Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Dunne spent the next day trying to convince herself that she wasn't falling for Bj?rn—and failing.

She was plagued by unholy desires and shameful thoughts that made it impossible to focus on what Birgit said and caused her to behave like a ninny whenever he came anywhere near her. Every time her gaze landed on Bj?rn she melted. Every time he looked back at her she melted. Every time they touched she melted. It was driving her mad. Any more melting and there would be nothing left of her.

What could she do to put an end to the torture?

There was one obvious answer. She craved Bj?rn's touch? Then she should go to him and beg him to take her. She was melting for him? Then she should bed him and douse the burning in her body. Maybe then she would be able to think more clearly.

No, she could not be so weak, she could not go to him now. They had agreed to wait until they knew whether she was with child to decide anything. If they slept together now, it would only make that probability more certain and things would get even more complicated. Not only that, but she owed it to herself to not surrender to her urges.

She had decided she would place her freedom above all else. She could not go back on this decision after two days just because the man was infuriatingly handsome, could she? It mattered not how good he looked naked, or how much she wanted to?—

"How long are you going to fight this?"

Dunne let out a squeak when the deep voice jolted her out if her musings. "Bj?rn, heavens, you made me jump."

His smile was wry. "Yes, I seem to do that, don't I? And you still haven't answered my question. You seem to do that as well."

"I don't understand your question, that may be why," she replied tartly. "Fight what?"

He let out a small laugh, as if he knew she was being deliberately obtuse. Not that it was hard to guess. "Let me be clearer then. How long are you going to fight the desire you feel for me? How long are you going to pretend that there isn't something between us? How long are you going to lie to yourself and act as if you don't want me?"

She stayed silent. What could she tell him? That she had no idea how long she would be able to deny the truth? That she needed to fight the desire she felt, for fear it made her do something she regretted? That she could not base a decision that would affect the rest of her and Dawn's life on what her senses were urging her to do? She was attracted to him because she couldn't not be. He was too handsome for any woman to ignore; he had given her too much pleasure for her not to want a repeat of the performance. But she had to be sensible.

Because she knew that if she went to his bed a second time, he would marry her. There would be no more excuses, no more delaying. He would marry her to offer their child a home. And then in a few months' time, a few years if she were lucky, he would see what a monumental mistake their union had been. He would regret shackling himself to a woman past her best, just because she had borne him a child conceived in a mad fit of lust. She would rather deal with his absence than with his bitterness and resentment.

"I-I don't know."

Bj?rn placed himself in front of her, overwhelming her with his presence. "Just tell me this one thing then. Do you think of me when you touch yourself at night?"

The shocking question made her gasp because she didn't do that. Had never done it. Wasn't even quite sure what he meant. "I do not touch myself!" was all she could say.

As she might have expected, he was not so easily deterred. "Well, do you dream of me touching you then?"

This time she could only stare at him because she did. She had. Twice. Once before he'd left for Denmark, and once…Once only last night. She had relived their wild night together and woken up panting and sweaty next to an oblivious Birgit. She had been mortified, and wished she could vanish into the ground.

Bj?rn smiled wolfishly. Evidently he considered his question well and truly answered.

"Think of me tonight, Dunne, when you put your hands between your legs to try to alleviate the ache burning your body," he said, lowering his head to speak in her ear. "I will be thinking of you when I fist myself, just like I did that day by the river. I was ashamed of my desire then. I am not anymore. You are the only woman for me, always will be."

Dear Lord above.

Dunne let out a strangled cry that managed to convey her longing, her shock, and her despair all at once. As if satisfied with her reaction, Bj?rn smiled and walked away, his gait impossibly feline. Once he'd disappeared from view she sagged against the fence post, drained of all energy.

What could she do to get this man out of her head? At this rate she was going to go mad long before they returned to the Norsemen village. She needed something to distract her, anything.

As if in answer to her wishes, a man appeared in front of her, holding a jug and two cups.

"Hi, you're Birgit's sister, are you not?" When she nodded, he poured a cup of the liquid contained in the jug as if to offer her a drink. "I'm Orvyn, it's nice to finally meet you. I've seen you around the village but haven't had the opportunity to say hello properly."

She mumbled something unintelligible then cleared her throat and tried again. "Nice to meet you, too."

"I'm looking for someone to try my new batch of ale. I'm not very good at it, but I have no choice but to try my hand at it, you see, since I am recently widowed." She could tell this comment was meant to elicit her sympathy, but she could not bring herself to offer her condolences because then he added, "I hear you're a widow as well. Isn't it hard?"

No. Being a widow was anything but hard for her. In fact, it was making the decision to marry again that was hard, even if the man wanting to make her his wife made her blood sing in her veins and her heart flutter with hope.

"I'm fine on my own," she said cautiously.

As if knowing he would only antagonize her by insisting, Orvyn didn't respond. Instead he handed her the cup he'd poured. "Would you try this and tell me what you think? It might be a trifle too strong, but I think I'm getting there."

"Strong, did you say?"

Dunne stared into the amber liquid in the cup. In it, oblivion beckoned, and with it the assurance of forgetting about the Norseman who was crowding her thoughts by day and invading her dreams by night. She could not resist. It was either that or go to bed right now and touch herself while thinking of Bj?rn's hands roaming all over her body. Anything would be better than that.

She raised her cup and drank.

As he crossed the wooden bridge Bj?rn spotted a woman hurrying toward him. Birgit. She looked harassed, her attitude a far cry from her usual calm demeanor.

"What's wrong?" he asked, drawing closer to her. It seemed to take her a moment to recognize him, so lost in her thoughts was she.

"Edita is ill. She's delirious with fever."

His chest squeezed. He had taken to the little girl who reminded him of Bee. "I'm sorry, is there anything I can do?"

"No, thank you. I have everything I need, she is sleeping in my friend Ragild's hut. She's a healer and knows what to do. I just need to stay with her and pray for her recovery. Unfortunately, my daughter is used to these episodes. All I can do is hope she will get better, the way she usually does."

He nodded in sympathy. Watching over a sick child had to be the worst thing in the world. "Where's Dunne?" She would provide her sister with comfort better than he could. He felt woefully inadequate. But Birgit arched a brow in surprise.

"I-I don't know. In fact, I thought she was with you?"

His heartbeat instantly picked up in alarm. If Birgit thought they were together, that meant Dunne had not been seen in the hut all day. Where was she? Had he frightened her away with his bold talk that morning? How had he been so foolish as to order her to think of him while she touched herself? It was obvious he had shocked her, had gone too far.

He looked around in panic. Night was already falling. Now was not the time for a woman to be wandering around. So where was she? Had she fled? He would not put it past the infuriating woman. Had she decided to go back home on her own and avoid having to deal with him?

No, she would at least have said goodbye to her sister before leaving. Unless she didn't want him to set off after her and had asked Birgit to cover for her? No, the woman seemed too genuinely surprised by her sister's unexplained absence to be lying.

"Go to your daughter," he instructed Birgit. "I'll find her."

He set off at a run and almost collided with Adaline, who was coming round the village hall.

"Careful there!" the woman laughed as he steadied her. "You almost fell on top of me. Not that I would mind overmuch, you know…" She winked at him, but Bj?rn was not in the mood to jest or even less, flirt with her.

"Have you seen Dunne?" he asked instead.

She frowned. "The last I saw her, she was with Orvyn. It wasn't that long ago, actually. They were heading toward his hut, and they seemed rather cozy, if you know what I mean, arm in arm and giggling. Well, good for them, we all deserve a bit of joy in our lives."

Bj?rn almost retched at the thought of Dunne getting joy in Orvyn's bed. But Adaline was right on at least one thing. It was late, much too late for an innocent visit. If Dunne was in a man's hut at this time, there was only one reason for it.

Thanking the woman, he started running again.

As he came to a stop, a masculine groan, filled with lust, reached his ear, confirming his worst suspicion. Dunne had not merely come to get a taste of the widower's foul ale. Disillusion churned in his gut. Hand already at the door, Bj?rn hesitated. After all, who was he to interrupt the tryst? If Dunne had gone to the man of her own accord, and at the moment he had no reason to think she had not, she would not thank him for bursting in and interrupting them. Better to first make sure that his intervention would be welcome. He leaned in and pricked up his ears.

"Your skin is so soft." Orvyn's wheezy voice caused him to stiffen in anger.

"Is it?" Dunne. She sounded hesitant but he would have known her anywhere.

"Aye. Oh, I've missed this, you know. Being a widower makes it harder to indulge my senses whenever I want."

"Does it?" Now Dunne sounded tired, or bored, not the reaction of a woman filled with desire. Bj?rn had heard her voice when she was overcome with need. It did not sound like this at all. What was going on in there?

"Yes. Stop questioning me. Have another drink."

There was a silence. Bj?rn froze while everything clicked into place. Dunne wasn't tired, she was drunk. She'd been arm in arm with Orvyn when Adaline had seen them because she'd been unable to walk properly, and giggling because of the ale, not because she wanted a tryst. The blasted man was making her drink from his special strong brew, the one that "had its uses," namely making women unable to resist him. Literally.

"That's better. Now, let me see your titties. And then I'll show you my?—"

The door shattered into dozens of splinters when Bj?rn kicked it open. The sight that met his eye was even worse than the one he had feared. Dunne was lying on the floor, immobile, her eyes closed, her body limp. Bloody bleeding hell, the bastard hadn't even had the decency to take her to the pallet before pouncing on her! Her bodice was ripped open, exposing one perfect, rounded breast. And worst of all, Orvyn was bent over her, his mouth inches from her nipple.

Red mist descended. With a roar, Bj?rn launched himself onto the man. In the blink of an eye, he had him pinned against the wall, his neck imprisoned in his hands. The urge to squeeze and end his miserable life caused his arms to tremble.

"Stay away from her, you worthless piece of shit. She's mine, do you hear?" The words felt as if they had been wrenched from the deepest part of his body. But Dunne was his, whatever everyone else, including her, thought, and that was all there was to it.

"I-I had no idea. Of course, if I had known that, I wouldn't have…" The man could barely speak with his throat caught in a vice-like grip. It didn't matter. Bj?rn was not interested in his feeble protests anyway. Orvyn was only sorry because he'd been caught trying to steal another man's "property," not because he thought he'd done anything wrong by Dunne.

"Save your breath. And if I ever hear about you using your foul brew on unsuspecting women, I will drown you in it and laugh as you choke to death."

Leaving Orvyn to collapse to the floor, he bent down and gathered Dunne into his arms.

"Come," he whispered to her. "I'm taking you out of here."

There was no reaction. It was as if she had fallen asleep. As they exited the hut and chilly air wrapped around them, she started mumbling.

"I don't want to show you my ti?—"

"No. Don't worry about it, I won't make you do anything you don't want to do." Bj?rn growled. Bloody, bleeding hell. Orvyn had been let off too lightly. He would have to go back to him and give him what he deserved for preying on innocent women.

"Where is Bj?rn? I want to see him."

His heart almost stopped. In her distress, she was calling to him. "I'm here. I'm taking you to safety. Don't worry, it's all over, you won't have to see that bastard ever again."