Not conventional in any sense was an understatement, given her situation, but with each passing day, and especially after she’d been with him, she realized she felt something for this man. The old woman had mentioned something about Stian having a troubled life, but she’d been gone before Agata could ask what that meant.
Going back to her home in America, another dimension—as it seemed was the reality—wasn’t even that appealing after she started allowing herself to really be in this life. Here she was, picking berries in this strange world, with a man who saw her as a wife, and she wasn’t even jumping at the option to leave anymore, or at least not as strongly.
She asked herself over and over again since seeing that old woman why she didn’t want to return home, or why she did. There were more pros of staying than leaving, and that scared the shit out of her. Was her life so dull, so lonely and sad, that she’d rather stay here?
Looking at Stian as he cut wood, she could picture the fierceness in his body and expression, in the way he’d taken her like he owned her, like there was no other for him. That was a heady sensation, an intoxicating emotion to someone who had never felt an ounce of real love her entire life.
He didn’t chain her up, didn’t make her feel like his prisoner any longer.
She stood, grabbed the small basket that held the berries, and moved over to him. He dropped the ax on the ground, gathered the pieces of wood he chopped, and headed into the hut. She stood there, holding that basket, and felt the weight of that damn satchel.
It was her lifeline home; she knew that, but she was hesitant. When he returned, he held a net and a spear and spoke in his language.
“We fish.”
She understood him through his thick accent and nodded. “Okay.” Setting the basket down, she followed him through the trees, deeper into the woods, and away from the hut until the sea came into view. He led her down the steep decline until they were on the sandy yet very rocky beach.
She sat on one of the rocks and watched as he removed his coat and boots and stepped into the shallow end of the water.
He was still for several minutes, but she saw his gaze moving back and forth along the water. Then he jabbed his spear into the water so fast she didn’t even have time to blink. He lifted the spear out of the water and held it up, showing the squirming fish on the other end.
Tearing off the fish and tossing it to the shore, he went back and did this same action over and over again. The fish were piling up, but he didn’t stop.
For at least an hour, she sat there watching him, mesmerized by the fact that this man was fluid and swift in his motions. He caught fish right off the shore with nothing but that spear. Once there seemed to be enough fish, he got out of the water and tossed them into the homemade net. He rinsed off his hands and put his boots and coat back on.
“Come, wife.” He smiled at her, and the act seemed so foreign on such a big, strong, and ruthless man like Stian. He led them over to the side, around large outcroppings, and stopped. “In here, Agata,” he said and looked over his shoulder at her.
She looked at where he was talking about and shook her head. He had his spear and net full of fish set off to the side now, and it was clear he wanted to take her into this creepy-as-hell cave where the light didn’t even penetrate the darkness.
The small cave was nearly invisible, as two large, protruding outcroppings concealed it, but she saw it well enough. He pushed away a thick, thorny-looking bush and gestured for her to come forward.
Looking at Stian, then back at the cave, she gave him a “no fucking way” look and shook her head once more. She tried to form the right words in her head before she spoke in his language, but the words failed her and she didn’t bother.
“No, I can’t go in there, Stian,” she said in English, but he was picking up on her language quickly too.
It took him a moment to respond, and she wondered f he was trying to form the right words before he spoke in English. “Agata, wife, trust me.” He purposefully used smaller words, spoke slowly so she could understand, but still, she didn’t know what he could possibly want to show her in there.
Did she trust him? As weird and fucked-up as it may seem, she did, with her life in fact. He saved her twice, mended her once, and gone after her to take out men who hated him. She still didn’t know why he lived a horrible life, and maybe she never would, but that clearly had something to do with why the villagers hated him so much.