A drop of water splashed on to Danr’s cheek. He rolled on to his good side to avoid it and put his face in a patch of soggy and foul-tasting moss instead. He muttered an oath and rolled back again, listening to the sound of rain outside. Although he noticed it wasn’t just one sound. It was several. Quick splashes, slow splashes, soft splashes, heavy splashes—none of which sounded as if they had any intention of stopping any time soon. His pelt roof had obviously blown away and now an icy wind was finding its way through every nook and cranny in his shelter, of which there appeared to be many, chilling all the wet patches of his clothing. He’d lain down less than an hour ago and now he had a sinking feeling that it was going to be a very long night.
He gave up trying to sleep, propping himself up on his elbows to look outside. Despite the rain, the moon was still bright enough for him to make out the shape of the roundhouse in the centre of the clearing. There was a trail of smoke twisting up from the hole in the roof, unlike his own fire, which had long since given up its battle with the elements. Not surprisingly, Halvar had already abandoned him. He really should have devoted more time and attention to building his shelter, Danr thought regretfully. He probably ought to do something about it now, though how exactly he was going to block up so many holes in the dark he had no idea. Maybe if he asked nicely, Sissa would let him spend the night in her cave. It would be freezing, but at least he’d be dry.
Sissa. Just the thought of her warmed him a little. He felt pleased and honoured that she’d finally trusted him enough to tell him her name. Now that he knew it, it seemed so obvious, too. How could he ever have thought her a Bersa? She couldn’t be anything but Sissa. It suited her. Just like her wild hair and oyster-pearl eyes suited her... They were what made her beautiful. Or at least beautiful in her own way. A way that he was finding more and more appealing. Not that sitting there thinking about that was going to do anything to keep him dry. If he wasn’t careful he’d catch a fever...
He crawled forward and heaved himself to his feet, ready to make a valiant and probably pointless attempt to repair his shelter, when the leather curtain of the roundhouse moved aside and Sissa’s narrow face peered out.
‘Are you awake?’ She spoke in a loud whisper.
‘Very!’
‘Then come here!’
‘What?’ For a moment he wondered if he’d fallen asleep after all and was dreaming.
‘Come here unless you want to catch your death, but hurry up.’ She lifted a hand to beckon him. ‘The heat’s escaping.’
He didn’t wait to be told again, jumping to his feet and hurrying across the clearing, ducking his head under the doorway to step inside. The space within was illuminated by firelight and looked far bigger than he’d expected, with a raised central hearth framed by a bench on one side, an old wooden coffer on the other and a pile of furs opposite the door, above which hung an assortment of herbs that gave the air a pungent, almost heady aroma. Tove and Halvar were already asleep, he noticed, stretched out on the floor with their heads pressed together and snoring softly. It all looked snug and cosy and inviting. Too snug and cosy and inviting, it struck him suddenly. Three years ago, he would have been more than happy to be trapped in such a place with a woman. Now he wondered if the frigid cave might have been a wiser idea, after all...
‘How have you survived so long, Danr Sigurdsson?’ Sissa put her hands on her hips, looking him up and down critically. ‘Tomorrow we’ll build you a better shelter, but right now you should sit by the fire for a while. You’ll dry soon enough.’
‘Thank you.’ He ruffled his hands through his hair and sat down on the bench. ‘I never did like rain.’
‘I know. It was one of the first things you said to me.’
‘You remember that?’ He felt absurdly pleased by the fact. ‘I didn’t think you were listening to me that day.’
‘I was. You said you hated drizzle and clouds that hang in the air for days.’
‘Doesn’t everyone?’
She shrugged. ‘The rain feeds the forest. Without the grey days, the bright ones wouldn’t be so beautiful.’
‘I’d still rather have one big storm than a week of grey.’
‘Big storms cause damage. Trees are blown down and animals are frightened. You need more patience, Norseman.’ She gave him a chiding look and then clambered on to the pile of furs, pulling her knees to her chest and then tilting her head at the sound of a low rumble of thunder in the distance. ‘But perhaps you’ll get your wish.’
‘Mmm?’ Danr lifted his gaze quickly from where her tunic had ridden up to her calves. ‘What wish?’
‘It sounds as if there’s a storm coming.’
‘Ah.’ He averted his face to stare intently into the fire. It hadn’t exactly been what he’d been wishing for at that moment, but as long as she didn’t guess what had really been on his mind—or, more specifically, which part of her body... He gritted his teeth, re-ordering his thoughts before glancing back over his shoulder. ‘I thought you’d be asleep by now. You said you were tired.’
‘I am.’ She looked pensive. ‘But I was thinking.’
‘About my stupidity again?’ He quirked an eyebrow, but her expression remained serious.
‘About everything you told me. You might have rushed in too quickly by confronting your stepmother, but it was understandable. You thought you’d found the person responsible for destroying your family. Most people would probably have acted the same way. Maybe reckless is a better word.’
‘It sounds better.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Thank you.’
She nodded her head and patted the space next to her on the furs. ‘You can sleep here when you’re dry.’
‘You mean beside you?’ He felt as if all the air in the room had just been sucked up through the chimney.
‘Yes. You can’t sleep on the bench and it’s not good to sleep so close to the fire.’
‘I can sleep on the floor.’
She gave him a questioning look and then shrugged as if she didn’t care either way, wriggling down beneath her furs. ‘Do as you please. Only, if you do decide to sleep here don’t wake me.’
Sissa opened her eyes, brought back to consciousness by the tumult of wind and rain outside. The rumble of thunder had apparently been just the beginning of a storm. The rain was coming down in torrents now, lashing the sides of the roundhouse, finding its way down the chimney and making the hearth sizzle. She’d found it hard enough getting to sleep at all, firstly because she’d been worried about him freezing to death outside and then, after she’d invited him in, because her mind had still kept on whirling with everything he’d told her. She’d stared at the turf wall beside her head for a long time, thinking. His story had been difficult to listen to, so close to her own that she’d felt her stomach churn and a cold sweat break out on her brow several times. At one point she’d almost begged him to stop, feeling as if she were about to be sick.
Fortunately, she hadn’t, mumbling a few brief words of sympathy instead before shifting his attention on to the subject of his stepmother. It had been easier to think about who might have been responsible for the massacre than the events themselves. She didn’t blame Danr for suspecting Hilda, but she couldn’t help but feel there were holes in his theory. There were other holes in what he’d told her, too, about where he’d been when the massacre had happened, for example, but it was obvious he hadn’t wanted to tell her, which meant that, wherever he had been, he felt guilty about it.
She rolled on to her other side and almost bumped into him. She’d assumed that he’d chosen to sleep on the floor since she hadn’t felt him get into bed before she’d finally drifted off to sleep, which made his presence beside her something of a surprise now, albeit not an unpleasant one. He was lying on his back, his broad chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm of long, drawn-out breaths. She wasn’t sure why she’d invited him into her bed when she might have simply have offered him a fur for the floor, but it had seemed a reasonable idea at the time. Sharing a warm bed on a cold, stormy night was only practical, just as it had been when she’d been nursing him, although she had to admit that her feelings towards him had changed significantly in the few days since. She still had no intention of letting him stay any longer than was necessary, but now that she knew his story, he seemed more real somehow, less of a warrior and more of a man. It made it impossible to see him as just a warm body, either. Ever since that moment when their fingers had tangled, she’d found herself becoming more and more curious about him, not to mention more and more tempted to touch him again. It was strange how the idea of touching someone, of being touched as well, didn’t alarm her in the way it had even a day ago. Now she was aware of a strange yearning sensation, wondering what it would be like to feel his skin against hers. The warmth radiating from his body tempted her to move closer and find out, to reach out and stroke her fingers across his chest, just to see how it felt...
She resisted the impulse, rolling away from him to stare at the ceiling instead.
‘Can’t you sleep?’
‘Oh!’ The sound of his voice in her ear made her start guiltily. Had he known she’d just been staring at him? ‘No. I was thinking again.’
‘So was I.’ He smiled as she twisted her face back towards him. ‘About how glad I am you took pity on me tonight. I would have been washed away by now otherwise.’
‘Probably.’
He folded his good arm behind his head, his expression turning serious. ‘If you’re still thinking about what I told you earlier, then I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘No.’ She swallowed, intensely aware of the curve of his bicep beside her. ‘I wasn’t thinking of that...’ Her voice trailed away as heat flared in her chest. How could she tell him what she’d really just been thinking? He’d said that he couldn’t mate and she didn’t even know if she wanted to, but on the other hand, why not talk to him about it? He was the one who liked talking so much. What was the worst that could happen? He could walk out and leave? She’d already told him to do that. Repeatedly.
‘You.’ She spoke before she could change her mind. ‘I was thinking about you.’
‘Me?’ She saw a flash of something in his eyes, quickly extinguished. ‘Then I’m flattered.’
‘Why can’t you mate?’
‘Why...?’ This time his expression seemed to freeze. ‘What?’
‘When I asked if you wanted to mate with me, you said you couldn’t. Why not?’
‘It’s complicated.’ He gave a small cough. ‘And you said you didn’t want a mate.’
‘I don’t, but I’m still curious.’ She ran her tongue over her bottom lip as her mouth turned dry. ‘Do you already have a mate?’
‘You mean a wife?’ He shifted beneath the furs, rearranging them slightly on top of him. ‘No.’
‘But you said that women liked you?’
‘They always seemed to, yes.’
‘So you like mating, but not having a mate?’
‘Ye-es, I suppose so. I did anyway.’
‘Some people come into the forest to mate.’ She drew her brows together. ‘It looks strange. Not the way animals do it.’
‘Really?’ There was a pained, slightly husky note to his voice all of a sudden.
‘They look at each other, with their faces together, like this.’ She leaned towards him at the same moment as there was a loud crack of thunder above. ‘But they seem to enjoy it.’
‘Yes, it can be...pleasurable either way.’
‘You mean there’s more than one way for people?’
‘A few...’
‘A few?’ Both her eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘What are the others?’
‘This may not be the best time to discuss it.’ He cleared his throat, not that it seemed to help. His voice sounded even huskier, as if he were having trouble getting words out at all.
‘Are you all right? Here.’ She sat up and leaned over him, reaching for the flagon of water she kept beside the bed. ‘Drink some of this.’
‘Sissa...’ He sounded as if he were in some kind of pain.
‘What? You sound like you need it.’
‘I need something.’
She gave him a puzzled look and lay down again, one hand resting beneath her cheek. ‘So what does it feel like?’
‘What?’ He paused with the flagon against his lips.
‘Mating? How is it pleasurable?’
‘I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.’
‘You’re at a loss for words?’
‘Some words, yes.’ He took a long swallow and put the flagon aside. ‘Particularly those ones.’
‘You won’t even try to describe it?’
‘Moon’s eye, woman.’ He spun his face towards her again. ‘I’m trying to be good!’
‘But you just said that mating was pleasurable!’
‘It is. Very pleasurable sometimes, but I’m trying to be good with you. You’re an innocent.’
‘But I asked.’
He muttered something under his breath. ‘All right. It’s like losing yourself. You don’t think, you just feel.’
‘Mmm.’ She rolled on to her back again, feeling even more curious. Could mating really be as pleasurable as he said? Would it be pleasurable with him?
It wasn’t until he inhaled sharply that she realised she’d just asked the question aloud. Heat flooded her body, but now that she’d asked...
‘Would I find it pleasurable with you?’ she repeated the question. ‘If you and I were to mate, I mean.’
‘Sissa!’ He let out something between a cough and an expletive. ‘Trust me, I’m not good mate material.’
‘I’m only asking what if. I’m curious.’
‘Curiosity can be dangerous.’
‘But I want to know...’