Free Web NovelChapter 211: Chapter 211
Ragnar had only shown her the lake once, and yet now, as she wove her way through the tall canopies of trees and thick curtains of shrubbery toward that ethereal place he had brought her to weeks ago, she relied on memory alone.
The trek seemed longer than she remembered. Every bend in the narrow path felt unfamiliar, every pocket of greenery looked like one she had already passed. Still, she pressed forward, taking mental note of each turn she made, just in case she needed to retrace her steps and find her way back.
After what felt like an eternity of almost aimless wandering, a string of doubt wound itself around her thoughts. Perhaps she had taken a wrong turn. Perhaps she had missed some subtle landmark, some crooked stone or fallen logs she was meant to recognize from before. If that was the case, she would have to turn around before she lost herself deeper in a part of the wood she did not know.
But just as the first threads of panic began to take root, a faint noise drifted toward her. The sound of splashing water carried gently by the breeze. It came from straight ahead.
She walked instinctively in that direction. The closer she moved, the louder the sound became, until at last she pushed past a dense cluster of trees.
The dense foliage opened to reveal a rippling azure pool, framed by tall evergreens standing like sentinels in the waning afternoon light. Sunlight broke through the canopy in golden shafts, casting a warm glow across the water, which mirrored the pale sky and the dark silhouettes of the pines.
Moss and smooth stones lined the riverbank, and the lake moved with a steady, serene calm, so at odds with the turmoil churning inside her.
There, at the center of the pool, a lone figure glided beneath the surface. Ragnar.
When he rose for air, the water broke around him in a loud splash. Strands of his wet hair clung to his face and neck in heavy dark tendrils, droplets rolling slowly down the hard lines of his chest and shoulders. His large body cut through the water with an effortless grace, a kind of fluid elegance she had never seen on anyone before.
He wore nothing but his breeches, which now clung obscenely tight to his thighs.
Circe’s mouth went dry. She didn’t breathe. She pressed one palm against the rough bark of a nearby tree to steady herself, though she made no attempt to hide that she was staring at him.
She wasn’t sure how many times she had seen him undressed now—more than she ever expected to—and yet she still could not grow accustomed to it. The stark, beautiful lines of his body looked like they were carved from marble and it always seemed to steal the air from her lungs.
She feared it would never be enough. No matter how many times she saw him like this, no matter how many times her hands had traced the solid heat of his skin, it would never be enough to quiet the hunger he had awakened in her.
He stopped mid-stroke when he noticed her. Despite how quietly she had approached, his eyes found her instantly. His expression brightened in a way that stripped years off his face, a wide and unapologetically pleased smile breaking across it. Then he lifted a hand from the water and beckoned her forward.
Circe’s eyes widened at the absurdity of the gesture. She shook her head firmly in refusal.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t swim. She could. But the thought of approaching the water stirred something cold and tight in her chest. The last time she had been near a body of water, she had been attacked. Forced under and nearly drowned.
Her throat squeezed painfully around the memory.
She shouldn’t have come here. She should have turned back the moment she felt lost. She should leave now, return to the manor, and wait for him there.
But Ragnar was here. And he made everything feel different.
But there was something about Ragnar being there with her, a kind of security she felt only in his presence that made hard situations feel less daunting somehow. There was something about him that blunted the edges of her fear.
It made her feel as though she could step straight into the lake’s depths and trust that nothing would happen to her... because he would never let harm reach her again.
"Come now," Ragnar called, voice warm and coaxing. "The water is perfect. Join me."
He still hadn’t resumed swimming. He simply stood there, partially submerged, watching her with that patient, encouraging look of his, as though he had all the time in the world to wait for her.
And gods help her, it was working.
Her first steps toward him were small and uncertain, the hesitant movements of a creature ready to flee at the slightest provocation. Her gaze stayed locked on his, on the soft expression in his eyes as he watched her approach, on the gentle curve of his smile that somehow unraveled her resolve thread by thread. freewebnøvel.com
Then, with a low chuckle, Ragnar dipped beneath the surface again and vanished in a sweep of bubbles.
The late-morning sun shimmered across the lake, scattering flecks of gold and silver with every ripple. A faint chill lingered stubbornly in the air, carrying with it the scents of sun-warmed grass, and wet earth.
Circe stood at the water’s edge, arms folded loosely across her chest, staring at the spot where Ragnar had disappeared. A splash broke the stillness, and a heartbeat later he resurfaced, shaking his head like an overgrown wolf, sending droplets arcing through the air.
His hair plastered itself against his cheeks, and he flashed her a dazzling smile, one that immediately made her suspicious.
"Come in," he urged again, swimming closer to the bank.
Circe glanced down at the daydress she wore. By design, it was simpler and lighter than the gown she had worn to Lady Maelis’s ball but that did not mean she was about to leap into the water while wearing it. Not with him watching her so intently.
She took a single step back. "No."
He noticed her hesitation immediately
"Take off your dress and leave it over there so you can put it back on afterward," he said, pointing toward a soft patch of grass a few paces away.
She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. "Is this a ploy to get me out of my clothes?"
"Yes." A slow, wicked glint lit up his eyes, smug, and far too pleased with himself.
He wasn’t even attempting to deny it. It was so absurd she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes and smile at the same time.
The admission was ridiculous, and also entirely like him. But it had the intended effect. The tension that had wound tight in her shoulders loosened, and an unwilling smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Circe," he murmured.
His voice dropped to that low, velvety timbre that always made her stomach swoop, the same tone he used when whispering her name against her skin, offering her the most earth-shattering pleasure. Heat crept up her neck despite her best efforts to keep her expression stern.
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