He raked his fingers through his overlong hair, lifting it off his forehead and combing it back. I’d watched him do so many times in the past, and now as then, it made me want to comb my fingers there for myself. I’d never done so. But I’d certainly dreamed about it. I had no doubt his hair would flow through my fingers like fine silk.
He started to drop his hand, but then dragged it through his hair again, this time more slowly. “Condition number one?”
As I tore my gaze from his hair, his smug smile told me he’d noticed my reaction to his combing. It was the kind of smile that only made him look more roguish and appealing.
Heavens above. Already I was crossing the bounds of friendship. I shook my head. This wasn’t going to work.
Before I could protest, he laughed lightly. “Friendship, Mikaela. That’s all.”
“Do you vow it?”
“Yes. And I accept your two conditions.”
“You don’t know them yet.”
“I covet your friendship enough to do whatever you wish.”
A thrill whispered through me, one I needed to silence. Friendship didn’t involve thrills blowing through me, not even in small increments, especially not when I needed to make myself fall in love with Frans. “Very well. Condition number one: do not cross the line.” I sliced the air between us.
Gunnar studied the space as though examining a real line. “Am I allowed to do this?” He poked a finger through the boundary.
I swatted his hand. “No.”
“This?” He shifted his boot under the imaginary boundary.
“Absolutely not.” I couldn’t contain a smile even as I toed his foot.
“Then I suppose you won’t accept this either.” He leaned closer, his shoulder dipping toward me.
I folded my arms and took a step away to keep from shoving him. I’d just informed him we couldn’t touch. Maybe not in those exact words. But that’s what not crossing the line meant. We had to keep our hands to ourselves.
He folded his arms, imitating me. “Condition number two?”
“If you’re already testing condition number one, is there any hope you’ll follow a second one?”
He shrugged and offered me a disarming smile, one that would have power to make a judge pardon any crime.
Nonetheless, I pressed on. “Condition number two: promise to tell your nieces a bedtime story every night while you’re here.”
Gunnar was a natural-born storyteller. When we were children, I’d loved listening to him invent tales. He had a way of embellishing the things that happened to him, making everything seem funnier and more absurd than it really was. After watching Riki and Rena come to life the other morn, I wanted them to have more time with their uncle. And they’d been asking about whether Gunnar would visit them again.
“A bedtime story? Every night?”
“You’re right. What am I thinking? Such a feat would be much too strenuous for you.” I loved taunting him.
From a new smile tugging at his lips, I guessed he loved my taunting too. “I may be rusty, but I think I can manage.”
“You obviously won their hearts, though I don’t know how.” I did know how. It was the same way he won every female’s heart everywhere he went. He was charming and sweet and funny.
“I’m glad I’ve won their hearts. If only I could as easily win yours.” The playfulness of his tone and the twinkling in his eyes warned me not to take his words too seriously. Even so, I was half-tempted to tell him he had easily won my heart the last time he’d been home. And from the runaway tempo in my chest at the moment, he seemed to be winning my heart again.
I had to go. I started to tuck the remains of the piece of bread into my pocket.
“No.” Gunnar’s protest came out a growl. “Eat it now so that I can make sure you don’t give it away to someone else.”
I planned to offer it to Nanna, although I was certain she’d suggest saving it for the family. I lifted my chin and slid it the rest of the way into my pocket.
“Very well.” Gunnar grabbed another piece of bread from the platter and handed it to me. “Then eat this.”
My stomach gurgled with need, and I couldn’t resist eating the slice while Gunnar wrapped the rest of the food on the platter into a towel.
He pressed it into my arms, and the stern set of his jaw warned me not to reject his offering. “I’ll see you tonight for your story time.”
“It’s not for me. . . .”
He was already out the door and striding down the passageway without looking back. All I could do was stare after him. One week. Maybe two. And he’d walk out of my life again. I couldn’t forget that.
Chapter
8
Mikaela
For the first time in weeks, my stomach wasn’t gnawing with hunger. Gunnar’s provisions earlier in the day had filled me up, and I’d had more energy throughout the afternoon and eve as a result.
Sitting on the bedframe, I bent and placed a goodnight kiss on little Rena’s forehead then leaned over and kissed Riki before folding the coverlet around them more snuggly.
“When will Uncle Gunnar be here?” Rena peered at me with sad eyes.
I glanced to the chamber door again, wishing now I hadn’t told the girls Gunnar was coming to see them and give them a story. But after his gift of food that I’d shared with Nanna, I’d expected him to keep his word. He’d been so kind and concerned and generous that we’d even had enough to save for Kirstin to take back to the family on the morrow.
Nanna hadn’t been as happy to receive the food as I’d expected. And when she’d learned Gunnar planned to come to the nursery to say goodnight to Riki and Rena, she’d shaken her head and told me it was a bad idea.
Now she sat quietly in a chair by the hearth, her eyes closed. I’d explained she didn’t need to stay, that she could go to bed as she usually did while I finished the evening routine with the two girls. But she’d insisted on being present in the room when Gunnar was there.
“I can tell you a tale.” I brushed back the pale strands of Rena’s hair.
“We’ve heard all your stories already.” Riki stuck out her lip petulantly. At six, she was developing a stubbornness that I prayed I could yet curb.
“Then perhaps you can tell one to me tonight?”
Riki hesitated, but before she could give me an answer, the door swung open, and Gunnar stepped in, brightening the room immediately with his confidence and charm. His grin, his swagger, and his debonair garments only added to his attractiveness.
As Riki and Rena sat up, they watched him with an awe and excitement that reflected mine.
“How are all my favorite girls?” Gunnar’s gaze landed upon the two in bed first before hopping to me then Nanna, who was now sitting forward, eyes open and smiling at the boy she’d raised.
Gunnar strode directly to Nanna, holding something behind his back. “I have something for you.”
She sat forward. “I don’t need anything but your sweet presence, Gunnar-boy.”
He removed one hand and held out a small bowl filled to the brim with rich custard and drizzled with a purple sauce.
I gasped at the beauty of the sight.