“You made me happy, too. In a different way.” He held her close, stroking her hair. “I want you to wed again. Not an arranged match, like ours was. But to a man of your choosing.”
Likely, he thought that would make her feel better. She had no doubt that he would find Caragh Ó Brannon and wed her, as soon as he could. But she had to decide what to do with her own life.
She didn’t want to return to Hordafylke. There, she would have to explain to the others that she’d divorced Styr and why. Despite the fact that it was her decision, she didn’t want to see their looks of pity.
Styr began talking about memories of their marriage that he’d enjoyed. Moments when they’d been younger, still learning about what it was to be man and wife. But she recognized it for what it was—sympathy. He was trying to make her feel better, to ease the blow to her pride.
She let him talk, even offering her own thoughts from time to time. But inside, the restless feeling grew. Her pride wasshredded, and she felt the impulse to do something rash. The urge was kindled even higher with the reckless need to feel as if someone wanted her.
She couldn’t remain here with a man who didn’t want her, reliving the memories of a failed marriage. If she stayed, she would only succumb to tears of humiliation. She needed to leave right now. Though she could not wander the streets of Dubh Linn, she knew exactly where to go. Ragnar would never turn her away.
A sudden tension took hold in her stomach as she remembered the forbidden touch she’d shared with him. The caress that never should have happened. And yet it had left her reeling with desire.
Styr was starting to fall asleep, and she urged him to lie down. He did and Elena remained seated on the floor. Once he was asleep, she stepped outside their home. It was long past midnight, but she wasn’t tired at all. The restlessness had evolved into a yearning. Though she didn’t know what she would say to Ragnar when she got there, she wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted him to make her feel as if someone wanted her, even if her husband no longer did.
He was a good friend, a man she trusted.
She only hoped he wouldn’t turn her away.
Ragnar jerked awake as a woman’s mouth touched his. It was Elena who had slipped beside him. He knew it from her scent and the shyness of her kiss.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded in a whisper. It was only hours before dawn and several of his friends and kinsmen were sleeping around them.
She said nothing at first, though her body was pressed beside his. Her hands came up to his face. “Don’t send me away. I can’t sleep in my own house this night.”
He was surprised she hadn’t sent Styr away. After she had announced the divorce, Ragnar had expected his friend to return. The longer the hours had crept on, the more he’d wondered if perhaps Styr had argued with her to change her mind.
“He’s going back to the Irishwoman,” Elena said softly. “With my blessing.”
Pain laced her words, and when she burrowed her face against his chest, Ragnar knew he could not force her to go. She needed a sanctuary, and he could give that to her now.
“I’ll find a bed for you,” he whispered, starting to sit up.
“No.” She pulled him back down and lay face-to-face with him. “I want to be with you this night.”
Her meaning became clear when she pulled him back for another kiss. This time, a very different emotion cracked through him. She was tentative, trying to coax a response.
Her warm mouth moved against his, her tongue touching the seam at his lips. The raw desire to claim her, to conquer the lips that had tormented him over the years, was stronger than he’d ever known.
But he knew why she was here—and it wasn’t because she wanted him. The dark truth was undeniable—she was using him to forget about her husband. She’d come to him, wanting an escape. And although his body was rejoicing in it, his mind was raging.
Ragnar kissed her back, but not as a gentle lover would. No, he became the aggressor, ravaging her mouth. She mistakenly believed that he would give her what she wanted. But he refused to be a substitute for the man she desired in her bed.
He fully intended to frighten her away, but instead she let out a shuddering breath, meeting his tongue with her own. She was aroused by this. He could sense it in the way her skin warmed beneath his hands and the way her back arched.
Her fingers pushed through his hair, and his body hardened as she thrust her tongue against his. He could take her here, without anyone knowing it. It was a matter of lifting her skirts and sliding between her legs. She would allow it, for that was why she’d come. He could silence her moans. The idea of joining with the woman he’d loved for so long was a dark temptation.
But she doesn’t want you, the voice of reason reminded him.She’s using you to forget her pain.
The more Ragnar thought of it, the angrier it made him. He didn’t want to be her escape. If she had come to him because she’d genuinely cared, that might have changed his mind. Instead, he broke away.
“You don’t want this, Elena.”
Her breathing had quickened and she traced her fingers over his cheek. “Yes, I do,” she whispered. “This has been the worst night I’ve ever endured, and you were the only one I wanted to be with.”
God help him, but he wanted to believe it. In the shadowed darkness, he took her hand and led her to sit up. “Come with me.”
Ragnar didn’t want her here, not surrounded by so many kinsmen. He led her back outside, to the small lean-to where he’d stored grain and hay for the animals. The space was dark and enclosed with no one to see them.
