Page 111 of Storm of Fury
Tormund didn’t know how lucky he was to have such good friends and family.
“That’s Nora,” Tormund told her under his breath, lifting his arm and waving at a face that peered through a window.
The woman vanished, as if she hadn’t expected to be seen.
“She’s the eldest and thinks her baby brother, Haakon, is a god made flesh. Whatever you do, donotdisparage him. He shits solid gold kroner, according to Nora.” Tormund shifted the weight of his bag. “And Leah is the one hanging washing on the line. You may have faced the boldest of the gods, but if you break my heart she will come after you with a harpoon.”
Bryn shot him a shocked look. “I’m not going to break your heart. Because you’re not going to give it to me.”
He shrugged. “I’m just warning you.”
That wasn’t ano.
“Tormund,” she growled. “We said this would be just a quest—”
“It is just a quest.” He smiled at her. “And don’t look now, but the twins, Margit and Mille, have just seen you. Mille is going to want to know all about your sword. All she wants to do is follow in Haakon’s footsteps, but Margit is quiet and bookish. She won’t say much. And then there’s Arne, who’s more interested in farming than in women. He won’t even notice you’re here.”
“Tormund.”
“The last cousin is Linnea, but she’s probably out in the fields with the horses still. She’s the only one who won’t question how long you’ve been in love with me for. She’ll want to know if you can ride.”
“Tormund!” Bryn grabbed his arm. She’d been right. This was a trap.
“What?”
“Your family can’t think there’s anything between us.”
“Why?” He gave her that faint smile that dared her to play with him. “When we part ways, they’ll never see you again. They’ll probably mutter that you were never good enough for me anyway, and then they’ll try and invite me to gatherings where one of their ‘friends’ just happens to be searching for a husband. But you shall never have to see their censure. Why does it bother you?”
She swallowed. “Because… they’re your family. I don’t want… I….”
“Yes?”
She stared at him. She didn’t have the answer for that. He was right. These people would be strangers to her. But they weren’t strangers to him, and despite everything, she didn’t want them to think poorly of her. It was clear that Haakon’s family was desperately important to Tormund, and some foolish little part of her wanted them to like her.
Tormund waited patiently for her to form the words.
And for the first time in her life, she couldn’t find the courage. “I don’t… want them to hate me. Afterward.”
Thought darkened his eyes, but he merely nodded. “As you wish.”
And then he turned and strode toward the largest house at the end of the lane, his shoulders set and square, like a warrior walking to his doom.
Before he could even knock, a woman opened the door breathlessly, her graying hair bound back by a red kerchief. Her eyes slid over the pair of them as if looking for someone else, but then she rushed forward and hugged Tormund.
“Oh, my boy,” she cried, squeezing him so hard he actually grunted. “Where have you been? Where is my son?” She drew back and poked him in the ribs. “You are far too skinny! Who has been feeding you?”
“Aunt Brunhild.” Tormund dutifully kissed her cheek. “If I’m skinny, it’s because your son is a terrible cook. And he’s had to return to Iceland in a hurry, though if he knew we were coming here he would have wanted to linger.”
The woman huffed and puffed, circling Tormund and pinching his sides. “Haakon has been running you ragged. I can see it all over you.”
“He has.” Tormund gave her soulful eyes. “Barely feeds me. Barely lets me sleep. We’ve been off huntingdrekiprinces, and you know how he gets.”
“Bah! I thought his new wife would put a stop to such matters.”
“So did I.”
He played the poor, beleaguered cousin with such consummate grace Bryn suffered a moment of actual sympathy for Haakon.
