Page 42 of Heart of Fire
Eleven
THE NEXT DAY,Rurik went in search of Freyja, feeling oddly restless. He’d taken care of the threat against her, now he just needed to charm the stubborn woman. At least he had yesterday’s success still brewing in hismind.
And in hisbody.
He knew why he felt restless. Denying himself release yesterday during his encounter with Freyja had been sensible, as she wasn’t quite ready for that. But it stillached.
And he was fairly certain yesterday’s events would be lingering in her mind too. Which meant one step forward, no doubt two steps back. The bloody woman could give a rock lessons instubbornness.
The faint scent of her captured his attention, and Rurik tilted his head toward the back of the house.There.
She was just lowering a wooden box into the dirt near the hot spring behind the house. Baking more of that bread he liked so much, by the look of it. Taking her pitchfork, she swept the heated earth back over the top of the cask, then brushed strands of damp hair from herforehead.
“Good morning,” he called, striding down the slope towardher.
Freyja’s shoulders stiffened faintly, but she nodded to him. “Morning? I’ve been up for almost sixhours.”
“So have I,” he toldher.
Freyja shot him a doubtful look. “Doingwhat?”
Flying halfway across Iceland, and paying a small fortune for things he thought she would like. “Preparing a surprise foryou.”
“A surprise? Forme?”
“It’s the sort of thing one does when one is wooing a young lady.” Rurik crossed his arms over his chest, hoping her curiosity was stronger than her wariness. “Or so I amtold.”
“I don’t have time for surprises,” she said, and he admitted she did look tired. But Freyja also hesitated, and glanced at him from beneath those thick darklashes.
Curiosity engaged.He smiled. “Give me an hour, and I will give you my afternoon’s labor. After all, you do not know what I have inmind....”
“As long as it doesn’t involve hay,” shesaid.
“Nor stuffing it down someone’sshirt.”
Freyja tried to fight a smile, but couldn’t seem to help herself. “Do you never cease? You’re incorrigible and relentlessand—”
“An excellentlover.”
She shot him a swift glare. “What happened yesterday will not happenagain.”
Rurik brushed his hand against her hip as he moved past her; the lightest of caresses, as he murmured in her ear, “You shouldn’t make promises you might not be able tokeep.”
“Do you think you’re the first man who has set his sights on me?” Freyja looked dangerous as she turned to follow him, pitchfork in hand. “Yes, you might own a silver tongue, and I’ll admit you intrigue me, but no man has won my heart before and I doubt one everwill.”
“Perhaps. But then, you have never been wooed by one such asI.”
A frustrated sound echoed in the back of her throat. Freyja stabbed the pitchfork into theground.
“Spare me an hour, and I’ll leave you alone,” he said, taking pity on her and capturing her fingers. “One hour, Freyja. Do you not want to know what surprise I have in store foryou?”
She was wavering. He saw it in her eyes. “One hour,” she finally said, sighing. “It had better be worthit.”
“Oh, it will be.” Tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, Rurik led her around the house, into thesunshine.
He’d spread the blanket within a circle of birches that guarded the hilltop overlooking Freyja’s farm. The birches stood in a perfect circle around them, and though he remained wary about entering such a circle, he couldn’t sense any magic within it. Freyja’s interest was piqued when she saw the blanket and the basket he’d setout.
“A picnic,” sheexclaimed.
