“Dry him off,” Ragnar commanded. “And then we’ll give him something to eat.”
When she tried to dry the boy’s hands, Matheus shoved her away. Elena stumbled backward and Ragnar caught her before she could fall. Seconds later, the child ran to the wall and beganscreaming again. Over and over, he cried out, howling at the top of his lungs.
The stricken look on Elena’s face revealed that she’d never expected the boy to lash out at her. She’d rescued him, giving him a home and food to eat. Likely she’d believed Matheus would love her for giving him all the things he needed.
But this had gone too far.
“Wait here,” Ragnar commanded, picking up the child. The boy needed to calm down, to understand his boundaries.
“Do not beat him,” Elena argued. “I know he’s been disobedient, but—”
“Did I say that was my intent?” Ragnar cut her off and opened the door. It irritated him that she would believe he would beat a child who hardly understood anything of what was happening. The thought appalled him, that she would accuse him of such a thing.
You fight for silver, a voice inside reminded him.There is blood on your hands. Why wouldn’t she believe you capable of harming an innocent?
He kept the screaming boy upon his hip. “Come with us, if you don’t trust me.”
She faltered. “I do trust you. But you’ve never been around younger children.”
From the tone of her voice, he guessed her true fear—that he would be the same as his father, unable to control his temper. Olaf had beaten him regularly, with his fists and sometimes a wooden staff. Elena knew it, just as everyone else did.
It sobered him, for the last thing he would do was raise a hand to a child.
Ragnar continued walking away from the houses and toward the shoreline. He walked down the wooden docks until they reached the farthest end, away from the ships. With a glance behind him, he saw that Elena had followed at last.
He took the boy to an isolated part of the beach and sat upon one of the large boulders. He held the boy tightly in his arms and the boy’s screaming eventually dwindled to sobbing. The cries calmed when the boy began staring at the rhythmic waves surging against the sand.
Elena trudged through the damp sand and came to sit beside them. She said nothing at all while Ragnar held the boy. It was strange to have a child in his arms and for a moment, he wondered if this was what it meant to be a father. To know that this small person depended on you for everything—food, shelter, and protection.
“I’m sorry for what I said.” She reached out to touch Matheus’s hair, but her eyes were on Ragnar. “I wasn’t thinking when I spoke.”
“I’m not my father,” he reminded her.
“I know that.”
But in her voice, he sensed a trace of unrest, as if she were uncertain what he was capable of.
She had brought a loaf of brown bread with her and broke off a piece, handing it to him. Ragnar took it and gave it over to the child, who devoured it. They held their silence, sharing the loaf between the three of them while the waves continued to roll across the shore. Matheus seemed to slip into a trance and eventually Elena spoke.
“You were right. I shouldn’t have let him have his own way. I just...felt sorry for him after what his mother tried to do.”
He understood that. Her compassion was one of the reasons he’d been so taken by her, so long ago. “Being a mother means giving him what he needs. Not always what he wants.”
She moved to stand behind him, resting one hand upon his shoulder. “I’m not very good at this.”
“You will be.” He drew her around to his side, keeping an arm around both of them. For a moment, he held her close. Elenatensed but didn’t pull away. Eventually, her shoulders lowered, and she leaned her head against him.
“Thank you for being here. And for helping me.” She tilted her head back to look at him, and he inclined his head to acknowledge her remark. When he didn’t take his eyes from hers, she lowered her gaze.
“We should go back. He’ll be tired, and I really need to clean the house.” She started to reach for the boy, but Ragnar stopped her.
“I’m not Styr, Elena. I don’t care what the house looks like.”
“Neither did he,” she admitted. “It was a habit of mine, because I thought it was a way I could take care of him.”
“Just sit a moment with us,” he urged. He wanted her to enjoy the quiet rise and fall of the sea. Though she was reluctant, he brought her beside him.
“You make me nervous in your arms,” she whispered against his ear.
