Chapter Ten #2
If there was any hope of saving her marriage, he might know what to do. Or possibly he could find out.
You only want to see him again, her mind taunted.
No. He was a friend. But even as she continued toward the longhouse, she sensed that she would not like the answers he would give.
Ragnar had spent all afternoon with the hammer, pounding at the beams as the shelter took form. He was grateful for the physical activity, hoping it would exhaust him until he didn’t dream of Elena anymore. But she returned to the dwelling a few hours later, and he couldn’t guess why.
“May I join you?” she asked, coming to sit near him.
He didn’t answer but kept pounding the hammer. His mood was growing even darker, and he knew the reason. The woman he loved was married to a man who didn’t want her anymore. Styr was only staying for the sake of the baby that Ragnar was more and more convinced didn’t exist.
“Do you want a drink of water?” She poured some into a cup, moving closer. He didn’t know what her reason was for coming here, but the last thing he wanted was for her to start taking care of him.
When he ignored her, she came closer with the drink, waiting. But when she lifted it toward him, he tossed the hammer aside and pushed the drink away. “Stay away from me, Elena.”
Go back to Styr. Go back to your husband and leave me alone.
Her face went white, and she looked so stricken. He realized she had no idea why he was angry. She honestly didn’t know the way she tempted him and got under his skin.
“I’m sorry. I’m in no mood to see anyone just now.” He calmed his anger and tried to push away the frustration.
“I came to ask for your help,” she said quietly. “But if it’s not a good time, I’ll go.”
He doubted if it would ever be a good time. The longer he stayed near her, the more he wanted her. Ragnar rested his palms upon the wall for a moment, taking the time to regain control of his anger. She wanted his help, did she?
He turned to face her, walking closer while he waited for her to speak. “What is it?”
“It’s Styr,” she admitted. “Ever since he came back, I don’t know what I can do to please him.”
The flush on her face spoke of sharing a bed with her husband. Was she truly asking him what would please a man? No. He couldn’t even begin to talk about that. “We are not having this conversation.”
Her face turned scarlet. “No, I didn’t mean...that. We haven’t—not since the baby.”
Relief crashed through him, though he knew it was wrong. Ever since he’d had his own moments with Elena, the idea of Styr touching her was enough to provoke him into violence. He was jealous in a way he couldn’t name and believing that Styr had claimed her body was a torment in itself.
“He won’t even talk to me,” Elena continued. “He’s so distant, I don’t know what to do.”
“Why do you stay married to him?” Ragnar demanded. “If you have no feelings for one another and you don’t talk, what reason is there?”
“He’s been good to me,” she said. “And there’s the baby.”
“You’re not pregnant, Elena.” He couldn’t stop himself from saying the words he believed. It had been too long, and it was the only strand holding Styr and her together.
Elena’s hands moved to her womb, and she stood up. “Yes, I am. It’s been months now. I must be.”
The worry in her voice held enough fear that he wished he didn’t have to say this to her. “I’ve had sisters who have had children. If you were truly with child, you would be much bigger by now.” He returned to his hammer, adding, “Go and speak with the midwife. She’ll tell you.”
It was a cruel thing to cut down her dreams and he knew it. But if he was right, better for her to learn it now, rather than later.
When he turned back to Elena, her eyes were filled with tears. The visible heartbreak made him feel as if he’d just cut her off at the knees. But he couldn’t take back the words.
She hugged her waist, meeting his gaze. “If there’s no baby—”
“Then you have no reason to remain married to him. Let him go, Elena. You’ll be happier for it.” She looked as if he’d just knocked her down with the words, and he hated seeing the pain on her face.
But Styr was in love with someone else, enough that he was grieving for the loss. Elena had no hope of winning him back. Not now.
“Come here,” Ragnar commanded, drawing her into an embrace. He pulled her close, not even caring who saw them.
She started crying and admitted, “I’ve already lost him, haven’t I?”
“You haven’t lost me,” he said. Nor would she, even after all this. He refused to feel guilty about offering her comfort. Her tears dampened his tunic, but he didn’t care at all.
When she finally left, he suspected that she would indeed seek out the midwife. And regardless of the answer, it wouldn’t change the fact that she was still in love with Styr.
She hadn’t gone to see the midwife. There had been no need.
After she’d begun bleeding that afternoon, Elena knew that Ragnar was right.
There was no child and never had been. The realization had drowned her in sorrow, and she’d remained in bed the rest of the day, staring at the wall.
Styr had found her there, and the interior of their house was dark, the fire burned down to only coals.
Though she’d cleaned up her earlier mess, she hadn’t bothered to prepare anything for an evening meal. When Styr walked inside, he paused a moment and stared at her, seeming to sense that something was terribly wrong.
“What is it?” he asked.
Elena shook her head, pulling back the coverlet upon their bed. “The baby.”
The baby that had never existed. Even speaking the words made her grieve. It had broken away a piece of her heart to think that her greatest dream had never come to pass. She was still barren and might always be.
Styr was staring at her with such fear, she forced herself to tell him all of it. “I was wrong,” she admitted. “There never was a baby. I-I began bleeding today.”
The raw pain wrenched a sob from her and she couldn’t stop herself from weeping. “Sometimes a woman doesn’t have her courses if she faces peril or times of fear.”
And certainly she’d endured that. Still, she’d never before missed her menses, and she’d had every reason to believe she was with child. It made her question if she’d offended the gods or done something to deserve this barrenness.
Styr’s arms came around her, and she gripped him hard, still crying as she said, “I wanted this so much.”
“I know.” His voice was heavy, and she knew that he was truly sorry for her. He might not love her, but he did care. She clung to him, and in that moment regretted the times when she’d pushed him away. Especially the times when he’d wanted to share her bed and she’d refused him.
It was just that she’d been so caught up in the desire for a child, after a time there was no joy in being together. That was her fault, not his.
“And I haven’t been a good wife to you. Not in the way I should have.” Not only because of the moments she’d spent with Ragnar, but...everything.
“I tried to keep everything orderly,” she continued.
“But it wasn’t enough.” She now understood that he’d never cared about whether their home was clean and organized.
He’d never understood that it was her way of taking command of one aspect of her life, since she couldn’t control her ability to bear children.
It had annoyed him, though he’d never said it.
Elena stared at her husband, at his dark blond hair and the sadness in his eyes.
Styr was a good man who deserved to be happy.
She’d seen the way he’d looked at the Irishwoman—it was as if he’d lost the best part of himself.
It had hurt, knowing that he had never loved her like that, not once in all five years.
“I never cared about the house.” He rubbed her back and the gesture of comfort somehow made everything worse. She didn’t want his kindness now. Anger and frustration she could bear...but not the man who had once been gentle and tender.
“You wanted to travel across the seas,” she said. “And I never let you go.” When there was dissent over who would become the next leader of their tribe, he’d taken her away from home rather than fight against his older brother to become jarl.
She’d been afraid to travel, for she hated sailing. But she’d gone with him to éire in a last effort to make him happy. Perhaps if she’d let him follow his own dreams, sailing across the seas to distant lands, he might not have resented staying at home.
“I knew you didn’t want to travel with me,” he said. “And if I was away, you couldn’t conceive a child.” He raised his shoulders in a shrug as though it meant nothing that she’d held him back.
“That was your dream, not mine,” she said. “I should have given you my blessing, but I was too afraid to be alone.”
A sliver of fear reached down her spine, making her question her courage now. She didn’t want this life anymore. She didn’t want to live in the shadows as the wife he’d kept for reasons of honor, not love.
She wanted a man to look at her the way he had looked at Caragh.
For a moment, she pulled back to look into her husband’s eyes. Styr had remained at her side for so long, allying their families together. But he didn’t love her. He never had.
It hurt more deeply than any pain she’d known, but the truth was there, before her eyes. He hadn’t wanted to return to her. He’d been happy with the Irishwoman in a way he’d never been with her.
She needed to let him go.
Elena reached up to touch his cheek and admitted, “I still love you, Styr.” Her heart remained heavy, wishing there was a way to mend the broken years between them.
Her husband didn’t answer at first, but Elena didn’t want lies or words of reassurance.
“Don’t say it. I’ve known you too long and that isn’t what you feel for me.
Not anymore.” She couldn’t stop the tears that ran down her cheeks, knowing how much she was about to lose. Five years had been so long.
Her words hadn’t been a lie. She did love him enough to do what was necessary now. And that meant making the decision to end this marriage and set him free. A tremor resonated in her heart, for he would be so angry with her. But it was the only chance they had at happiness.
“We had some good years together,” she whispered, through a smile she didn’t feel.
“We did.” His hand came to stroke her hair, and there was a thickness to his voice. “And we’ll have more.”
No. No, it was too late for that. He was grieving, not only for the loss of a child they’d never conceived, but for Caragh—the woman who had utterly captured his heart.
Her courage faltered a moment, but Elena knew this had to be done now, before she could change her mind. It was the best course of action for both of them.
“Will you walk with me?” she asked, hoping he would not guess what she was about to do. Her nerves were unsteady, but he nodded, holding her hand.
Elena led him toward Ragnar’s house, knowing that this was where they both needed to be. Here, among friends, they would make a new beginning. She could only pray that Styr wouldn’t despise her when it was over.
Glancing at the structure of the longhouse, she could smell the fresh thatch and wood shavings. She ran her hands over the surface of the logs, knowing that Ragnar had labored for many hours.
“He’ll finish it in another few days,” Styr said.
Elena didn’t answer but opened the door, her heart pounding wildly. Inside, Ragnar was seated with their friends and kinsmen at a long table. He was dressed in a leather tunic and leggings, his rough-cut brown hair framing a strong jaw and dark green eyes.
Those same eyes fixed upon her and in them, she saw a hunger. She froze a moment, caught up by the intensity. Then a moment later, he responded to something his kinsman said, leaving Elena to wonder if she’d imagined it.
Roasted pheasant and boar were on large platters, along with pitchers of ale. The men had been telling stories and laughing, but some of their discussion died down when they saw Styr and her.
Her heartbeat was pounding so fast, her ears were ringing. She knew her husband was curious as to why she’d brought them here. He might believe it was to spend time with their friends, but she had a different purpose in mind.
You must do this, her conscience insisted.
“There is something I would ask of you,” she said quietly to their friends. She had their full attention now and Styr’s as well. He gave a slight nod and her heartbeat pounded faster. A roaring sensation filled her ears, but she continued. “I ask you to be my witnesses.”
Though she didn’t want to look into her husband’s eyes and see the anger, Elena forced herself to meet him squarely.
She raised her voice so that everyone could hear her, but her gaze remained fixed upon him.
“I have been wedded to Styr for five years now. In that time, I have been barren and it is unfair of me to bind him in this marriage.”
She released his hand, her heart crying out as she said clearly, “I divorce you, Styr Hardrata. In the presence of these witnesses.”
Thrice she spoke the words, until it was done.