Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

" I think I'll have a wash before I go."

After his long trip from London, Caedmon wanted to feel clean when he saw his grandmother for the first time in ten years. Not that she would care, she would be too busy showering him with questions. A thought suddenly tore through his mind. Was the old woman still alive? She could have died years ago and he would have been none the wiser. He shook his head and decided it was not worth worrying until he knew for certain.

"Can I borrow a piece of linen?" he asked, gesturing at the pile in the corner.

Ingrid nodded absent-mindedly. He frowned. Though she had assembled a veritable feast for him on the table, she had barely touched a thing. She was sitting opposite him, staring at the loaf of bread as if she had no idea what it was. The contrast between this subdued, pale woman and the brazen minx who had teased him about sharing a bed last night was striking. Caedmon felt a pang of guilt. Had he scared her by not immediately telling her he would never take advantage of her? Was she tired because she'd spent the night worrying he would break his word and pounce on her?

No. She didn't look scared, or tired, rather…He wasn't sure how to name it. What was certain was that he hoped to see some color in her cheeks when he came back from his dip in the river. He hated to see her like this.

"I won't be long."

There was no answer.

The river was just beyond the trees, he remembered from his earlier visits to the village. Setting off a run, he reached it in no time.

As he started to take his clothes off, Caedmon did his best to recapture the excitement he had felt at the prospect of coming back home. Was it the right choice? Going north had been the obvious option when he'd decided to leave London, but now he was not so sure. He'd been away for so long, and so much had happened since then, that he might feel like a stranger in town. Would he find peace in the place where he had spent his childhood? It was far from certain. His memories of the place were not exactly happy. Not only that, but Frigyth and her sisters were now gone, and apart from his grandmother, they were the only people he wanted to see.

Yes. Perhaps returning to his past was not the wisest decision he'd ever made.

Oh, well, it wouldn't be the first time he'd made a mistake, would it?

He dove into the cold water headfirst.

When he entered the hut later on, his hair still wet from his bath, he found Ingrid leaning against the table. Her face was chalky white and she was grimacing. He'd hoped to find her better, but she seemed much worse.

He rushed over to her and stopped before he could sweep her into his arms. For a moment he'd forgotten they didn't really know each other and he had no right to touch her so intimately. She must have seen the concern in his eyes because she tried to smile.

"Forgive me. I…I don't feel too well."

No. That much he had surmised. Not well at all, by all accounts. Had she eaten something that didn't agree with her? No. She had barely touched the bread this morning so that couldn't be it. Was that the problem then? That she was actually hungry? She had not eaten anything last night, either. Whatever it was, she looked about to faint.

"Come. You need to sit down."

He made to guide her to the only chair in the hut, but she shook her head. "I need to lie down."

She sounded dejected more than worried, as if she had experienced this discomfort before and was resigned to it. He looked at her more closely.

"Do you know what ails you?"

"Yes," she sighed, massaging her temple. A headache amongst other things, Caedmon concluded.

"Can I help?"

"No. It will pass. I just need to sleep. Would you please cover the window with the wooden panel before you go? The dark will help."

Go? He bristled at the mere suggestion. She could not think he was just going to go and leave her while she was half delirious with pain? But now was not the time for a confrontation. Without a word, he did as she'd asked and watched her burrow under the covers in search of oblivion. She looked so small, so fragile, in that moment that his protective instincts took over.

She had helped him yesterday. He would take care of her today.

Ingrid blinked. Outside it was dark, which meant she had slept all day. There was nothing odd in that, it was what always happened on the first day of her womanly flux. Still, it felt as if something was not normal. She searched her foggy brain, trying to understand what was bothering her.

Finally, she did.

There was a faint glow of light behind her that shouldn't be here. Her heartbeat instantly picked up. Someone had come into the hut while she slept and lit up a tallow candle. Who? Why? Slowly, so as not to betray the fact that she had woken up, she turned around. There was a man sitting on one of the stools, as she'd suspected, but instead of causing her to panic, the sight reassured her. Though his back was to her, there was no mistaking who he was. No one else in the village had hair that color.

"Caedmon?" He turned around at the mention of his name. "You're still here?" It was nighttime. He should be in town by now. Wasn't he supposed to have left this morning?

Before answering, he came to kneel next to the pallet. Even though his body was blocking almost all the light, she saw that his face was creased with concern. "Of course, I'm still here. I could not in all conscience leave while you were feeling so poorly. I had to see that you were all right, make sure you weren't on your own in case you needed help."

"I always knew it would pass," she whispered. Yes, she had, unfortunately, but, of course, he hadn't known that. If he'd thought her at death's door, he would have wanted to stay. She was touched by his thoughtfulness. "There's nothing to worry about."

He seemed to hesitate before answering. "Yes. I know that now. Frigyth told me what was happening to you."

"She—What?"

She bolted upright, shocked, mortified and angry all at once. He knew ?

"It's all right. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. 'Tis only natural. But…I had no idea it could be that bad for some women. Is it always the same for you?"

He sounded so concerned, so matter-of-fact that her anger and embarrassment vanished. It was hard to get mad at someone who was so worried about her. "Yes. Every month. This one was particularly bad, though. How long have I been asleep? It looks like it is the middle of the night."

"It is, near enough. When you fell asleep, not knowing what to do, I went to see Frigyth to tell her you weren't well and ask her advice. Dunne was there with her and they told me you are plagued thus when your woman time comes. You don't remember they came to see you this afternoon?" he asked, sitting back on his haunches.

Yes, of course, she did remember the two women helping her putting the padding in place between her legs. She'd been grateful for the help but she'd not suspected they would have discussed such a personal topic with a man, and a stranger at that. What had they been thinking? But perhaps, having grown with him, the two women were used to discussing everything in his presence. He was no stranger to them.

Heat gushed between her legs when she moved, reminding her it was time to change the padding.

"Forgive me, I need to..."

Would there be no end to her humiliation? She felt herself flushing but Caedmon only nodded. "The women gave me what you needed. You'll find everything on the table. I brought in a pot of fresh water as well. Once you're comfortable you should eat something. I caught a rabbit earlier and Frigyth gave me some bread and honey."

"I..." She didn't know what to say. He'd seen to everything while she slept, oblivious to it all.

"I'll be outside. Just call me when you're ready."

He left before she could even thank him.

Dumbfounded, Ingrid went about washing herself and replaced the soiled padding with mechanical gestures. Then she took a deep swig of ale, wondering what to think of the Saxon who had taken care of her so well. It could be argued that it was his way of thanking her for what she had done the day before, but she had the impression that he would have done the same regardless, for anyone.

Eventually, she built up the courage to call him back inside.

He walked in, looking perfectly at ease, which helped her pretend nothing was amiss. Which, strictly speaking, was true, of course. As he'd said, there was nothing more natural than a woman having her monthly courses. It was just…well, she hadn't expected a man to be so comfortable with it. But, of course, if Ivar and his friends had not skewed her opinion of men so much, she might have been less surprised. She didn't imagine her brother shunned his wife during her flux for example. He probably attended to her as helpfully was Caedmon had done. As to Sigurd or Wolf, they always put their wives' pleasure and comfort before their own so they would not even blink at the notion of nature running its course.

Perhaps she should give men she didn't know the benefit of the doubt. After all, it would never have occurred to her to assume they were all selfish and crude before her parents' death and Ivar's betrayal.

She sat down opposite Caedmon. Not having eaten for a whole day, Ingrid was ravenous. She bit into the rabbit flesh and almost swooned. It was tender, roasted to perfection. The Saxon could certainly cook.

"Thank you, this is wonderful."

He nodded and gave a wistful smile. "I haven't roasted a rabbit in years, you know, never mind caught one. Not much call for it in a big town." He helped himself to more honey and Ingrid found herself fascinated by the way he licked his thumb when a drop landed on it. Something inside her quivered at the sight of his tongue lapping at the shiny drop, such an intimate thing to see. "And the food's nowhere near as tasty in London as it is here."

"Why did you leave your home and go so far?"

As much as she sometimes resented being part of such a small community where everyone knew her and nothing was new, she could not fathom going somewhere like London on her own. Even after the misadventure with Ivar she had not considered leaving, which went to show she didn't have an adventurous bone in her body.

Caedmon's face became an inscrutable mask and she knew without a doubt that he had been fleeing something, or someone, and didn't want to talk about it. She dipped her last piece of bread in honey and did not insist. Some burdens were not meant to be shared and didn't she know it.

"I'm rather tired. Do you mind if I get some sleep?" he asked, eyeing up the corner where he'd slept the night before.

"Of course not."

What else did he want her to say? Send him out into the night at that time? Offering him shelter was the least she could do after what he'd done for her.

"I'll wish you good night then."

Caedmon fell asleep with enviable ease, but having slept for most of the day, Ingrid was not tired. She spent long moments watching him. He was so…She searched long and hard for the best way to describe him, then when he turned and allowed his arm to unfurl on the floor by his side, she settled on "elegant".

Yes, that was a good word. Everything about him was lithe, slender, graceful. She could have watched him for days and still be surprised by the way he opened his hand or tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. It was like watching leaves swirling in the breeze on a crisp autumn day when one had only ever seen them attached to trees before, familiar and yet, completely new.

Riveting.

In any case, it mattered not what he was. Elegant, thoughtful or exotic, the Saxon would be gone tomorrow, and she would never see him again.