Chapter Fifteen #3
He took the boy to an isolated part of the beach and sat upon one of the large boulders. He held the boy tightly in his arms and the boy’s screaming eventually dwindled to sobbing. The cries calmed when the boy began staring at the rhythmic waves surging against the sand.
Elena trudged through the damp sand and came to sit beside them.
She said nothing at all while Ragnar held the boy.
It was strange to have a child in his arms and for a moment, he wondered if this was what it meant to be a father.
To know that this small person depended on you for everything—food, shelter, and protection.
“I’m sorry for what I said.” She reached out to touch Matheus’s hair, but her eyes were on Ragnar. “I wasn’t thinking when I spoke.”
“I’m not my father,” he reminded her.
“I know that.”
But in her voice, he sensed a trace of unrest, as if she were uncertain what he was capable of.
She had brought a loaf of brown bread with her and broke off a piece, handing it to him.
Ragnar took it and gave it over to the child, who devoured it.
They held their silence, sharing the loaf between the three of them while the waves continued to roll across the shore.
Matheus seemed to slip into a trance and eventually Elena spoke.
“You were right. I shouldn’t have let him have his own way. I just...felt sorry for him after what his mother tried to do.”
He understood that. Her compassion was one of the reasons he’d been so taken by her, so long ago. “Being a mother means giving him what he needs. Not always what he wants.”
She moved to stand behind him, resting one hand upon his shoulder. “I’m not very good at this.”
“You will be.” He drew her around to his side, keeping an arm around both of them. For a moment, he held her close. Elena tensed but didn’t pull away. Eventually, her shoulders lowered, and she leaned her head against him.
“Thank you for being here. And for helping me.” She tilted her head back to look at him, and he inclined his head to acknowledge her remark. When he didn’t take his eyes from hers, she lowered her gaze.
“We should go back. He’ll be tired, and I really need to clean the house.” She started to reach for the boy, but Ragnar stopped her.
“I’m not Styr, Elena. I don’t care what the house looks like.”
“Neither did he,” she admitted. “It was a habit of mine, because I thought it was a way I could take care of him.”
“Just sit a moment with us,” he urged. He wanted her to enjoy the quiet rise and fall of the sea. Though she was reluctant, he brought her beside him.
“You make me nervous in your arms,” she whispered against his ear.
“Why is that?”
She turned her face against his chest but gave him nothing more. He sensed that if he pressed her, she would make up an excuse that wasn’t the truth.
“You don’t have to take care of me the way you did him,” Ragnar said.
She drew back and in the moonlight, he saw that her face held confusion. “I know you aren’t the same as Styr. What frightens me is all the ways I feel different around you.”
To distract herself, she smoothed Matheus’s hair, though her eyes were upon him.
“Styr should have given you a child to foster.”
“He offered to,” she admitted. “I refused, saying that I only wanted a child of my flesh and blood.”
It was obvious that she’d changed her mind.
Before he could ask why, she admitted, “I thought having our own child would bring us closer together, the way a foster child wouldn’t.
I thought Styr would love me if I could conceive a child of his blood.
” Her hand stilled upon Matheus’s hair. “But in the end, it didn’t matter.
Nothing I did or said would make him love me. ”
Elena took a breath and whispered, “What I did that night when I lay with you... It wasn’t fair. You were right. I was using you, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself. You deserved more than that.”
He heard the regret in her words, and that wasn’t at all what he’d hoped for. Despite her ended marriage, he didn’t believe she was over Styr. And as much as it frustrated him, he still felt as if he stood in the shadow of his best friend.
By the gods, he was a fool for being empty-headed enough to let himself dream of her. And for what? A woman who was tangled up in her own battered dreams and marriage to a man who hadn’t loved her.
“I’m grateful that you’ve stayed with me during these past few nights,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to be alone.”
He’d remained there to guard her, and while those nights might have brought her comfort, they’d only brought him frustration. Only last night she’d sat upon a stool, washing her face and hands. He’d watched her tie back her hair, the water droplets sliding over her skin.
She tempted him the way no woman ever had. But he wanted to give her so much more than a life like this. She’d been brought up in a large home with cups of silver and wealth that Ragnar could only imagine.
He couldn’t give her that now...but if he fought to earn more, he could. In her eyes, he saw the future he craved, the woman he’d dreamed of.
Elena stood and tried to take the boy, but Ragnar kept him in his arms. “I’ll carry him.” He stood up from the boulder, shifting Matheus so he could continue staring at the waves.
With the boy against his shoulder, he led her back home again. And he made a silent vow to himself that one day, he would have Elena Karlsdotter.
Or die in the attempt.