And when she turned to see his face, Ragnar’s eyes glared down at her.
“Elena.” Ragnar heard her cry out in her sleep, and she was trembling violently. “Wake up.”
He couldn’t tell if it was a nightmare or something with the baby, but he moved beside her, reaching out.
But the moment he touched her shoulder, she let out a moan. “Please.” Her breathing hitched and he was taken aback when she gripped his hand and pulled it around to her breast.
She was still dreaming, but the moment she felt his hand upon her, she let out another cry and shuddered like a woman finding her release.
And just like that, he grew hard. He didn’t know what she was dreaming of, but hearing her climax was enough to conjure his own arousal.
In his mind, he let out a curse, knowing it was wrong. But for a stolen moment, he drew his hand over her swollen breast, seizing a fleeting touch he never should have had.
He wanted her so badly, it was all he could do not to pull her to her back and lift her skirts. From the deep scent of her skin, she was ready for him. He could sink into her wet depths and bring her to another release.
Ragnar jerked his hand away as if it were on fire. He didn’t know if she was awake or not, but he prayed she wasn’t. What in the name of Thor was he doing? She was likely dreaming of her husband, missing Styr when she’d reached for him instead.
Careful not to wake her, he left their shelter, seeking the frigid darkness to cool his ardor. He drew his hand down to his wound, resting it against the bandage to provoke pain. Anything to fight against the lust she’d conjured.
Staying with her had been a mistake. He couldn’t lie anywhere near her without wanting more. She was, and always had been, the woman he’d dreamed of. He limped forward, resting his hand against a nearby tree. With slow, deep breaths, he calmed his heartbeat.
No more.
He would not betray his best friend, nor would he give rein to his desires. Elena was not a woman he could ever have. She hadmarried another man and was likely pregnant with an unborn son.
And like a fool, he’d kept pining for her. Hoping for what? That she would divorce her husband and seek him instead? It would never happen. Though he’d watched their marriage falter as her barrenness took away her spirit, Styr had wanted to make his wife happy. He’d shown Ragnar the ivory comb he’d bought for Elena as a gift, though he’d not had time to give it to her. He’d planned to offer it when they had finished building their new home together.
Ragnar rested his forehead against the rough bark, knowing that it was time to turn from Elena. She had been sent by the goddess Freya to test his limits, to prove his honor.
It was better to stay far, far away from her. And find another woman to love.
Elena avoided Ragnar over the next two days. He didn’t speak to her at all about the night he’d touched her, and it was better to pretend it hadn’t happened. Every time she remembered the dream, she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
For she remembered the way she’d shamelessly taken his hand to her breast. In the darkness, she’d feigned sleep, though she’d known perfectly well what she was doing. The intensity of her own needs had broken through like a raging fire, and she’d said nothing of that night. But her body knew that the dream was only a prophecy of what might happen between them if she allowed it.
She didn’t know what was wrong with her. If anything, she should have dreamed of Styr, not this man. Her hand moved down to rest against her womb, and she walked along the shore,searching for ships. There had been none since the day she’d spied the fishing boat. Elena was beginning to wonder if she’d imagined it.
Her leather shoes sank into the sand while the cool morning wind buffeted her hair. The sun was bright, and she shielded her eyes against it, eyeing the gray water for a glimpse of hope.
In one hand, she carried the axe in the hopes that she might find more fallen limbs or driftwood. Although she’d rebuilt a solid shelter for herself and Ragnar, the time stretched on until she realized she needed more tasks to satisfy her. She’d set some snares for hunting, but an even greater challenge was keeping her distance from the man who attracted her.
It wasn’t right, and she locked away the feelings, hoping he would never guess them. Once she was reunited with Styr, her sinful thoughts would vanish.
When it was clear there were no more ships, she climbed the hillside back to the clearing. A sound caught her attention, and she turned toward the west. Listening hard, she tried to detect what it was, but now there was only silence. Still, she kept her grip firmly on the axe as she approached their shelter. Ragnar had been sleeping when she’d left at dawn, but from the nearby coals of a fire it appeared that he, too, was awake.
When she reached the trees where she’d built the small lean-to, there came the sound of men’s voices, speaking the Norse language.
Her heart thundered inside her, and she knew. The raiders had come back for her, as she’d feared. And this time, a trick would not deter them. If she wasn’t careful, both of them would die. She wanted to call out to Ragnar, but was afraid her voice would alert the men. Then, too, they were outnumbered.
Elena remained frozen in place, trying to calm the rush of fear roaring in her veins. Instinct demanded that she run, but that would only draw them to her. Her eyes scanned thesurroundings, searching for a means of escape. Hiding was her best option.
But before she could take a single step, a man’s voice called out from behind her. “I’ve found her!”
Terror iced within her body, numbing her to this fate. She turned and saw the man, recognizing his face as an enemy. His sly leer made it clear what he intended to do. He and these men would try to rape her, beating her until at last they killed her. She had no doubt of it.
She couldn’t stand here and let it happen. There was no way to know where Ragnar was, but she had a weapon in her hands.
And only one chance.
