where they would have some privacy. He closed the door and turned to her.

"Forgive me, I will be blunt. You don't know me, but I spoke to your father the other day. Orvyn, is that right?" Agnes confirmed his suspicions with a nod. "I understand he has plans to marry you. To me. Has he said anything to you?"

It was clear from the way the girl blinked that he had not. "N-no. But…forgive me, but you're a stranger."

"Yes, I know. And, to be perfectly honest, I have no intention of accepting the offer."

Agnes bit her lip and allowed her gaze to wander up and down his chest. Damnation, perhaps he should have put his shirt back on before coming to speak to her. He knew his looks appealed to women, especially Saxons, who seemed to like tall, blond men. With his beard and his braids, he looked markedly different from the men they were used to.

"I suppose I should not be surprised," she said eventually. "You could probably find all the women you want. Why would you choose an ordinary girl like me?"

"This is not against you, you seem perfectly lovely, but I cannot get involved with anyone right now."

She nodded slowly. "I see. You have someone waiting for you back in your village."

"Mm. Something like that."

The woman in question was not in his village at the moment and he was not sure she was waiting for him, but Agnes didn't need to know the particulars of his relationship with Dunne. He could not reveal what they were to each other when she had not even told her own sister what had happened between them, introducing him as nothing more than a helpful villager.

He had not expected any different, in all honesty. But it still hurt to see that she was not comfortable with what happened, to the point that she was not only hiding it from her sister but was also refusing to accept what there could be between them. No one knew that they were intimately acquainted. Sigurd might suspect it, given the fact that he had insisted he accompanied her to visit Birgit, but he was certain Dunne had not told either of her sisters about what had happened between them.

Because she could not accept it, and might never do so.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Agnes asked, bringing him back to the discussion.

"I wanted to warn you about your father's intentions, and make you understand why I will refuse his offer. As I said, it has nothing to do with you. You are anything but ordinary. At any other time, I might have accepted and counted myself lucky." This cost him nothing and the girl seemed in dire need of reassurance.

"Thank you. Now, if I may, I will return to the goats?"

He hesitated. Should he not warn her also about what the miller's father intended? Was it his place? Probably not.

He nodded. "Yes. Thank you for having listened to me."