The Shielded Heart Page 9

  In her mind, he might as well have come out and said he thought she was stupid, too ignorant to know about anything but the work she did. His words cut straight into the heart of her own beliefs and fears about herself. She didn’t know anything else…She was ignorant of the world. Her world lay within the walls of her workshop, the one place where her word was law. Once she stepped beyond them—even here in Murat, her home—she felt lost in a foreign land. She wanted to understand what life was like, to fit in, but ’twas too late for her now. She’d lived this life for so long, she scarce remembered any other.

  He sobered, all trace of humor gone from his face. “Nay, Anna.” His voice sounded sincere, but he’d glanced down, and without a glimpse of those telltale eyes…How could she judge? “I would never say that to you.”

  Surprised by her own boldness, she raised her hands to frame his face and stared into his eyes.

  “How would I know that?” she asked. She wanted to believe him. Swen didn’t know her well enough to see the fears she tried to keep hidden, she reminded herself. He’d been grinning at her before—mayhap he’d simply thought to jest with her. She’d been too defensive to realize he’d meant naught by his words. “I don’t know you—nor do you know me.”

  “True. But can’t you trust that I wouldn’t intentionally try to hurt you?”

  “I can try.” And she would. But for now, the hurt still lingered. Anna released him, stepped back, took another deep breath and sought to calm herself—until she noticed how Swen’s gaze had lowered to view the corresponding rise and fall of her bosom. A flush of embarrassment rose to her cheeks to join with the heat already coloring her face.

  Too bad she couldn’t hold her breath until he left, she thought with a silent snarl.

  Without that option, however, she vowed to take slow, shallow, calming breaths, and to ignore his bold perusal. She almost folded her arms protectively across her chest, until she realized that when Swen did so—indeed, as he did this instant—it caused a reaction the opposite of that she sought. Her gaze kept creeping back to his broad shoulders and chest, lingering on the sharp delineation of his tanned, muscular arms—exposed by the cropped sleeves of his fine woolen tunic—in the flickering lamplight.

  “Why are you still angry with me, Anna?” Swen asked, his deep voice gentled to a soothing rumble.

  “I’m not,” she snapped. His kindness now felt like a thorn in her side, needling her on, gouging at her temper.

  “You’re not happy, that much even I can tell.” He dipped his chin and squinted his eyes, peering at her as though he were trying to memorize her features.

  Her scowling face should keep him awake at night, she thought, biting back a chuckle. ‘Twould serve him right.

  Good thing he didn’t know how close she was to screwing her face into a truly horrifying expression. “Stop being kind to me,” she demanded. She took a turn about the room, boot heels thumping hard against the planks of the floor, her long strides quickly carrying her back to Swen. “I don’t deserve it. I’m not angry with you, I’m annoyed at myself.”

  Anna kept her hands down at her sides, fingers clenched. The powerful temptation to move closer to Swen shocked her. How she wanted to grab him by the front of the tunic, and shake him until she wiped away the aggravating look of amusement that had returned to his oh-so-handsome face.

  But not nearly as much as the equally strong yearning to grab him by the tunic and employ a completely different method to rid him of his smile.

  It wasn’t possible to smile while mouth to mouth, was it? She pressed her own lips into a firm line to combat the urge to grin at the image that thought brought to mind. Holy Mary save her from yielding to the desire to find out the answer for herself.

  And her hands—aye, ’twas a blessing her fingers remained knit tight into fists by her sides. How she’d love to smooth her palms over his arms, to feel for herself the strength he held leashed inside his brawny frame.

  “Feel free to turn the brunt of your anger upon me,” he offered. He unfolded his arms and took a step toward her. “Pound away.” He tapped his chest. “Right here, if you wish. I’m strong enough to take it. You’ll do me no harm, and perhaps it will ease your temper.”

  Could he see inside her mind? Nay, if that were the case, he’d have run fast and hard away from her long ago, for fear she’d attack him—and not the way he intended, by any means.

  “No, thank you.” She moved away from Swen another pace, removing herself from his sphere—and edging herself farther from the hearth as well. Though the warmth suffusing her body now owed little to the banked coals of the forge, and much to the fires Swen Siwardson ignited within her, at the moment she felt toasted from within and without. ’Twas too much. “There’s no need for me to make you bear the brunt of my temper.”

  What would he do, she wondered, if she should suddenly flee, as she wished to do?

  He’d know her for the coward she was. Better to stay put. How she wished she could find a way out of this morass she’d created for herself. If only she could think of something suitably cutting to say to him, some way to sever this strange bond between them, but the only response that came readily to mind was a shriek of outrage.

  At herself.

  He did nothing, yet here she stood…Thinking thoughts she had no business even bringing to mind, feeling what was doubtless a one-sided lust—she could think of no other word for it—toward a decent man who had done nothing more than offer to protect her and to be her friend.

  And what did she do for him but snarl and snap? Anna looked deep inside herself, and found her childish tantrum pathetic.

  Swen had returned to the table and leaned his hip on the edge when she refused his offer. He stood waiting with far more patience than she could bear. His mouth still curved in a smile—a quizzical one now, not that annoying grin—and he watched her with a curiosity she couldn’t miss. Did he find her intriguing, a puzzle? Or an amusement in a place where very little served to provoke laughter?

  The last, most likely. Lord knew, she’d reached the end of her endurance herself with this ridiculous bout of self-pity.

  Her mind had gone to mush from too many confusing, conflicting thoughts. ’Twas the only explanation she could find to account for her strange behavior, she thought, frowning.

  “I meant no insult, you know, before, or by my offer.” He pushed away from the table and straightened, lowering his arms to his sides. “I simply meant that we each have our strengths.” He picked up the piece she’d been working on and ran a finger over the chased design, then set it down on its leather wrapping with a gentleness at odds with his size. “I haven’t the imagination, or the skill, to create your beautiful art. And I doubt you’ve had much call to set defenses in place, or to protect another person—or even yourself—with knife and sword. But if we each do our duty as best we can, all will be well.” He reached out and captured one of her fists in his hand and eased her fingers open. He bent and pressed his lips to her palm, making her skin tingle—from his whiskers, no doubt—then closed her fingers around the kiss. “Why does it seem I’m always asking you to forgive me?”

  Curse the man! How did he always manage to disarm her? “Nay, Swen—forgive me.” She opened her hand and laced her fingers with his, then raised his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “You don’t deserve to bear the brunt of my anger. I’m sorry for acting the spoiled child.”

  “There’s naught to forgive,” he murmured, freeing a finger and drawing it along the line of her mouth.

  She released his hand along with her breath and wrenched her gaze from the soft blue of his eyes. “I’ve kept you here too long. Please, you need not remain.” Anna picked up a graver and the panel she’d been engraving, then set them down again. Any work she attempted now, she’d likely find worthless come morning. “I’m for my bed, but if you’d care to stay here where it’s warm…” She hefted one of the boards Swen had brought in. “Tell me—what do you intend to make from this?”<
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  He smiled—an honest smile this time, one that invited her to join him in the pleasure of his reply. “If I tell you it’s a secret, will you still allow me to use your workshop and tools?” He picked up a chisel and looked it over. “While I take shelter from the cold night air, of course,” he said, throwing her earlier words back at her with a glance down at his bare arms.

  Cold night air, indeed! He appeared quite comfortable in his garb—though it was much lighter than what the villagers wore. Mayhap he didn’t feel the cold.

  And as for secrets…He could do as he liked, so long as he shared his company with her. “You and any of your men may shelter here, as I told you before.” The lamps flickered; ’twas time to put away her tools for the night. She picked up the chisels and gravers and stored them away in their case, then wrapped the soft chamois about the copper plate she’d been engraving. “Though I don’t know that I would feel comfortable with someone lurking in my shop when I’m not here. Or if I’m asleep in my chamber.” That thought held no appeal.

  “No one will enter your domain unless you give them leave, Anna. I don’t wish to interrupt your life, I only want to protect it.”

  “Fair enough.”

  As she walked about the room extinguishing the lanterns, Swen took up the boards and carried them to the far corner of the large room, leaning them against the wall near the stairs. After a glance up the ladderlike stairs, he crossed the chamber to the hearth, picked up a poker and banked the fire for the night. “I thank you for your generosity in sharing your shop. I’ll try to stay out of your way,” he said.

  As if she wouldn’t notice his presence!

  He crossed to the door and opened it, casting a glance at the sky. “’Tis a while yet before my replacement arrives, but I’ll await him outside.” He waited until she picked up the only lantern still lighted. “Sleep well, my friend,” he said soft-voiced. “And bar the door,” he added before closing the portal behind him.

  * * *

  Anna’s life soon fell into a pattern. She worked with her assistants through the day, pausing only to eat the noon meal at William’s house—without Bess coming to force her out the door, as Anna delighted in pointing out to the other woman. Then after the evening meal came the part of her day she both looked forward to, and dreaded, the most. Once supper was finished, Swen walked her back to the workshop.

  They settled into a routine of their own, with Swen busy carving the wood while she did some of the coarse detail work that didn’t require bright light for the etching. Even with a dozen lanterns lighted to counteract the darkness, at the end of the day Anna hadn’t the sharpness of vision or the patience to do much more.

  But Swen’s stories made her forget how tired she was, or her frustration when her work wasn’t coming along as she’d like. He was a treasure trove of information about other places and people, and stories of the past. Sometimes what he told her sounded so outrageous, she couldn’t be certain if the stories were true, or the product of Swen’s fertile imagination. He seemed to delight in forcing a reaction from her. Whether it be awe, disgust or wonder, Swen always found a way to evoke some response from her.

  The places he took her in her mind, the people she met through his words…Anna couldn’t have imagined, a few short weeks before, that a world—nay, a feast of the senses—such as the one Swen laid out before her could truly exist.

  Over the years she’d been told that her gift gave her a view of God’s power and grace that others could not imagine, that they were not blessed to see. But as she came to see the world beyond Murat through Swen’s eyes, she couldn’t help but question whether she’d been kept blind all this time to the true wonder of God’s creation.

  She could see an improvement in her work, a sense of life she hadn’t realized it lacked until now. Even in her day-to-day life, had she really been so oblivious to the lives and people surrounding her? Few people lived in Murat—less than sixty or seventy—yet she discovered she knew little about many of them.

  Even Bess and William, to her shame. She’d sat at their table every day for more than ten years, yet she’d scarce noticed how William’s jesting manner with his wife barely masked his all-encompassing love for her. As for Bess…Anna found her eyes welling with tears when she recalled the number of times she’d shrugged away Bess’ loving concern, or given the other woman’s solicitous questions short shrift.

  ’Twas a shock and a miracle to her to discover that, despite the fact that she’d seldom given them or their feelings a moment’s thought, they loved her anyway.

  And to find that she cared about them as well.

  There were times—such as now, she thought, bending to blot her eyes on her apron—when her heart felt almost too full to bear.

  Swen heard Anna sniffle and looked up from smoothing the edge of a board to find her trying to wipe away her tears without him noticing. A futile gesture, had she but known it—there was little about Anna de Limoges that he missed. Observing her as her interest in the world around her blossomed had become one of his favorite activities.

  As had doing what he could to make her laugh when he caught her crying.

  Her naiveté made her a prime target for teasing, for it seemed she couldn’t tell the difference between a true story or rampant exaggeration. His brother Lars, with his wit, would have made her laugh in an instant. Swen pushed aside the sadness he always felt when he thought of his brother. Who knew if he’d ever see him, or any of his family, again?

  It wasn’t quite so easy for Swen to make Anna laugh, but he’d become adept at distracting her. Indeed, at times he believed the reason she sought his company so often was her overwhelming thirst for his stories.

  It had ever been thus. Swen Siwardson, teller of tales, jests, anything to distract attention away from who—nay, what—he truly was. While he joked and laughed, no one would suspect he might have seen the destruction of their homes, the deaths of their families, the rending of the fabric of their lives by tragedy.

  Tragedy he saw while he slept.

  And remembered upon waking.

  The dreams of Ian and Lily that had sent him on his headlong flight from Gwal Draig had faded now, though the memories of them haunted him still.

  As did the shame he felt for running.

  Eager to distract himself as well as Anna, Swen set aside the wood and chisel and, brushing shavings from his tunic, joined Anna on the other side of the workbench. “We’ve labored enough for today,” he said. He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her off her stool. “Come, I’ve something to show you.”

  “Swen, I’m not through with this!” she cried as she tried to squirm from his grasp.

  Still holding her captive, he bent to squint at the piece of copper held in a vise on the edge of the table. “It doesn’t appear it will run off while we’re gone,” he said. He freed one hand and pretended to give the crank a turn. “Look, I’ve tightened its bonds. As long as we return before dawn, I believe it’s safe enough here.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I’ve work to do, sir.” She grabbed at his hands and tried to pull them from her waist. “I’ve no time for foolery.”

  But her attempts to sound stern made little impression when coupled with the light of curiosity in her amber eyes. Though she’d never admit it to him now, she wanted to go, wanted to discover what he had to show her.

  “You’ve done work enough for at least three hearty men,” he told her. “As you always do. I say, my friend, that it’s past time for you to take your ease.”

  “It’s late, friend.” Anna wriggled around and raised her booted foot to connect with his shin. “I haven’t the time to go off on a journey.”

  “None of that.” He shifted aside, grunting as her toe glanced off the soft leather of his shoe.

  He should have known she’d make this difficult. But while she might be able to maintain her single-minded devotion to her work, Swen felt no such compulsion. He tightened his hands about Anna’s ribs
and swung her up over his shoulder in a flurry of skirts and hair.

  Ignoring the muffled shrieks emanating from the wriggling bundle, Swen shifted Anna to balance atop his shoulders and set off, whistling as he carried her away willy-nilly for an adventure.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Put me down!” Anna shrieked. She couldn’t believe how easily he’d swung her far-from-dainty body up onto his shoulder. She felt secure enough for the moment, though she couldn’t see a thing through the mass of hair and fabric wrapped about her like a shroud.

  Her head hung about level with his waist, from what she could tell. Giggling, she dug her fingers into his sides to hold on—no easy feat considering the taut muscles beneath her hands. If he didn’t release her at once, she could always try to tickle him into submission.

  “You’d better hold still,” he warned her. “We have a bit of climbing to do on this adventure.”

  She could feel how he reached and pulled with his free hand to heft her up the ladder into the loft above her workshop. “Swen, why are we up here?”

  Why had she asked him that? she berated herself. Did she truly want to know?

  Yes, she told herself, despite the heated thoughts taking form in her mind.

  Those thoughts could only be the result of hanging upside down—too much blood to her brain. They couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the feel of Swen beneath her hands, or the warmth rising up from his brawny form to envelop her in his scent.

  She didn’t really want him to sweep her off her feet and carry her off to her chamber!

  Swen paused at the top of the stairs, then turned to the left—not the right, where her bed was. She couldn’t decide if the sensation that rippled through her middle was disappointment or relief.

  Perhaps ’twas simply the effect of Swen’s muscular shoulder pressed into her belly.

  She heard a sound—a bench being pushed across the rough plank floor?—before Swen stepped up onto the object. Yes, ’twas the bench; she had a good view of it until he shifted her into his arms.