“We need to find Styr,” she insisted. “We’ve been gone too long and I’m afraid for him.”
The mention of her husband drew a grim finality in Ragnar’s eyes. He released her hand and she found herself turning away. “They could be torturing him.” Or worse, he might be dead. She tried to imagine life without him and a cold fear sank into her.
“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 herwhat 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.
