I stared at Gunnar, at his jaw working up and down, at the pounding pulse in his neck, at the rigidness of his shoulders. What was he saying? “You want me to marry Frans?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t understand. How could Gunnar kiss me so passionately one moment and in the next toss me into another man’s arms? “You told me Frans will never make me happy.”
“I was wrong.”
“You said he was too serious and steady for me.”
“You need someone serious and steady.”
Unlike him? Was that really what Gunnar was hinting at? That he’d given me the wrong impression with our kiss? That just because we’d shared a moment of intimacy didn’t mean I should start dreaming of a future with him?
My heart sank with a sickening thud. What had our kiss really meant? Maybe he’d seen me as nothing more than a challenge, another conquest, the same way I had been last time. And now that he’d made me like him—and gotten his kiss—he was ready to abandon me for the next maiden.
A gust of cold wind blew through me, putting out the sparks that had reignited for Gunnar. I fisted my hands on my hips and faced him squarely. “You have no need for me now that I’ve given you the affection you seek?”
He dropped his head and his shoulders. “No, Mikaela, it’s not like that.”
“If you weren’t using me again, then what were you doing?”
“I wasn’t using you.” His voice contained a note of desperation, one I wanted to believe. Even so, he was cutting me out of his life again. I didn’t understand it, but I wouldn’t allow him to do it to me first.
“I’ve changed my mind. I have no wish to hear your excuses. Please just begone and do not seek me out again.” Without waiting for him to speak, I started toward the arbor where the girls were still playing hide-and-seek. From their laughter and smiles as they chased each other, they were oblivious to the way Gunnar had broken and stomped on my heart for the second time.
Hot tears burned the backs of my eyes, but I angrily blinked them away. I wouldn’t cry now, not anywhere near him where he could see my sorrow.
“I will give you and Frans the money,” he called after me.
More tears threatened to spill over.
“I shall bring it to you tonight.”
I didn’t halt. “Leave it with Nanna.”
He didn’t say anything more. And later, when I glanced toward the shed, he was gone.
Late that eve when Gunnar came to the nursery to tell Riki and Rena a bedtime story, I hurried into the adjacent chamber designated for the girls’ play area. I pretended to organize and clean, but all the while I fought back the despair that had been plaguing me since his rejection in the garden.
After he was gone and the girls were asleep, I returned to the bedchamber. Nanna wearily stood from her chair beside the hearth and held out a leather pouch. “Gunnar left this for you.” Her eyes held a hundred questions that I didn’t want to answer.
I gave her the only response I could. “He’s giving Frans and me the money we need for the bride price.”
“I see.”
I took it, feeling the weight as if it were a heavy sack of barley instead of a fistful of coins. I’d yet to seek out Frans and explain what he’d seen earlier in the garden. And I needed to do so soon. Frans would forgive my mistake. He was a good man and would put it behind him, moving forward as though nothing had happened.
But how could I move forward? Frans deserved a better woman, one who loved him totally and completely, not someone like me who harbored affection for another man—even if unwillingly. I didn’t want to have feelings for Gunnar. Had tried not to for many years. But the truth had become all too clear with his return—I wouldn’t be able to stop caring about him. Not now. Not for a long time. Maybe not ever.
Nanna’s kind gaze rested upon me. “’Tis for the best to marry Frans, Mikaela-girl.”
I couldn’t shed the acute sadness I’d been battling all day. If only Gunnar hadn’t strolled back into my life with such power and appeal. If only I’d guarded my heart more carefully from falling for him.
Perhaps the best option was to remain single and avoid both men. With a sigh, I held the pouch out to Nanna. “I can’t take it.”
She crossed her arms. “You must.”
“If you don’t give it back to Gunnar, then I will.”
Nanna’s thin face contained a haggardness I hadn’t noticed there before—dark circles under her eyes, more lines in her forehead. “If you think by waiting, you’ll have any hope of Gunnar marrying you, you’ll be very disappointed.”
Had my feelings for Gunnar been that obvious to Nanna? “I’m not waiting for Gunnar. He made it clear today I am nothing to him.” Nothing more than another woman to woo.
“Good.”
“Good?” My chest squeezed at Nanna’s easy dismissal of my feelings.
“He’s dangerous for you, Mikaela. And ’tis best to sever all ties now before rumors spread about his affection for you.”
“If rumors spread, they’ll be full of pity, since I’ve once again fallen for his charm when he had no thought to cherishing my affection in return.”
“And that’s for the best.”
“My humiliation?”
“Yes. As hard as it is in the short term, ’tis what will protect you.”
“Protect me?”
“The safest course is for you to marry Frans.”
This conversation was growing stranger by the moment. “What does my safety have to do with this?”
Nanna pressed her lips together as though she had nothing more to say.
Was someone out to harm me? And if so, why? “’Tis clear you’re worried about me. If you wish for me to marry Frans for my safety, then you must speak truthfully with me.”
Nanna remained silent.
In the big bed, one of the girls released a soft snore. The firelight on the hearth was dying. And ’twas time for Nanna and me to roll out our pallets and sleep. Mornings always came too early.
As late as the hour was growing, I doubted I’d be able to slumber, not with how much was on my mind. Nevertheless, I placed the pouch on Nanna’s chair and stepped back. “I cannot take it. I implore you to please return it to him on the morrow.”
I started toward the chest in the corner where we kept our few belongings, including our pallets and blankets.
“The danger is from the earl.” Nanna’s low response halted me mid-room.
For several seconds all I could picture was Lola, standing at the cliff’s edge, the stone tied to her feet, her eyes flashing with defiance. Visions of the woman had haunted my dreams this past week. The peril from the earl was real and ’twas no phantom. But what did marrying Frans have to do with saving me from such danger?
Nanna cocked her head at the bed, then began to walk toward the connecting chamber. I trailed after her. Enough light from the bedchamber cascaded through the doorway so that I could see Nanna standing in the far corner, away from doors and anyone who could hear us.
She drew me close, and even then when she spoke, her voice was a mere whisper. “You are the earl’s property, and he won’t give you away to Gunnar.”