Maybe she should have made her vows as her uncle wanted her to. But she would have been paying lip-service to them. She had no real vocation. She desired a home, children and a husband who wanted her for herself and not for the property she’d bring. It would have been a lie to take those vows.
Haakon said nothing in reply as his fingers traced the outlines of the carved wooden pillar. It was as if they were caught in a contest, a battle of wills. Each was waiting for the other to speak. To lose. She was more aware than ever of his form, his strength.
‘Annis! Annis, where have you got to? The barley has to be finished! Annis!’ Tove’s shrill voice sounded, breaking the spell. ‘Annis! You will be punished.’
‘I need to get back to my work. Tove calls.’ Annis lifted her chin and stared directly into his eyes. ‘Something I will try to do much more cheerfully from now on.’
‘Does Guthrun know that you are grinding, doing menial tasks?’ His eyes burned into her soul.
‘Tove rules the kitchen.’ Annis gave a careful shrug. She had to be fair. She had not seen the woman since she started working in the kitchen. She had no idea if Guthrun knew what Tove was doing or not. But she was not one to bear tales. ‘I do what is asked of me.’
His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, turning her hand over. ‘You are unaccustomed to such work. Your palm is heavily blistered.’
Annis snatched her hand away. His touch sent strange tingles up her arm. ‘I am not used to being a captive either. The monks suffer far worse.’
Haakon’s eyes hardened to blazing blue points, but he made no attempt to recapture her hands.
‘The monks understand hard labour. Not one of them was born into the nobility. You are a lady. It is different.’ He rubbed his thumb across his lips. ‘Ingrid tells me that you can make ointment to soften hands, to heal blisters.’
‘I know of one,’ Annis replied carefully. Exactly what had Ingrid told him?
‘Then make it.’
‘I do not have the necessary herbs.’
‘Are they exotic? Or don’t you know what is required?’ His voice held no warmth.
Annis paused. She had to be careful. She had no wish to sound overly proud, and what if the ointment did not work? But to be given the chance! Anything was better than grinding barley. Quickly Annis listed the herbs she required, counting each one off on her fingertips and ending with lavender.
He nodded and his eyes took on a speculative but impressed expression. Annis struggled to contain her growing hope. Would he give her permission to try?
‘Intriguing.’ He wiped his hands against his trousers. ‘Return to your work.’
‘But…but…you will speak to Guthrun. About the ointment. It would take but a little time.’
‘Back to work, Annis. Do your appointed tasks.’
‘Is that an order?’ Annis asked, dismayed. She had been so certain.
His face became stern. ‘Do not try my patience any further.’
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