She felt his eyes on her, but she didn’t care. That’s what he got for assuming she didn’t like ale.
“Well, then,” he said and motioned to the serving woman for another ale. “I suppose I should ask next time.”
Synne nodded as she spooned the stew into her mouth. “You should. This is delicious.”
He ate his stew slower, seemingly not affected at all by the cold. She was envious that the weather didn’t bother him. She was used to snow and the cold, but during English winters. Scottish ones were another creature altogether.
With her belly full, she sat back and leisurely drank her ale. The tavern was loud, like any other. There were the drunkards who spilled more from their tankards than what got into their mouths. The old men who sat together, eyeing those they didn’t like and grumbling about one thing or another. Then there were the ones who had ducked into the place for some food and drink but otherwise wanted to be left alone. Those could generally be found in the corners.
“Everything looks normal,” she said.
Lachlan made a sound in the back of his throat. He finished off his ale and set his tankard down. “Looks can be deceiving. Our room is the third on the left. I’ve asked for a bath for you. It should be ready by now. I’m going to find you another cloak and see what I can learn from those in the village.”
Synne pulled out her coin purse and handed it to him. “Take what you need for the cloak.”
“I’ve got it,” he said. “Keep that for later.”
“Thank you.”
He flashed her a smile and got to his feet. “I’ll be back.”
Synne didn’t even wait until he was gone before she rose. The idea of a bath was too tempting to resist. She grabbed her tankard and took it up the stairs to the rooms. She entered the third to find a servant girl with red hair and a face full of freckles filling a wooden tub full of water, steam rising from the surface.
“Thank you,” Synne told her.
Synne set aside her bow and arrows after the servant had left, then removed her cloak and tossed it onto the bed. Then she took off her boots and undressed before getting into the water.
It felt so good, she sighed in contentment. Her feet were full of pinpricks, they were so cold, but it didn’t take long for them to warm up. She lounged for as long as she dared before she unbraided her hair and scrubbed it as well as her body. The last thing she wanted was to stay too long and have the water cool, so she was shivering again. It was bad enough that she would have nothing to put on when she finished with the bath.
Regardless, she felt like a new person when she stood.
12
With a new cloak for Synne in hand—as well as information—Lachlan made his way back to the tavern and up the stairs. He was surprised that Synne hadn’t been angry to learn there was only one room for the night, and they’d be sharing it. Then again, she wasn’t like other women he knew.
That didn’t mean he didn’t feel the attraction. It meant he fought it.
And it was a losing battle.
He’d kept quiet at the meal because he wasn’t sure if he should room with her. When they traveled, she slept on one side of the fire, and he on the other. This was a room. With a bed. Why that should be any different, he didn’t know. But it was. Staying with her meant tempting himself in ways he wasn’t sure he could handle.
Lachlan paused by the door and listened. There was no sound of sloshing water, so he assumed she was finished with her bath. He opened the door and stepped inside to find Synne standing in the tub, her blond hair wet and hanging to her waist while her body was outlined by the fire in front of her.
Dimly, he heard someone coming up the stairs. He softly closed the door behind him as his gaze took in her back and the outline of her hips. His mouth went dry, and his cock hardened. Blood pounded in his ears as the fire crackled to fill the silence.
There were many things Lachlan wished to do. The first was to go to Synne and pull her into his arms for a long, slow kiss. Then he wanted to run his hands over every inch of her body before he had her screaming in pleasure as he gave her orgasm after orgasm. He’d never wanted someone as fiercely or as fervently as he did Synne.
It was laughable that he’d thought he had been managing his attraction thus far. He realized it had all been an illusion. He’d lusted after her since the first moment he spotted her outside the forest. Once he spoke to her, it had never entered his mind to leave her side.
His hand tightened around the cloak he’d bought for her. He craved to taste her lips, wished he were holding her.
Hungered to know her body.
She looked at him over her shoulder. They stared at each other, neither speaking. The cloak dropped from his numb fingers, falling with a soft whoosh to the floor. In the next breath, he saw Synne shiver from the cold air. Lachlan slowly walked to her, their gazes never breaking. When he reached her, he bent and retrieved the towel that had been left near the fire to warm. He opened it wide and waited.
Seconds ticked by before Synne turned her back to him once more and allowed him to wrap the towel around her. Then he held her hand as she stepped from the water to stand near the hearth. Being so near to her, he saw the beads of water on her skin and ached to lick them.
She didn’t release his hand as she turned to face him. He didn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything. He’d never sought out female companionship, but Synne wasn’t like others. That was partly what made him long for her as he did. Her beauty was just an added benefit.
His gaze lowered to her neck and shoulders. That’s when he saw that there was something on her skin. The shadows had kept him from seeing it before. As if sensing his interest, she shook her head to move her wet hair and leaned her head back so he could see better.
Below each collarbone was a boar’s head, one facing the other. Intricate knotwork extended out and up over her shoulders to disappear onto her back. Lachlan reached out and touched her skin. It was smooth, but the design was beautiful. Synne then turned around and lifted her long length of hair so he could see that the ink extended all the way around her back in one smooth design.
“The Norse believed that animal spirits, called fylgia, accompanied their gods. The boar was the fylgia of Freya, the goddess of love. It was called Hildisvini, or Battle Swine, and was always with Freya in wars. I dreamed of boars often. A few years later, I found one injured and saved it. Asa told me that the boar was my fylgia, and gave me this tattoo,” Synne explained in a soft voice.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She dropped her hair over one shoulder and dropped the towel so he could see her entire back. “This is a Yggdrasil in Norse, or the Tree of Life for the Celts.”
Lachlan was awestruck by the branches and roots that twisted into more knotwork while the design took up her entire back. “Amazing.”
“This is a symbol of the connection between all things in the world. As above, so below. Nothing can die, and everything is in a constant state of unending transformation.”
Lachlan was mesmerized. “Do you have more?”
Synne turned to face him and held out her left arm to show the underside and the ink there. “This is a Web of Wyrd, but it’s also known as Skuld’s Net. It connects the past, present, and future. It’s said that the Web of Wyrd was woven by the Nornir, the Shapers of Destiny. It’s constructed of nine staves and all the runes.”