Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Arne slapped Bj?rn on the shoulder and grinned. "Look at you, you mighty Dane! Have you grown even taller since you left? I swear you have! You look just like your father with the beard and the braids, you know." His friend ran a hand over his own smooth jaw. "Perhaps I should grow one as well. The women seem to like it."

"They like it on sturdy lads with square jaws, my friend, not on everyone. On you, a beard would look like moss on a craggy rock," Magnar scoffed. "Not as appealing."

"Oh? And what do you know about what girls want? At least I can grow a beard!" Arne jeered. "All you can do is sprout a few strands on your chin. I wonder how many hairs you've managed to grow on your balls. It must be a sorry?—"

"You can stop wondering right now, or I will?—"

"Well, you arrived just in time to join us, Bj?rn," another of his friend added, cutting the pathetic argument short. "We'll drink to your return and then we'll celebrate. A group of us are going into town for a night of debauchery with willing women. Care to join us?"

Bj?rn smirked. "You mean you're going to paid women?"

"Same thing. They are willing enough once you place a coin in their hand. The others don't seem to want us, so what else are we supposed to do?"

"Go without?" he suggested.

The stare the three lads threw him might have made him laugh if he had been in the mood to laugh. But he was not. Seeing Dunne earlier, realizing that the appeal she exerted over him had not diminished had been a blow. Had he sailed halfway across the world and risked being shipwrecked for nothing? It appeared so. He had hoped she would have found herself a new home by now. It was not an unreasonable assumption to make. Why would a lonely Saxon stay in a village of Norsemen? But she had not left, she had only grown more lovely.

"So what say you?" Arne asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I say no."

"Ah…" His friend smiled. "Found yourself a sweetheart, did you, while you were away, and do not wish to betray her? No wonder you're talking of going without! With your girl all the way back in Denmark, you'll have to see to your needs yourself."

"Don't I know it," he grumbled. That fool Arne had to rub it in, didn't he? Bj?rn knew he would have to get relief by his own hand because the only woman he wanted in his bed was Dunne. No one else would do.

Why was he still so fixated on her?

He'd hoped to find someone in Denmark who would help him get over his obsession with Dunne, someone he might take back home with him to start anew. In truth there had been a number of women in the Danish villages he'd visited who would have happily let him tumble them into bed but that was not what he wanted. He wanted more, something long-term. He wanted her. Why she was the only one who stirred his interest, he wasn't sure. But in the same way he did not wonder why he liked autumn better than summer, he did not question his craving for her. It was part of him, had been since he'd been old enough to look at women. There simply was no one else like her.

And so, he had come back just as obsessed with the golden-eyed Saxon as when he had left.

On the boat he had concluded that his only hope lay with her. If she was nowhere to be seen when he entered the village, then he would have no choice but to forget her and try to find someone who could replace her if not in his heart, at least in his bed. But Dunne hadn't left. Not only that, but she'd been the first person he had seen, after her daughter Bee. The message was clear. There would be no escaping her. She was still here, still as beautiful as ever.

And his desire for her came back with a vengeance.

He gave a curse and stormed back to the hut. After his long absence, Ingrid would be waiting for him.

Dunne knew as soon as she woke up that she would have to address what had happened with Bj?rn that day by the river. She could not spend her days fearing it would resurface at the worst moment or risk a repeat of it when he walked in on her bathing again. The thought of exposing her body to him, this time without the protection of her shift, had her shiver with something akin to excitation. Even if she knew his reaction had been nothing more than a young man's normal response to an arousing situation, she could not help the satisfaction it had brought her.

He had seen her and he had felt desire. It was flattering, undeniably, to be proven she could be desirable, at least to some men.

She decided to go see him without further ado. If they were to cross paths every day, they could not have such a thing hanging over their heads. One of them had to clear the air and, as the one who'd been most embarrassed by the incident, Bj?rn was unlikely to want to bring the subject up himself. It was up to her, whose masculine pride had not been hurt, to take the first step.

She found him outside the hayloft, almost in the place where they had first met, cutting wood. Dunne allowed herself a moment to observe him unnoticed while he swung his axe with enviable—and, damn it—arousing ease. Yes, something had changed within him while he'd been away, making him a veritable danger to her senses.

Now, no one in their right mind would call him a boy.

She moved forward before she could lose herself in the contemplation. Ogling him was not why she had come.

He looked over his shoulder when he heard her approach. "Dunne. Good morning."

"Good morning."

"What can I do for you? Let me guess. Sigurd is after a cask of ale. I wondered how long it would take." With a laugh, he split the log he'd just placed in front of him clean in half. It was all she could do not to gawp at the demonstration of strength. It would have taken her five or six blows to overcome such a monster. Bj?rn made it look easy. She had been right the day before, something had changed within him. It was not just the physique, his whole demeanor was different. There was a new assurance about him, and she felt at a disadvantage, as if she were the young, untried one, not him.

"He has mentioned it, yes," she started.

"Well, he's going to have to wait. I made a batch yesterday but it's not going to be ready for another?—"

"Forgive me," she cut in before she could lose her nerve, "but that's not why I'm here."

"Oh?" He placed another log into position and waited for her answer before swinging his axe.

She lowered her gaze to the ground. As much as she wanted to help them get past any embarrassment, this was still awkward. What if she was wrong and he had actually forgotten all about the incident? Then she would only be stirring up trouble for nothing. Was she not overestimating the place she took in his mind? Perhaps. After all, he did not seem half as ill-at-ease as she was. Well, it was a risk she would just have to take.

Taking a deep breath, she went for it.

"I came to see if you think we could forget what happened that day by the river when you w-walked in on m-me," she stammered. "You were embarrassed by the way you reacted but I understand. You were shocked to see a woman naked and?—"

"I was not shocked!" he cut in, sticking his axe into the log before rounding up on her. "I was nineteen, I had seen naked women before. Just…Not you."

Unsure quite what he meant by that, Dunne carried on. This was not going the way she had anticipated. She had thought Bj?rn would agree with her and brush the matter aside as quickly as possible. He did neither.

"What I'm trying to say is that there is no need for any awkwardness between us. I realize none of what happened was about me, merely an unfortunate coincidence. The day before on the horse you?—"

"What do you know about what I did that day?" This time he did seem somewhat flustered. Still, she wasn't sure it was due to shame, rather than... She shook her head, preferring not to dwell on the reason. Whatever it was, the color in his cheeks had heightened.

She blushed in turn. "I think you went to the bushes to…see to your masculine needs. It's all right, I know you were thinking about Gertrud and it heated your blood."

"Who?"

Bj?rn stared at Dunne in disbelief. What—and who—was she talking about?

"Gertrud. The girl every man seemed to, er, lust after. I'm sorry to say she married a man from town a few months after you left."

This time he blinked, because he knew who she meant. Ingrid had given him a thorough summary of the changes in the village since he'd left and Magnar's sister had indeed moved to marry a cobbler from town.

But Dunne was wrong to think he'd been sad to see the girl go. Unlike Arne and the others, he'd never lusted after her, and was not disappointed to hear she had married another man. He couldn't care less about the mean-spirited chit. She had been comely enough, but not so comely he'd forgotten—or forgiven—the way she'd teased Ingrid for years for being "scrawny and shy," in her own scathing words.

It was time to set things right and put an end to this whole farce.

He planted himself in front of Dunne.

"Seeing as you don't seem to want to understand, let me be clear. That day I didn't go behind a bush to stroke myself because I was thinking about a girl I have never been interested in, I fled in shame because I'd actually come in my braies." The confession passed his lips easily. What had been the biggest humiliation of his life now seemed insignificant compared to his need to make her understand the reality of what he felt for her. "And I came because of you. You were the woman I was thinking about. I came because I was holding you in my arms, because I could smell your hair and feel your body against mine, because you were rubbing your sweet ass all over my cock and I could not stop myself."

He could tell Dunne was stunned by his crude admission, and little wonder. He should not have been so honest or so blunt, perhaps he should not even have rectified her wrong assumption, and just let her think he had been imagining another woman. But he could not. He could not bear for her to ignore what he felt any longer, even if what he felt was shameful and crude. He had tried to run, gone all the way to Denmark, only to find himself right back where he had started. He had tried to hide his feelings, only to have her mistake his actions for something else and believe him in love, or rather in lust, with another.

Well, there would be no more running, no more hiding. He was not ashamed anymore. At least one good thing had come from the interlude abroad. Away from people who still saw him as a child, and Rorik's son, he had finally become someone in his own right, as he'd wanted. It was a complete transformation, one long overdue. He looked different, he felt different, like a man. And men told their women when they wanted them.

"I saw you that day by the river, naked and beautiful like a goddess and I wanted you so damn badly I thought I might explode. I had to go and put an end to the torture for fear of doing something I had no right to do."

By now Dunne was trembling. "Like what?" The two words were but a whisper.

"Don't ask me that," he groaned, "the answer will frighten you, make you think differently of me." He'd wanted to tumble her onto the ground and sheath himself so deep inside her she would never forget the feel of his body filling hers.

She stared back at him, cheeks reddening. "I'm not frightened of you, Bj?rn."

"Good. I never want to see fear in your eyes when you look at me. I couldn't bear it."

"You won't."

At that moment Bj?rn understood two things. One, it wasn't fear that made Dunne's face flush such a becoming color. It was desire. She wanted him, as much as he wanted her. Two, as a consequence, he could actually make his dream come true and take her, right here, right now. Couldn't he?

The hayloft was beckoning, offering them a fragrant nest in which to burrow together.

"Bj?rn?" She took a tentative step toward him. "I?—"

He turned on his heel before she could finish the sentence.