“Why is that?”
She turned her face against his chest but gave him nothing more. He sensed that if he pressed her, she would make up an excuse that wasn’t the truth.
“You don’t have to take care of me the way you did him,” Ragnar said.
She drew back and in the moonlight, he saw that her face held confusion. “I know you aren’t the same as Styr. What frightens me is all the ways I feel different around you.”
To distract herself, she smoothed Matheus’s hair, though her eyes were upon him.
“Styr should have given you a child to foster.”
“He offered to,” she admitted. “I refused, saying that I only wanted a child of my flesh and blood.”
It was obvious that she’d changed her mind. Before he could ask why, she admitted, “I thought having our own child wouldbring us closer together, the way a foster child wouldn’t. I thought Styr would love me if I could conceive a child of his blood.” Her hand stilled upon Matheus’s hair. “But in the end, it didn’t matter. Nothing I did or said would make him love me.”
Elena took a breath and whispered, “What I did that night when I lay with you... It wasn’t fair. You were right. I was using you, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself. You deserved more than that.”
He heard the regret in her words, and that wasn’t at all what he’d hoped for. Despite her ended marriage, he didn’t believe she was over Styr. And as much as it frustrated him, he still felt as if he stood in the shadow of his best friend.
By the gods, he was a fool for being empty-headed enough to let himself dream of her. And for what? A woman who was tangled up in her own battered dreams and marriage to a man who hadn’t loved her.
“I’m grateful that you’ve stayed with me during these past few nights,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to be alone.”
He’d remained there to guard her, and while those nights might have brought her comfort, they’d only brought him frustration. Only last night she’d sat upon a stool, washing her face and hands. He’d watched her tie back her hair, the water droplets sliding over her skin.
She tempted him the way no woman ever had. But he wanted to give her so much more than a life like this. She’d been brought up in a large home with cups of silver and wealth that Ragnar could only imagine.
He couldn’t give her that now...but if he fought to earn more, he could. In her eyes, he saw the future he craved, the woman he’d dreamed of.
Elena stood and tried to take the boy, but Ragnar kept him in his arms. “I’ll carry him.” He stood up from the boulder, shifting Matheus so he could continue staring at the waves.
With the boy against his shoulder, he led her back home again. And he made a silent vow to himself that one day, he would have Elena Karlsdotter.
Or die in the attempt.
Chapter Sixteen
Elena opened the door to her home and Ragnar passed Matheus to her. His head lay against her shoulder as she balanced the boy against her hip. When they entered, the darkness of the interior was broken only by the soft glow of coals on the hearth.
“Put the boy to bed,” Ragnar ordered. “I want to look around outside to make certain it’s safe.” His hand cupped her chin and he leaned in close, his mouth near her ear. “Bar the door behind me, and I’ll return soon.”
Heat prickled across her skin at the words, but Elena gave him no answer. She closed the door and lowered the bar, her thoughts in a tangle of confusion. She’d apologized for seducing Ragnar when the truth was, she wasn’t sorry at all. She’d reveled in the lovemaking, perhaps because it had been so forbidden. The feelings he’d stirred inside her had been overwhelming, and Elena admitted to herself that she’d never felt like that with Styr.
She couldn’t put a name to her feelings for Ragnar. Although it had only been a few weeks since she’d divorced her husband, her heart knew that it was different with this man.
She’d always been close to him in a way she hadn’t been with Styr. She could voice any thought, any fear, without feeling foolish. Comparing the two of them, she preferred Ragnar—and that knowledge frightened her. It was happening too fast, and she couldn’t tell if her reactions were born of lust…or feelings that had always been there, with a man who understood her in a way Styr never had.
The flare of an oil lamp caught her attention and Elena froze. “Who’s there?” The hair on her scalp stood on end and she shifted her grip to the dagger at her waist.
“You’re not going to take my son from me,” came a voice from the far side of her home.
Elena turned in horror to see Matheus’s father emerging with a blade in his hands. She’d been too trusting, never suspecting that an intruder might already be inside.
“Leave my home,” she ordered, raising her voice louder in the hopes Ragnar would hear. She didn’t dare let go of Matheus, for fear that the boy’s father would try to take him.
“You’re going to pay me for him,” the man insisted. “With gold, or—” His gaze passed over her breasts. “By another means.”
Elena lowered Matheus from her arms, shielding him with her own body. In his ear, she whispered, “Go and fetch Ragnar.”
