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 herhusband. 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.”
Chapter Six
Ragnar was beginning to think that this was his punishment. The small tent was filled with her scent, and it was a constant torment to be so close to Elena. Jealousy was eating away at his mood and he’d not slept at all.
Worse, the storm was growing more intense, the wind howling against the small tent. Despite the heated stones, the cold air slipped through the crevices, making it more uncomfortable.
Elena slept fitfully and once, she moved to snuggle against him. He tried to remain still, but when she pressed her bottom against him, it was nearly his undoing. Only a thin layer of cloth separated their bodies, and his restraint was worn down to a thread.
Not yours, his brain reminded him. Only a man without honor would touch her while she was unaware of it. She was his best friend’s wife, and he had to bury his desires and feelings. No matter how much he might want her.
But what if Styr is dead?The terrible thought twined around him until reason intervened. Even if that happened, Elena would never turn to a man like him. She knew of the countless men he’d slain and the violence he was capable of.
