Chapter Fifteen
Ragnar’s days fell into a pattern, but there was a new restlessness. He’d continued to guard Elena and Matheus, but although she cooked meals for him and he slept in her home at night, he didn’t touch her. Instead, her proximity was a slow burn to his senses.
She asked nothing of him except that he stay with her. At night, she lay upon the pallet and talked to him long into the night until he longed to kiss her into silence.
He hadn’t touched her, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. The hunger and need to possess her grew stronger with each day until he was driven to fight again. Anything to release the physical demands within him.
This morning, he accompanied Elena and Matheus into the marketplace, but he was well aware of the eyes upon them. He had made many enemies, both the men he’d defeated and those who had lost wagers. Ragnar kept his hand upon his sword hilt, never taking his eyes off the unseen threat.
When Elena and the boy had finished with their purchases, he stopped on the way back to watch the fighting.
Two men circled one another, wearing light armor and wielding battle-axes.
The shorter man was faster, while the larger opponent swung his axe as if he intended to behead his challenger.
Ragnar had defeated both of them in earlier matches.
Matheus was stopping to pet a cat who was weaving in between his legs. Elena released the child’s hand and turned back to Ragnar. “Let’s go back.”
He sensed her discomfort and regarded her. “I almost have the silver I need. If you’ve changed your mind about returning to Hordafylke...”
She looked stricken at his words and shook her head. “I haven’t.” Then she guided Matheus away from the cat, leading him back.
Ragnar stood behind them, guarding the pair as they returned to the dwelling. Elena kept the boy’s hand in hers, while Ragnar kept his palm upon her spine to show that he was their protector.
When they reached the bridge, Elena stopped suddenly, glancing behind her. “Do you sense that we’re being followed?”
Ragnar shook his head, but there were so many people in the crowd, it was impossible to tell. “Even if we are, I won’t let any harm come to you.” He took a glance behind them, but nothing struck him as out of the ordinary.
“There was a man I saw in the marketplace earlier. He was watching Matheus, and I thought I saw him again just now.” She moved closer to Ragnar’s left side, still holding the child’s hand. “Stay beside me,” she bade Matheus.
With her other hand, she reached for Ragnar’s palm, but he put his arm around her shoulders instead. If they were being followed, he wanted it clear to others that she was under his protection.
He guided them back from the marketplace, past the quadrants of longhouses. The scent of peat smoke lingered in the air, and he marked the faces of the people passing by. Still, there was nothing to suggest a threat.
When they reached Elena’s dwelling, Ragnar held out his hand. “Wait here first.” Before he allowed them to enter, he searched the interior. Again, there was nothing out of place.
The boy knelt down while the puppy scampered forward, licking Matheus’s fingers. Ragnar closed the door behind them, and Elena appeared relieved to be home.
He studied her a moment while she put away the food and drink she’d purchased at the marketplace. Though her behavior was ordinary, he sensed that she was upset.
He decided to steer their conversation back towards the boy. “Matheus seems to be adapting well.”
She nodded, lowering her voice as she moved closer. “But he never looks at me. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows who I am. And he doesn’t like it if I try to hold him.”
Ragnar supposed that was due to the abuse the boy had suffered with his parents. “What else have you learned about him?”
She motioned for him to sit down. Although she told him about Matheus’s likes and dislikes, he sensed that Elena was holding back more.
“He likes to draw patterns in the dirt,” she finished. “Each night he makes a new picture for me.”
As if to illustrate her words, the boy bent down to the earthen floor and began tracing lines with a stick.
Each line was even with the previous one and Ragnar realized that Elena didn’t care that Matheus was unlike the other boys, nor did she feel he had any less value.
Instead, she saw beyond his problems and found his strengths.
The dark yearning for her caught him like a fist. If she belonged to him, he’d reach across the table and kiss her hard, drawing her back to their bed.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear.
Because he wanted more from her. Not just a smile or a stolen moment together. He wanted her at his side, though he knew he didn’t deserve her.
He gave her no answer but stood up when he saw a shadow cross the window. Although it could have been anyone passing by, his instincts rose up. Ragnar stood and went closer, his hand upon his sword hilt.
“What is it?” Elena asked.
He didn’t know, but he strongly suspected it had to do with Elena’s earlier fears that someone was following them. “Wait here,” he commanded. “And bar the door behind me.” No one would threaten them—not if he could help it.
He opened the door and hastened to follow a man who was walking quickly toward a throng of people. The figure had no distinguishing features—from the back, his hair was a dark blond, and he wore no colors to set him apart. But the fact that he was hurrying was reason enough to pursue him.
Ragnar pushed his way through the crowd until he caught up to the man. “Wait,” he ordered, catching him by the arm.
The man stopped, a questioning look on his face. “I don’t know you.” His words were spoken in a calm tone, but his eyes shifted, as if searching for a means to escape.
“No, but you stopped at my house. I want to know why.” Ragnar didn’t let go of the man’s arm, waiting for an explanation.
The man glanced around him for a moment and shrugged. “I didn’t know it was yours. I only wanted to look in at my son.”
His son? Ragnar tensed, studying the man’s features and realized that they were similar to Matheus’s. “Your wife tried to murder him a few days ago,” he pointed out.
The man’s face set in a line. “So I heard. He’s not good for much, but my blood runs through his veins. I wanted to see how he was.”
Although it was a father’s right to ensure his son’s welfare, Ragnar didn’t trust the look in the man’s face. He didn’t appear at all remorseful over his wife’s actions. “He’s well enough.”
With that, Ragnar started to walk away, but the man called out, “If we allow you to keep Matheus, we deserve compensation in some form.”
So this was the man’s reason. Ragnar turned back, keeping his temper shielded. “We saved his life. You’ll get no compensation from us.”
A sly look crossed the man’s face. “I could accuse the pair of you of kidnapping him. It would be my right, as his father.”
“And I could accuse your wife of attempting to drown him,” Ragnar countered. “Let the boy go and be on your way. If you wanted to be rid of him, you are. And he’s better for it.”
“I want gold,” he said. “A body price for the son I’ve given up.”
Rage boiled inside Ragnar. How did this man dare demand coin in return for a child?
He closed his hands over the man’s throat and slammed him against the wall of a house.
Slowly, he closed off the man’s air, lifting him off the ground.
He waited until the man’s struggles diminished, before he dropped him.
“There. You can have your miserable life as compensation. But if you come anywhere near Elena again, you’ll lose it.”
One week later
Blood was streaming from Ragnar’s temple and his jaw was swollen. Every muscle in his body ached, but he’d won his prize of silver. It was enough.
“What’s happened to you?” Elena demanded, when he came inside. The boy was in the corner, playing. Before Ragnar could give her an answer, she predicted, “You fought again, didn’t you?”
“And won.” He tossed a heavy leather bag onto the table. Over the past few weeks, he’d earned a reputation as a ruthless fighter. He’d defeated every last opponent until now, there were few men who would challenge him.
“I don’t know why you’ve come to me,” Elena shot back. “Were you wanting me to heal your cuts and bruises after I asked you not to fight?” She tossed a linen cloth at him. “If you won’t listen to me, you can heal your own wounds.”
Ragnar leaned in close, dropping his voice low. “You’re not my wife, s?tnos. I don’t have to answer to you.“ He took a step forward, and she retreated. “I fought because I wanted to.”
“I thought you said you had enough silver for the ship. Or was it not enough for you? Will you keep fighting until they bring your broken body back to me?” Her cheeks were crimson, and she looked as if she wanted to strike him.
“I intend to make my fortune, regardless of the means.” Though it meant pushing his body to the limit, he no longer cared.
“Silver doesn’t matter to me,” she argued. “It never has.”
“It mattered to your family,” he pointed out. He remembered all too well the way her father had looked down on him. And although Ragnar’s skill in fighting had improved, his wealth had not. He was hardly more than a mercenary, living by his sword.
“And you think that I judged you the way my father did? You think I’ll want you more if you have more silver?” Her face turned incredulous. “What kind of a woman do you think I am?”
“One who deserves a good provider.” Elena’s outburst took him by surprise, for he hadn’t meant to imply that she was greedy.
“All you want is to be rid of me,” she accused. “You’ve been fighting for silver these past few weeks, because you’re trying to send me back to Hordafylke.”
His anger exploded. “I’ve been fighting these past few weeks because if I don’t, I’ll hurt you.”
She stilled, confusion clouding her face. “You would never lift a hand against me, Ragnar.”