Ragnar leaned in close, dropping his voice low. “You’re not my wife,søtnos. I don’t have to answer to you.“ He took a step forward, and she retreated. “I fought because I wanted to.”
“I thought you said you had enough silver for the ship. Or was it not enough for you? Will you keep fighting until they bring your broken body back to me?” Her cheeks were crimson, and she looked as if she wanted to strike him.
“I intend to make my fortune, regardless of the means.” Though it meant pushing his body to the limit, he no longer cared.
“Silver doesn’t matter to me,” she argued. “It never has.”
“It mattered to your family,” he pointed out. He remembered all too well the way her father had looked down on him. And although Ragnar’s skill in fighting had improved, his wealth had not. He was hardly more than a mercenary, living by his sword.
“And you think that I judged you the way my father did? You think I’ll want you more if you have more silver?” Her face turned incredulous. “What kind of a woman do you think I am?”
“One who deserves a good provider.” Elena’s outburst took him by surprise, for he hadn’t meant to imply that she was greedy.
“All you want is to be rid of me,” she accused. “You’ve been fighting for silver these past few weeks, because you’re trying to send me back to Hordafylke.”
His anger exploded. “I’ve been fighting these past few weeks because if I don’t, I’ll hurt you.”
She stilled, confusion clouding her face. “You would never lift a hand against me, Ragnar.”
“You’re wrong.” He moved forward, pressing her back against the wall. With his voice low, he said, “You tormented me every day of the past five years when I watched you go to his bed. And after you shared mine, I’ve thought of nothing else since.”
She averted her gaze and he murmured in her ear, “Every night, I sleep away from you because if I don’t, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you. You’re a hunger I’ll never be able to sate. And fighting takes the edge off.”
Her breathing had grown unsettled, and he moved away from her, knowing he’d frightened her. He shouldn’t have come, especially since the raging desire hadn’t abated at all.
“Wait,” Elena whispered. She reached again for a cloth and dampened it with water, washing the blood from his temple. He held steady, noticing the green of her eyes and the softness of the lips he wanted to claim. Right now, he didn’t want to remain patient. He wanted to seize the moment and take what he wanted.
She dipped the cloth in cool water again and began sponging at his other cuts and bruises. The touch of her hands was gentle and she stood so near, his arousal was almost painful.
“I don’t want you to die,” she said, rinsing away the blood at his temple.
“I wouldn’t have died, Elena.” He couldn’t believe the dismay in her voice. She’d seen Styr and him sparring all the time.
“But you could have been killed,” she insisted. “And youwilldie, if you continue fighting for no reason at all.“ She tossed the cloth down on the table, and her shoulders rose with the heat of her anger. “I asked you not to.”
“Do you think I’ll hide behind a woman’s skirts with no means of earning my way?” It had hardly been a fighting match at all. He’d easily defeated his opponent but had left the man alive.
“Do you even care about your life?” she demanded.
He sobered and reached out with his knuckles to caress her face. “Do you?”
The stricken look on her face caught him low, in the gut. In her eyes, he saw fear and worry, revealing her feelings. “Yes,” she whispered. “I care a great deal about you.”
In silent response, he leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. God help him, he didn’t know what to say or do now.
When Elena touched her hand to his heart, he stole a kiss, claiming her mouth. She kissed him back, and he tasted the fear upon her lips. Not only fear for his safety, but a slight tremble of what was happening between them. But now was not the time to act upon it. Not with the boy here.
Ragnar glanced around at the house. The interior of Elena’s home, normally immaculate, was in complete disarray. The bedding was unmade, and there were dishes still on the table. He’d paid no heed to his surroundings until now and her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry about the mess. We were...busy working on the walls today.”
Young Matheus was smearing mud into the wicker crevices. He gave no indication that he’d heard any of their conversation.
Ragnar leaned in and asked, “Have you seen any sign of the boy’s father since last week?” When she shook her head, headded, “I’ve asked some of our kinsmen to help me keep watch over this house. I don’t think he’ll return.”
But although he spoke the words to reassure her, he still didn’t trust that the man would leave Elena alone. Matheus’s father was far more interested in personal gain than his son’s welfare.
“I hope not,” she whispered. “And besides that, you’re here.”
Her words sent another fierce ache within him, to take her down upon the pallet and claim her. He was itching to touch her, to palm her breasts and taste them until she arched in ecstasy.
