Sons of Blackbird Mountain (Blackbird Mountain #1)

She wandered farther in. “No hitting. No screaming. I’ll even promise not to blush.”

He led them farther out until the water was up to her shoulders. Ripples broke against his chest. Thick mud oozed beneath her feet. Aven cringed, but then Haakon took her wrist and slid her arm across his shoulders. His skin was slick, and even as she blushed, he gripped her waist. She wedged her face near his shoulder so he wouldn’t see the color that had to be blooming in her cheeks.

“Ready?” His voice was suddenly very near.

When she nodded, he pushed off, tugging her gently with him. All at once there was nothing but water all around. Panic rattled her, and she floundered.

“You’re fine, I’ve got you.” He held her against his side. “Just hold on—”

Her elbow bumped his chest, and he grunted but didn’t lose his hold. With her free arm, she did as he had directed. ’Twas surely more hindrance than help. Still holding fast to her waist, he used his other arm to pull them through the water with strong strokes. His grip tightened as the water turned colder and murkier.

“It’ll . . . help if you . . . kick,” he panted.

She did, feeling like a falling fish. When they reached the little pool, he pushed her in front of him and Aven grabbed a handful of reeds, tugging herself into the shallow area. She slipped from the cold murkiness into sun-warmed water that was clearer and almost sandy. He pulled himself in behind her. She glanced back. Jorgan was still on the dock. Thor was nowhere to be seen.

“Was that so bad?” Haakon’s eyes were smiling, lashes dark and wet. “You’re breaking a promise. All you have to do is hit me and scream next.”

Aven pressed both hands to her cheeks to cool them. “You’re impossible.”

Never had a man moved with more ease as he settled beside her. “This is nice, isn’t it? You can sink down some if you want to. Just get comfortable with the water. Do you know how to hold your breath under the surface?”

“I’m afraid not.”

He took a deep inhale, then dunked under. Bubbles rose until he came back up, swiping his face.

Aven stepped back. “I think I’d prefer not to do that.”

“You’re gonna have to.”

“I don’t know that I want to learn how to swim anymore.”

“We’ve come too far for that kind of talk. Come on, I’ll show you.” He tugged her lower in the water, and while her knees bent, nothing else moved. “Aven, you’re stiff as a dead duck. Try to relax.” He shook her gently. “And you’re gonna have to get your hair wet, but . . .” Haakon twirled a hand above her head as if to mimic the tie-up she had fashioned. “You’re losin’ somethin’.”

“Oh.” Aven touched her hair to feel the strip of cloth falling loose.

“You might want to hold on to it.” He tapped his chest. “Maybe in that pocket.”

It didn’t feel proper to take her hair down, but he assured her it was common for swimming. Not wanting to lose the ribbon, she reached up, tugged it free, and pressed it into the damp pocket of Thor’s shirt. Using both hands, she shook the bundle of her hair loose. The ends hit the water and dampened.

Like the ebbing rays of a sunset, Haakon’s humor faded, his focus direct and quieted. Gone was the child in him, and in that place was a man. One a few months older than herself. Though youthful freckles lay scattered across his nose, she suddenly felt shadowed by him. A quick glimpse reminded her that his jaw was strong and square, and it took much effort to ignore the braw shape of his chest and shoulders.

Aven cleared her throat the same moment she realized that his hand was still at her waist. “Haakon?”

“Yes?”

“What are we to do now?”

“I—I . . .” He blinked quickly as if to come back from a faraway place. “I want you to practice going underwater. It’ll be handy to know how. Help you . . . uh . . . learn not to panic.” He seemed to be struggling for direction himself. “Pinch your nose if you want and hold your breath. Hold it for a few seconds, then come back up. I’ll go with you. Ready?” After a slow count to three, he heaved in a breath and vanished under the surface.

Aven watched him flounder under the water.

Finally he popped back up, dripping and insolent. “Aven! What are you doing?” He swiped water from his face.

“I wasn’t ready.” A terrible student she was. ’Twas best that Thor was spared. “Perhaps if we go slower.” She rubbed balmy water up her arms, then moved her feet to get used to the feel of the grit beneath. Rarely had she waded into a creek, let alone swam in a pond. There wasn’t much water play at the Limerick Workhouse, save for rain puddles for the orphans and a birdbath near the laundry quarters for feathered visitors. Never in her adult life, until her wedding day to Benn, had she been outside its walls.

But this wasn’t Benn. This was Haakon. And he looked like summer and a heady dose of freedom. A kind unlike she’d ever known.

Haakon nudged himself around her. Water swirled between them when he stopped. He mentioned trying a different approach. “You alright?”

“Oh, yes.” She touched her temple.

Jorgan called out, “Haakon, we gotta go.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “Thor’s not doin’ so well.”

Aven looked around for Thor, but the effort was halted when Haakon took hold of her waist again, coaxing her toward the reeds and the dock just beyond. “Can I ask you a question of a personal nature?” He parted the thick grasses and she followed him. “Do you think you’ll ever marry someone again?”

Though his inquiry struck the deepest longings of her heart, she tried to keep her answer light. “I’d like to think so.”

Circling his arm around her, he pulled them nearer to the cool pond. Her arm looped around his neck. “If you ever do . . . ,” he began softly. Those stunning blue eyes locked with her own as he eased them into deeper water. “Do you think it could be me?”

“Haakon!” Her flounder nearly sank them both.

Sputtering, he tugged her higher above the surface and gave her a reproachful look. But her cry had already echoed across the pond.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she whispered. Kicking her feet only seemed to mar his rhythm.

Needing to distance herself from him, Aven’s arms moved of their own accord, but she was as buoyant as a stone until he braced her against his side again. Nerves rising, she kicked wrong, paddled wrong, and even seemed to be breathing wrong.

Alarm twisted inside her. “I feel I’m going under.”

His fingers dug to grip her shirt as if he worried the same. To her relief, though, his voice was calm. “We’ll be there in just a moment. You’re gonna have to trust me. Please calm down.”

She did as he asked, and he worked them through the water, slow and steady.

Water sloshed as they neared the dock. She reached out to grab a piece of the under framing. Haakon moved her closer against it, beseeching her to look at him. At the sound of her name and the way he spoke it, Aven faced him. His arm rose above her head, hand gripping a board to hold them in place. Without warning he pressed his mouth to hers. Warm and quick and tender.

Her breath caught. Though having hungered to be kissed for years, she’d set such fancies aside for sheer need to survive from day to day. She’d given no heed to the void, doing all she could to ignore the ache of loneliness until this moment when Haakon’s tenderness sang through her. So near was he, so gentle and real, that she indulged in the tiniest taste—kissing him back for the briefest, most sweetest of seconds.

The sound of satisfaction rose from his throat, breaking her from her trance.

What was she doing? Pushing him away sent her slipping beneath the surface without his hold. Water rushed overhead, murky and cold. He grabbed her and pulled her back up. She gasped and coughed and with his help managed to grip the dock. With the back of a shaking hand, she swiped across her mouth.

Ripples lapped against his chest as he leaned to kiss her again.

Joanne Bischof's books