Page 11 of Heart of Fire
She sat and let him push her chair in, his knuckles brushing against her shoulders. A spark of heat went all the way through her at the touch. Freyja half glanced over her shoulder, but he was moving, circling the table with fluid grace and sinking into the chair oppositeher.
“Now come, my lady.” He leaned back in his chair. “Tell me aboutyourself.”
Four
“WEREWE NOT speaking of you, and your fascination fordreki, my lord?” His little mousecountered.
She smelled like wildflowers and a spring morning, of dew wet on the grass, or the breeze that cut the mountain passes. Wild and free.Untamable.
The look on her face, however, was almost frigid; a cool, biting wind from the south, coming straight off the glaciers. Rurik leaned back in the seat, perusing her with lazyfascination.
Her manner ought to have left him cold, but he found himself only curious. She had not been so wary of him when she faced him in his lair. Only now, as a man before her, did he make her nervous, and he knew preciselywhy.
“I am not a very interestingman.”
She arched a brow. “I beg to differ. After all, you didn’t deny the courtesy title I just bestowed uponyou.”
Clever mouse. He gestured to the serving maid to bring them wine. “You demand all of my secrets, and here I have not even yourname...”
That made her pretty mouth purse. “Freyja. FreyjaHelgasdottir.”
Freyja. Of course. “Goddess of love and war, beauty and death. It’s a lovelyname.”
“I am nogoddess.”
“That depends upon whose eyes you lookthrough.”
Pink darkened her cheeks. “I have no wish to offend thegods.”
“So, you still believe in the oldgods?”
Freyja hesitated. “I have been baptized, but I believe there are some things in this world that defy explanation.” Those mismatched eyes locked on him. “And you are doing an excellent job of not answering my original question, Inotice.”
“I am not a noble man, by the very definition of the word,” he said carefully. “I own no lands,”—technically true—“I have no specific title, and I claim noking.”
“Do you mean you do not recognize the Danish king? Iceland has a limited constitution now, and some autonomy. Were you a follower of Jón Sigurðsson? My father had older copies of his annual magazine, and I have read his thoughts ondemocracy.”
This was where she came alive. Each flicker of her eyes toward him—those beautiful, unique eyes—made his bodyharden.
So she was curious about his thoughts, but immune to his flattery. Howintriguing.
“No. I have not heard of this Sigurðsson—I’ve been absorbed in other matters of interest—but I do believe no... no man rules the earth beneath him. Not here.” He examined the bottle of wine the serving maid brought him, then nodded. “This willdo.”
Freyja’s cheeks colored. “I do not drinkwine.”
“Have you ever tried it?” He remembered delicious vintages from his youth, when he’d drifted through Renaissance Italy and France, curious about these mortals aroundhim.
“No.”
“Do you wish to?” he asked, ordering hismeal.
Freyja hesitated, but there was a ruthlessly mercenary look in her eye. “I shall make do with ale.” She looked to the serving maid. “And I should like the ptarmigan stew with sliced rúgbrauðbread.”
He kept catching hints of her thoughts, thrown into the world about her with careless abandon. And right now, she was thinking of gold coins. As much as he liked gold, he couldn’t quite imagine what it had to do with wine and ale. “I never makedo.”
She eyed the cut of his magnificent coat. “Of that, I have nodoubt.”
Hmmm. “Bring two glasses just in case,” he instructed the serving maid, “and my lady will have ale on theside.”
