7
Wulfgar brushed by me and crouched near the hearth to feed more logs to the blaze. He kept his back towards me, his broad shoulders tense as if waiting for a blow.
When he rose, dusting off his hands, I ventured to ask, “Are you leaving me?”
“No. You are not to be left alone again.”
“You can trust me.”
He didn’t answer, but grabbed a hunk of bread and a jug of mead, and started to leave. “Good night. If you need me, I’ll be on the porch.”
“Please come to bed,” I begged. “Please, hold me.”
“No, little one. I dare not.”
“Is this because of what I’ve done?”
“No.” He sounded defeated.
“Is it because…you’re afraid you would hurt me?” No answer. “It’s true, then, what Siebold said? You killed the last woman to share your bed.”
“This is not something I wish to discuss with you.”
“Pl
