Page 2 of Haakon's Fate
“You’re right. Do you think I can ask him to marry me?”
Gytha thought a moment. In truth, she wasn’t sure men would appreciate a woman doing the asking. Wouldn’t they feel it was their place to ask? Well, this was not a problem for her to solve. Eadhild would know whether to take the risk or not.
“This is something for you to decide. You know him better than I do. Now, let’s go.”
The two women didn’t try to hide. The best way to appear innocent was to behave as if you were doing nothing wrong, so they simply pretended they were going to the market together,as they did every week. The only difference was, they didn’t stop once they had reached the last row of stalls, they carried on to the south gate. There, they nudged their mounts into an easy canter. At this pace, they soon reached the village of huts nestled in a bend of the river. It had become a familiar sight, one soothing even for her, though, unlike it did for Eadhild, the place didn’t harbor anyone special.
As soon as they dismounted, Gytha took the bridle from Eadhild’s hands and gave her a smile.
“Go. I’ll wait here with the horses.”
“Thank you. I…might be a while,” her friend told her, reddening.
“I know. You always are.”
Gytha always did her best not to imagine what happened between Eadhild and Halfdan when she waited alone in the forest, but it was hard not to, even if the images were not very precise. She had a vague idea of what men and women did together but, having never bedded anyone, she could not know for sure. Her only experience was with Theodebert, and they had never gone that far. He would have liked to, she knew, but mercifully he had heeded her refusal the few times he had actually bared his member to her. A few caresses had been enough to bring him the release he needed and he had never asked to reciprocate and show her pleasure.
Well, was it any wonder, considering he’d never really wanted her? No. But why was she thinking about him now? She had sworn to put men out of her mind until her father’s time as reeve came to an end. Then she could finally start looking for someone who had nothing to gain by marrying her. Nothing but a wife he loved and who loved him back, at least. It was time. She was almost four-and-twenty and she did want to get married one day, have a family.
The horses were tethered to a nearby tree, in a patch of luscious grass and Gytha settled herself on a log. In preparation for the long wait, she had brought the shift she had started working on, a present for her mother, to be given to her next Christmas. It would be embroidered with daisies, her favorite flower.
Surrounded by birdsong, Gytha started to sew.
Haakon skiddedto a halt as he rounded the boulder. Was he dreaming?
Barely a moment after he’d decided that he didn’t want to see a Saxon woman ever again, here he was, walking straight into one. There was no mistaking the fact that this was no Norsewoman. Her hair was a rich, deep brown rarely seen in his village. It played with the sunlight when she moved, instead of absorbing it like blond hair had a tendency to. He suspected that when she looked up at him, it would be through liquid dark eyes. Or they might be mossy green. Or light brown. Or misty gray, or even frosty blue. One could never know, with Saxons. That was one of the many appeals they held.
Hadheld once, he corrected himself. Not anymore. He had just decided that enough was enough.
Instead of retreating back to the bushes, he looked at the woman more closely. Was she… Yes. She was embroidering the cuff of a delicate shirt, as if this were the most normal thing to do outside in a forest.
Unable to resist, he walked forward. “Are you sure this is the right place to?—”
He stopped when the woman, startled by the sound of his voice, let out a squeak and dropped the garment she was working on.
“You…idiot!” she cried out. “Look what you made me do.”
She stared at the shirt now lying in a patch of mud and mumbled something under her breath, probably a series of curses aimed at him.
Laughter burst out of Haakon. It was perhaps rude of him but no one had ever called him an idiot before—to his face, at least—and this was such an absurd scene that he couldn’t help himself.
“I didn’t make you do anything,” he said while she lifted the shirt between her thumb and forefinger. “I didn’t even touch you. You just dropped the shirt. Hardly my fault.”
The woman looked up to glare at him and the laughter got stuck in Haakon’s throat. He had suspected the color of her eyes would take him by surprise but he was still stunned. The irises were of a pale, luminous green that reflected the patches of light piercing through the trees. They seemed to shimmer and the effect was entrancing. But those incredible eyes were not the only beautiful thing about her.
Everything else was perfect. Well, not perfect, exactly, but precisely what he conjured when he imagined himself married to a Saxon wife.
Hadimagined, he corrected himself for the second time in a row. Fuck, forgetting about his dream might be more difficult than he had anticipated.
“How do you explain this, then?” the woman asked, showing him the soiled garment in her hand.
He shrugged. “If you don’t want your delicate work to be dirtied, perhaps you should refrain from embroidering outside in the wild. I mean… I assume you don’t grow mushrooms under your table, do you?”
“Mushrooms—I’m sorry, what are you talking about?”
He nodded at the needle she was holding upright, like a warrior would hold his sword. “You’re doing something all the people I know do in their home, so it makes sense you would do what most people do in the forest in your home.”
“So what if I were?” she challenged instead of acknowledging the truth of his word. “Is that forbidden?”
