“I knew you didn’t want to travel with me,” he said. “And if I was away, you couldn’t conceive a child.” He raised his shoulders in a shrug as though it meant nothing that she’d held him back.
“That was your dream, not mine,” she said. “I should have given you my blessing, but I was too afraid to be alone.”
A sliver of fear reached down her spine, making her question her courage now. She didn’t want this life anymore. She didn’t want to live in the shadows as the wife he’d kept for reasons of honor, not love.
She wanted a man to look at her the way he had looked at Caragh.
For a moment, she pulled back to look into her husband’s eyes. Styr had remained at her side for so long, allying their families together. But he didn’t love her. He never had.
It hurt more deeply than any pain she’d known, but the truth was there, before her eyes. He hadn’t wanted to return to her. He’d been happy with the Irishwoman in a way he’d never been with her.
She needed to let him go.
Elena reached up to touch his cheek and admitted, “I still love you, Styr.” Her heart remained heavy, wishing there was a way to mend the broken years between them.
Her husband didn’t answer at first, but Elena didn’t want lies or words of reassurance. “Don’t say it. I’ve known you too long and that isn’t what you feel for me. Not anymore.” She couldn’t stop the tears that ran down her cheeks, knowing how much she was about to lose. Five years had been so long.
Her words hadn’t been a lie. She did love him enough to do what was necessary now. And that meant making the decision toend this marriage and set him free. A tremor resonated in her heart, for he would be so angry with her. But it was the only chance they had at happiness.
“We had some good years together,” she whispered, through a smile she didn’t feel.
“We did.” His hand came to stroke her hair, and there was a thickness to his voice. “And we’ll have more.”
No. No, it was too late for that. He was grieving, not only for the loss of a child they’d never conceived, but for Caragh—the woman who had utterly captured his heart.
Her courage faltered a moment, but Elena knew this had to be done now, before she could change her mind. It was the best course of action for both of them.
“Will you walk with me?” she asked, hoping he would not guess what she was about to do. Her nerves were unsteady, but he nodded, holding her hand.
Elena led him toward Ragnar’s house, knowing that this was where they both needed to be. Here, among friends, they would make a new beginning. She could only pray that Styr wouldn’t despise her when it was over.
Glancing at the structure of the longhouse, she could smell the fresh thatch and wood shavings. She ran her hands over the surface of the logs, knowing that Ragnar had labored for many hours.
“He’ll finish it in another few days,” Styr said.
Elena didn’t answer but opened the door, her heart pounding wildly. Inside, Ragnar was seated with their friends and kinsmen at a long table. He was dressed in a leather tunic and leggings, his rough-cut brown hair framing a strong jaw and dark green eyes.
Those same eyes fixed upon her and in them, she saw a hunger. She froze a moment, caught up by the intensity. Thena moment later, he responded to something his kinsman said, leaving Elena to wonder if she’d imagined it.
Roasted pheasant and boar were on large platters, along with pitchers of ale. The men had been telling stories and laughing, but some of their discussion died down when they saw Styr and her.
Her heartbeat was pounding so fast, her ears were ringing. She knew her husband was curious as to why she’d brought them here. He might believe it was to spend time with their friends, but she had a different purpose in mind.
You must do this, her conscience insisted.
“There is something I would ask of you,” she said quietly to their friends. She had their full attention now and Styr’s as well. He gave a slight nod and her heartbeat pounded faster. A roaring sensation filled her ears, but she continued. “I ask you to be my witnesses.”
Though she didn’t want to look into her husband’s eyes and see the anger, Elena forced herself to meet him squarely. She raised her voice so that everyone could hear her, but her gaze remained fixed upon him. “I have been wedded to Styr for five years now. In that time, I have been barren and it is unfair of me to bind him in this marriage.”
She released his hand, her heart crying out as she said clearly, “I divorce you, Styr Hardrata. In the presence of these witnesses.”
Thrice she spoke the words, until it was done.
Chapter Eleven
Styr appeared stunned at her proclamation, and no one spoke in the house. When Elena caught a glimpse of Ragnar’s reaction, his expression, too, was unreadable. Whether or not he cared, she could not say.
Better to leave now and let them believe what they would. She walked outside, returning to the house she’d shared with Styr. A lightheaded sensation rippled through her. It was done now.
