Ever since she’d dreamed of lying with him, she no longer trusted herself. She didn’t know the woman she was becoming, one ruled by desire instead of honor. But she needed him to know the truth, for that would keep him at a distance.
Her face flamed with embarrassment. “You made me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time.”
Ragnar let out a slow breath. “You wouldn’t have betrayed Styr. Nor would I.” He tossed a stick onto the fire and admitted, “I wanted to marry you, years ago. But I never dared to ask, after the arrangement your parents made.”
His confession startled her, for she’d not expected this. She drew her knees up and looked at him. In his eyes, the stark longing set all her defenses on edge.
“I’m not telling you this to make you uncomfortable. Nor would I do anything to take you away from Styr. He’s a good man and you deserve to be together.”
But she understood why he was speaking now. Both of them could have died this day.
“I was dreaming of you,” she confessed. “That night in the tent when I made you touch me. It shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry for what I did.”
His dark green eyes fixed upon her, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She half expected him to move away from her in disgust. Instead, he took her face between his hands, remaining silent. And she knew, without him speaking a single word, that he’d desired her, too.
Elena covered his hands with her own, drinking in the touch of his palms. The heat of this moment sank beneath her skin, conjuring up the lost feelings she’d put aside. She remembered how his lips had felt beneath hers, and a sudden longing flushed through her skin.
It was as if a part of her had been brought back to life, resurrected in this man’s touch. She wasn’t used to feeling so strongly or yearning for something she couldn’t have.
Finally, he took his hands away and regarded her. “I believe that Styr is alive and that you’ll go back with him. I kept my word to protect you, and I promise to keep you safe until the day I have to let you go.”
The words were a stark reminder that nothing would happen between them. No matter how much she might want to take comfort from his touch.
But though his hands were no longer upon her, he was still staring at her with unbridled longing. “If you were my wife at this moment, I’d kiss you now,” he said. “I’d taste your sweetness and run my tongue over your lower lip.”
The words flowed through her, pushing the forbidden feelings to the surface. Elena closed her eyes, trying not to envision it.
“I’d use my mouth all over your skin,” he continued. “Your neck...your bare breasts, and then I’d go lower,” he said huskily. “Until you’re craving me inside you.”
Just like the night she’d dreamed of him, her body went soft, imagining him. He shouldn’t be speaking such words, tempting her in such a way. She could hardly bear it and her face was flushed.
It didn’t matter what had happened these past few days. No matter that she’d grown so close to him. She was a woman of honor and would never be disloyal to her husband. “I can’t be yours, Ragnar,” she whispered. “I belong to him.”
The tension in his hands was palpable as he drew them back. “Don’t fear, Elena. I’ll never touch you again. Whatever I might desire, I’ll never do anything to act upon it. He won’t know.”
“He can’t,” she whispered. “I won’t be disloyal to him.”
“Neither will I.” He stood up, opening the wooden door to their shelter. “When you’re warm, go and sleep. I’ll keep watch for the night.” Reaching out, he dropped a kiss upon her forehead, the way a brother might.
Yet all she could think was that Styr had never affected her in that way. And Ragnar hadn’t laid a hand upon her.
Chapter Nine
The ship came at night.
Ragnar had left Elena sleeping back within the shelter while he’d spent time alone, walking along the beach. He’d never expected to see anything among the waves, but when he heard voices, he stared out at the water, wondering who was there. In the distance, he spied the flare of torches, revealing a vessel that paused momentarily near the outcropping of stone before it continued to the shore.
He remained hidden, a weapon in each hand. Although they had survived the first attack, and he’d burned the bodies of the raiders, there could be more invaders. And yet he wanted to wait before alerting Elena.
The ship was anchored farther out and soon enough, Ragnar realized it was their ship. The brass weathervane proclaimed it as the one that had brought them from Norway. At long last, he spied the face of his best friend, Styr.
The sight of the man should have filled him with immense relief. He should have run to Elena and awakened her, telling her that her husband had come at last.
But Styr was carrying a woman in his arms. And from the look on his face, he had strong feelings for her. He was not only holding her to keep her from the cold water—it was more than that. Styr was drinking in the sight of the dark-haired beauty as if she were his beloved. And when he lowered her to the sand, his arms lingered around her.
The bastard.
Ragnar’s anger blasted through him at the sight of them together. How could his friend do this to Elena? The young woman had fought for her life, time and again. She’d been willing to travel across Éire in search of her husband. And in repayment for her loyalty, her husband had found someone else—his captor.
