Chapter Five #3
“Do you want to travel with this tribe?” Ragnar asked. “I don’t think they would mind it.”
It was a reasonable suggestion, but something held her back. The people did not speak their language, and if they continued southeast, there was another threat.
“What if we encounter the Norse raiders again?” she asked Ragnar, shuddering at the thought. “We might not defeat them a second time.”
Although finding the snake had been a stroke of good fortune, her skin still crawled at the thought of its scaly warmth upon her throat.
The Norsemen had believed her promise of a curse, for the gods often took the form of a serpent when they returned to earth.
But it didn’t mean she felt safe. They would as soon slaughter them in their sleep.
“My leg has almost healed,” Ragnar said. “I won’t let any harm come to you.”
She knew he meant it, but it didn’t allay her fears. “I need to think,” she told him. “I don’t know whether to stay here and let Styr find us...or whether we should go back.” They had no ship, and it would take too long to travel on foot back to the settlement.
“If he’s alive, Styr won’t ever stop searching for you,” Ragnar said. Though his words were meant to reassure her, she sensed something more. Turning to face him, she caught a flash of longing on his face. Almost as if he never wanted Styr to find her. As if he wanted to take her husband’s place.
An unbidden vision caught her, of Ragnar claiming her as his conquest. She sensed his unspoken words: I would never stop searching for you.
A moment later, he’d shielded all emotions, making her wonder if she’d imagined it.
“What if he can’t look for me? We don’t know what’s happened.”
“No. We don’t.” He ate his own food, staring off into the darkness. She was waiting for him to offer guidance, to tell her what they should do. But he was leaving the decision in her hands.
The healer beckoned to Elena to come with her, leaving Ragnar to rest. Though she didn’t know what the woman wanted, she followed. “I’ll return soon,” she promised. Ragnar’s expression was enigmatic, but he waved his hand as if he didn’t care.
The Irish maiden who spoke a few words of her language came to bring her to their leader. She smiled, as if to put her at ease, and then nodded to the older man. “Our chief ask...you...magic?”
Elena shook her head. “I only let the raiders believe what they wanted to. I threatened to curse the men.”
The girl spoke rapidly to the chief, who inclined his head in approval. “He say...give thanks. Gift to you.”
“What kind of a gift?” She wondered if they would offer gold or a horse. Instead, the girl pointed towards a folded hide. It was large and when she led Elena to touch it, she realized that it had been treated to make it repel water. It would keep them warm and dry inside their shelter.
“For your journey,” the girl promised.
Elena thanked them in her own language, even knowing they would not understand. She accepted the heavy cloth and started to return to Ragnar, but the wind began to blow hard, whipping at her hair.
“Tonight, you share our shelter,” the girl promised. “Bad storm coming.”
The men and women began to set up an array of tents and Elena joined them, offering her help. The girl urged her to keep the heavy cloth and to use it on their travels later.
The Irish set up a tent and lined the interior with soft furs and hot stones from the fire. When it was ready, the girl invited her in. “For you and your man to share.”
Ragnar had limped over to join her, leaning on a thick staff that someone had given him. “You’d better go inside,” he told Elena, “before the rain starts.”
“This will be more comfortable than our house of sticks,” she teased, holding the flap open for him. He entered and she closed it behind him, enveloping the room in darkness. The space was not large and if she stretched out her hands, she could touch him.
“I suppose so.” Ragnar’s gaze settled upon the pile of furs on one side. It was then that she realized they would sleep beside one another. Though it shouldn’t have bothered her—after all, she’d already slept beside him when he was burning up with fever—somehow, this space seemed more intimate.
A flush of heat pressed through her and she imagined lying in this man’s arms. Hard against soft...and the image was not unwelcome.
Elena knelt down on the furs, trying to push out the dishonorable thoughts. Ragnar was a friend, that was all.
He kept his distance, and that was likely for the best. In the darkness, the hot stones warmed the air while outside the wind battered their shelter. Here, she was safe, protected from the elements. But there was nothing to protect her from the forbidden feelings rising inside.
To distract herself, she rested her hands upon her flat stomach. It seemed strange that she felt no different at all, even with a child growing within her. No illness...nothing except the absence of bleeding. Sometimes it seemed like a dream to imagine it.
Ragnar leaned upon the staff, limping toward her until he eased his way to the furs.
Elena lay down on her side and heard the rustle of him doing the same.
She froze when his leg bumped against hers.
Though she knew it was accidental, it made her all too aware that she was sleeping beside a man who was not her husband.
A man who tempted her to cast aside honor for a taste of the forbidden.
She curled up, but when she lay on the ground she felt the icy wind slipping beneath the tent.
Without meaning to, she shivered. When she adjusted her position again, she heard him let out a tense breath of air when her body bumped against his.
Elena suspected that she’d somehow pressed against his wounded leg. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”
“No.” He rolled on to his uninjured side, away from her. “You surprised me, that’s all.”
He kept far away from her, which was for the best. She huddled beneath the furs, trying to get comfortable. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly.
And she was. In the midst of all the terrifying things that had happened, having Ragnar at her side had made it bearable. She believed that he would surrender his own life for hers without a second thought. He’d been her protector and a man she could rely on.
He said nothing in reply. Perhaps he had other matters on his mind. “Are you in pain?” she asked. She waited, expecting him to answer yes or no. But again he held his silence. Which probably meant he was hurting, since no male she’d ever met would admit to feeling pain.
“Go to sleep, Elena.” His voice was gruff and she couldn’t understand why he seemed reluctant to talk. In the past, he’d always been an amiable man, friendly and easy to be with.
Not tonight.
“What have I done wrong?” she asked.
His hand caught her wrist in the darkness. “Do you know how much I envy your husband?”
The words held a dark edge and she could think of nothing to say. Though his grip wasn’t forceful, she sensed that he was on the brink of fury.
“He has a beautiful wife,” Ragnar said. “Possibly a child on the way. A family.”
The envy in his voice revealed a lonely man. One who had never had any of those things. She swallowed hard, unable to find the right words for sympathy.
“You love him, don’t you?” he said quietly.
“Yes,” she whispered. She would always be loyal to Styr. He was a strong man, a good provider. He’d done everything he could to make her happy. And now that they were going to have a child, it would all be better.
Wouldn’t it?
In the darkness, Ragnar released her wrist, and Elena huddled on her side.
She remembered the last time her husband had joined with her.
Styr had done everything he could to please her, touching her in a way he thought would give her a release.
Instead, she’d been cold inside, unable to react.
Thoughts of her childlessness had haunted her until it seemed as if a stranger were touching her.
Her marriage had been breaking apart and she’d wept in her husband’s arms. He was as frustrated as she was, and both of them were ready to give up.
Freya, how she wished she could take back the words when she’d asked him not to touch her again. Though she’d meant only for a short time, Styr’s expression had turned to frost. He’d done exactly as she’d asked, and it was as if she’d thrown up a stone wall between them.
“I don’t think Styr loves me any more,” she admitted. “I was cruel to him when I didn’t mean to be.”
“All marriages go through difficult times. He asked about you on the journey here,” he told her.
That only made her feel worse.
“And what if we don’t find him?” she murmured.
Ragnar took her hand in his. “I’ll always take care of you, Elena. No matter what happens.”
She squeezed his hand tightly, grateful for him. “We’ll journey back to Gall Tír, starting tomorrow morning.”