Harlequin Historical February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Major's Wife\To Tempt a Viking\Mistress Masquerade (33 page)

‘She's my wife. I know my obligations.' Styr wrenched himself free, sending Ragnar off balance. They circled one another, each looking for an opening to throw a punch.

‘She deserves better than you,' Ragnar countered. ‘You took a mistress and only stayed because of the baby. If Elena weren't pregnant, you wouldn't be here now.'

When he didn't deny it, fury boiled within him. Ragnar threw himself at Styr, knocking the man to the ground. ‘Did you think of her even once while she was fighting to live? When she threw herself off a ship to escape slavery and nearly drowned? Or when she was nearly killed yesterday by Norsemen?'

He knocked Styr's head against the ground, driven by the need to avenge Elena. She'd wept over this man, trying to find out what she'd done wrong in their marriage.

Styr's fist caught him across the jaw and Ragnar rolled away before the man could strike again.

‘I'm staying with her, damn you.' Styr's breathing was heavy, and he got to his feet, wiping at a bloody lip. ‘I never lay with Caragh.'

‘But you're in love with her.' It was obvious, from the way Ragnar had seen them together last night. Styr had carried her across the water, holding her as if he'd never wanted to let go.

Styr's silence was the answer he'd dreaded. ‘I won't divorce Elena. Not now, not when she's wanted this baby so much.'

Ragnar let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. ‘Don't hurt her, Styr. You don't know what she's been through these past few days. If you turn from her now—'

‘I won't.' Styr crossed his arms and levelled a glare at him. ‘Whatever was between Caragh and me is over. I'm taking Elena back to Dubh Linn, and we'll settle there, among our people.' A heaviness crossed over his expression and he added, ‘We'll be all right.'

Ragnar eyed the man, seeing a reflection of himself in the man's restless demeanour. ‘Don't make her unhappy,' he warned.

Or I'll steal her away from you.

* * *

At nightfall, Elena walked alongside the shoreline with Styr's hand in hers. When he'd returned from talking with Ragnar, both men had bruises and cuts from fighting. She didn't know what they'd said to one another, but neither did she ask. Her suspicions centred on the young woman who had left.

Although Styr had let her go, Elena wanted to know how strong his feelings were. She wanted so much to believe that they were acquaintances and that her suspicions were unfounded. But she feared what she'd observed between them.

‘I've seen the woman before,' she began, trying to keep her voice calm as if his answer didn't matter.

‘Caragh Ó Brannon,' he admitted. ‘Brendan was her younger brother.'

Elena remembered the adolescent who had led the raid, taking her and the others captive. His move had been foolhardy and dangerous, but she guessed why he'd done it. Whether or not it was his intention, by seizing her he'd effectively drawn the Norsemen away from the settlement and protected his sister.

But what Elena didn't understand was what had happened to her husband after the ship had sailed. ‘She took you as her captive, didn't she?'

Styr nodded. To her surprise, he showed no anger at being the prisoner of a woman. A thousand questions surged within her, to know what had happened. Whether he'd been hurt...or why he had been taken.

Instead, she caught a flash of guilt upon his face.

No. She didn't want to think that he'd found someone else to love. Not in this short of a time. But her mind couldn't conjure up a good reason why he would embrace the woman.

He stayed for you
, her brain reminded her.
He let her go.

Was it enough? She didn't doubt that he'd stayed because of the baby. But if there hadn't been a child, would he have divorced her? The icy hollowness spread within her, the fear growing.

She'd left her home in Norway, travelling where Styr had wanted to go. He'd always dreamed of roaming the world, while she'd wanted to remain home and start a family. Their differences had strained the marriage, but surely he wouldn't abandon her now. Not in this unfamiliar land.

‘Do you...have feelings for her?' She was trying not to sound accusatory, but Styr wouldn't look at her. That, in itself, told her a great deal.

‘Why would you ask me something like that? I only knew her for a few days.'

Again, he was behaving as if it meant nothing. ‘I have eyes, Styr. I saw you with her.'

I saw you holding her as if you didn't want to let go
,
her heart raged.

‘She left with her brothers. I told her farewell.' He shrugged it off as if it didn't matter.

Her anger began to take hold, for she knew he wasn't telling her the whole truth. How could he act as if nothing had happened? ‘You were embracing her.'

He spun and for the first time, his dark eyes met hers. ‘Nothing happened between us.'

The flash of his temper only ignited her frustration. ‘Then why are you so angry?' she shot back. She wasn't a blind fool who couldn't see what was before her. ‘If she were nothing to you, you wouldn't be acting this way.'

It took an effort, but she pulled back her rage and forced herself to remain calm. Inside, she was hurting from the unanswered questions and the invisible wounds to her faith in him. She was finding it difficult to trust anything he said.

He let out a breath and changed the subject. ‘I heard from Onund that you jumped from the ship.' She recognised the tactic, understanding that he didn't want to fight about this. And neither did she.

Elena nodded. ‘We were attacked by the Danes and there was only one chance to escape. Ragnar helped me to reach the shore.' He'd saved her from drowning, even though he'd been wounded himself. His courage had kept her from breaking apart, giving her strength to endure the past few days.

‘Both of you could have died,' Styr said.

It was true and she fought back the tears, just remembering it. Not only because of what might have happened to Ragnar and her...but also to her baby.

‘I wasn't about to let myself be sold into slavery,' she told him. ‘This might be the only baby I'll ever have.'

Styr's expression fell and he let out a sigh. He said nothing for a time, but his attention shifted to the boat disappearing in the mist.

There was nothing worse than knowing that someone no longer loved you. If he ever had.

Finally, he spoke. ‘Do you know how long I searched for you? I thought you had died.'

The worry in his voice granted her a measure of comfort and she came to stand behind him. Her heart was heavy as she spoke. ‘I didn't think they would let you live, either. But I'm glad you returned.'

She recognised that he was trying to make peace between them, putting aside the past. If she kept pushing him for answers, it would only damage the fragile reunion between them. Slowly, she walked to stand at his side, trying to lay her apprehensions to rest.

The fragile truce made it hard to converse and Styr finally led her to walk along the beach, while she followed.

‘How long have you been here?' he asked.

‘Nearly a week. The Danes wounded Ragnar, but he kept me safe.' Her cheeks flushed at the memory of his arms around her only this morning.

The knowledge unravelled part of her anger, for she was not blameless herself. Although she hadn't betrayed Styr with her feelings, she
had
kissed Ragnar and craved his touch in a sinful way.

It unsettled her, for she was trying to lay all the accusations at his feet, when she had made mistakes of her own. The past few days had brought her closer to Ragnar. She'd relied upon him to survive and he'd supported her through the darker days.

‘We found food and built this shelter,' she finished.

For a moment, Elena looked at the water, wondering if he could see the blush of her own guilt. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Styr's arm coming towards her and without thinking, she took a step backwards. ‘What are you—?'

Oh. He'd been trying to embrace her in welcome. She couldn't believe she'd misread his actions that badly. ‘You caught me unawares.' She leaned in, putting her arms around him in a light embrace. But he didn't hold her tight, the way a husband missing his wife would.

To emphasise her welcome, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Again, he didn't return the gesture, which made her feel uncertain about this.

Styr pulled back and asked, ‘How are you feeling?'

‘The same,' she admitted. ‘I wouldn't have known about the baby, if it weren't for the fact that I haven't bled in two moons.' She reached down to touch her stomach, wondering when she would begin to feel movement. ‘It seems so strange to think of a child growing inside me. I haven't been sick at all.'

His face had gone distant again, staring out at the water, and she began to talk faster. ‘I think the child will be born in early spring next year, if I've counted right.'

He gave no answer and she suspected he wasn't listening to her. His mind was focused upon the horizon and the woman who'd left. ‘We're going to be all right, aren't we, Styr?' Her voice was barely a whisper, all of her hopes bound up in that sentence.

But when he gave no answer at all, she feared the worst.

Chapter Ten

Dubh Linn
—three weeks later

R
agnar tried to stay away from her, but despite Elena's valiant attempts to restore her marriage with Styr, he could see the sadness beneath her forced smile. She was hurting and it killed him to stand by and do nothing.

He'd helped Styr build a small house and he'd poured his efforts into constructing another dwelling for himself and his kinsmen. Thankfully, none of them were slaves now. Styr had sailed to Dubh Linn in search of Elena and had found the men. During a fierce battle against the Danes, the men had fought bravely and earned their freedom.

Elena had asked to help today and he'd been amused as, once again, she began comparing the lengths and widths of the various logs.

‘This needs to be carved smoother,' she said, pointing to a raised edge. ‘It will fit more tightly together and keep the wind out.'

‘Go ahead, then.' Ragnar pointed to the hand-held draw knife that they'd used to smooth out the wood.

Elena eyed him as if he'd lost his mind. ‘I haven't the strength to carve the wood and you know this.'

‘It's not hard. Come and try.' He wanted to take her mind off her troubles and he hoped that the distraction of work would be welcome. Her hair was unbound, except for a section she'd pulled back from the crown and tied off with a bit of thread.

‘There are things I need to do at home,' she argued. ‘I haven't swept the floor or cleaned or—'

‘You did those things yesterday. And the day before. You can spare one hour.'

He gestured for her to come and sit astride the log and handed her the draw knife. ‘You'll pull this back across the surface of the wood and smooth out the space you want to flatten.'

She tried it, but when she pushed it forwards, the angle was wrong and the blade caught in the wood. ‘This isn't right.'

‘It's not a downward motion. Pull it towards you.' He motioned for her to get up and demonstrated until curls of wood fell to the ground. ‘Like this.'

A smile played at her mouth. ‘Keep going, Ragnar. You're doing well.' Her sea-green eyes were bright with amusement and, despite her initial protest, she appeared interested in learning how to use the draw knife.

He stopped using the tool and propped his hand upon the log. ‘You think I'll do all the work for you?'

A laugh broke from her. ‘Isn't that what you're doing?'

He held out the draw knife to her. ‘You were the one who thought it needed to be smoother.'

‘You like it rough, don't you?' she challenged. But from the words, his mind abruptly conjured a different meaning. One she'd never intended.

He imagined making love to her against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist while he conquered her. He remembered the way she'd grasped his hand that night in the tent, arching in release when he'd touched her breast.

Rough, yes. He wouldn't mind that at all.

‘Will you show me how to use the draw knife?' she asked softly.

Ragnar hesitated, for it would mean having her sit between his legs in front of him. Being so close to her would be a mistake, especially when she was trying to reconcile with Styr. He didn't want her pressed against his arousal, breathing in the scent of her skin. It would only deepen the temptation.

‘No,' he told her, standing from his place. He walked over to her and stood facing her, so that no one else could hear his words. ‘I don't want you that close to me.'

She gave a nod, but her eyes remained clouded. ‘Nothing would happen, Ragnar.'

Did she believe that? After all the time they'd spent together, she thought he had that much restraint? He'd been going out of his mind over the past few weeks, dreaming of her. When he went to bed at night, he imagined her making love with Styr and jealousy boiled within his veins.

The only reason Ragnar had stayed in Dubh Linn was because he suspected Elena would soon learn that she wasn't pregnant after all.

He had sisters and all of them had borne children. Most had been sick in the mornings, but all had fallen asleep in the middle of the day. His sister Jorga had complained of her growing midsection and she'd burst into tears over something as ridiculous as another woman holding a newborn. He was well accustomed to being around pregnant women and Elena had experienced none of their symptoms.

Her stomach had remained flat and he suspected the worst.

Even more than that, his friend Styr was treating her as if she were a ghost. He hardly spoke to his wife and, no matter how Elena tried to please him, it was clear the man had no interest in her.

‘Go home to your husband, Elena,' he advised. ‘We'll finish building on our own.'

* * *

Elena stared at the wall while Styr sat at the table for the meal she'd prepared for him. It was midday and her mind was filled up with uncertainty. Styr had been distracted all these weeks and he'd shown little joy in the prospect of a child.

No longer did he sleep close to her at night. He slept far away from her and not once had he touched her since they'd left Norway. He didn't love her any more, and he didn't want their baby.

He wanted the other woman, Caragh Ó Brannon.

The knowledge burned through her with a blend of anger and pain. For no matter what she did or said, her husband had fallen in love with someone else.

She took a bite of her own stew, but although the flavour was good, her stomach twisted at the idea of eating. Perhaps it was the child growing within her...or perhaps it was her own anxiety.

The truth shadowed her heart, filling her with unrest. The marriage with Styr had been arranged, yes. They had tried to be happy together. But he'd never loved her, no matter how she tried to change herself.

‘Don't you like the food?' she ventured.

‘It's good.' He tried to smile, but she suspected he would have said the same thing had she served him sawdust.

‘Is there anything I can get for you?' she ventured. ‘I cleaned your armour earlier today.' She didn't like how desperate she sounded, but she wanted conversation from him in some way.

‘No, there's nothing.' He started to clear away the food, but she took it from him.

‘I'll take care of it.' But at the grim look in his eyes, Elena set down the cup she'd taken. She needed to know if the growing distance between them could be healed at all. Was there any chance to bring back the husband who had been her friend? Or was he lost to her, now that he loved another?

He started towards the door, but she asked, ‘Wait. Before you go...'

He paused to look at her and she steeled her courage. If he would not make the first move to ease the tension,
she
could.

Elena moved forwards to embrace him, hoping he would accept the affection. There had been a time when he'd hugged her often, stroking at her braid.

But though he accepted her arms around him, his returning squeeze was hardly there at all. It was as if he were embracing a child, not his wife.

‘I'll see you later,' was all he said when he departed. There was no kiss, no offer for more. He'd become a living, breathing stone with no life in him at all.

Elena stared at the remaining food and his cup. It was hard to catch the breath in her lungs, she was so angry at both of them. When had she become such a meek shadow of a woman? Why was she twisting her life around his, doing everything to please him when he couldn't even be bothered to speak to her?

He doesn't love you
, her mind insisted.
He never did.

Then why stay? Why keep trying to heal a marriage that held so many scars, it bled from the wounds they'd inflicted on each other?

The tears blinded her and she shoved the food and cup to the ground, overturning the table in her fury. She wanted to shatter something, to relieve the dark anger inside. But destroying their home wouldn't accomplish anything. Although the instinct was strong to put everything back in order, she forced herself to walk away.

Outside, the afternoon sun was high, casting brilliant rays over the settlement. Their home was built among the others, and all around were the sounds of conversation, weapons striking shields as men trained, and children running around. She stopped to watch them and at the sight of their young faces, the familiar heartache slid back.

This
was why she stayed with a man who didn't love her. To give her unborn child a father. The idea of raising a baby alone, in a country filled with strangers, terrified her. Were it not for this child, she would divorce Styr.

It was simple enough to do—she merely had to announce her intentions in front of witnesses. She wrapped her hands around her slender midsection, wondering when she would feel the swell of new life. And whether it would change both of them.

It's a lot to ask of an infant
, Ragnar had said. But what other choice was there? To bring this new life into the world without a father? She didn't want to look into her son or daughter's eyes and admit that their father had left them.

Though it destroyed her pride to remain married to a man who didn't want her, she would do what was necessary for this unborn miracle. She had no idea how to win back Styr's heart, but she would try. It was all she had left.

Her mind returned to thoughts of Ragnar. He might know what else she could do, since he was friends with Styr. But unbidden came the memory of sleeping with his arms around her. He had been such a comfort to her, she was grateful to him for his protection and companionship.

But there was more between them, much as she might try to push away the forbidden thoughts. She hadn't forgotten the warmth of his mouth or the stolen touch of his hand against her breasts. She closed her eyes, aware of how wrong it was. And yet...her own husband had turned to another.

Elena forced herself to walk back to the dwelling Ragnar was building with their kinsmen. She needed to see him again, to gain his advice.

If there was any hope of saving her marriage, he might know what to do. Or he could find out.

You just want to see him again
, her mind taunted.

No. He was only a friend. But even as she continued towards the longhouse, she sensed that she would not like the answers he would give.

* * *

Ragnar had spent all afternoon with the hammer, pounding at the beams as the shelter took form. He was grateful for the physical activity, hoping it would exhaust him until he didn't dream of Elena any more. But she returned to the dwelling a few hours later and he couldn't guess why.

‘May I join you?' she asked, coming to sit near him.

He didn't answer, but kept pounding the hammer. His mood was growing even darker and he knew the reason. The woman he loved was married to a man who didn't want her any more. Styr was only staying for the sake of the baby that Ragnar was more and more convinced didn't exist.

‘Do you want a drink of water?' She poured some into a cup, moving closer. He didn't know what her reason was for coming here, but the last thing he wanted was for her to start taking care of him.

When he ignored her, she came closer with the drink, waiting. But when she lifted it towards him, he tossed the hammer aside and pushed the drink away. ‘Stay away from me, Elena.'

Go back to Styr. Go back to your husband and leave me alone.

Her face went white, and she looked so stricken. He realised she had no idea why he was angry. She honestly didn't know the way she tempted him and got under his skin.

‘I'm sorry. I'm in no mood to see anyone just now.' He calmed his anger and tried to push away the frustration.

‘I came to ask for your help,' she said quietly. ‘But if it's not a good time, I'll go.'

He doubted if it would ever be a good time. The longer he stayed near her, the more he wanted her. Ragnar rested his palms upon the wall for a moment, taking the time to regain control of his anger. She wanted his help, did she?

He turned to face her, walking closer while he waited for her to speak.

‘What is it?'

‘It's Styr,' she admitted. ‘Ever since he came back, I don't know what I can do to please him.'

The flush on her face spoke of sharing a bed with her husband. Was she truly asking him what would please a man? No. He couldn't even begin to talk about that. ‘We are
not
having this conversation.'

Her face turned scarlet. ‘No, I didn't mean...that. We haven't—not since the baby.'

Relief crashed through him, though he knew it was wrong. Ever since he'd had his own moments with Elena, the idea of Styr touching her was enough to provoke him into violence. He was jealous in a way he couldn't name and believing that Styr had claimed her body was a torment in itself.

‘He won't even talk to me,' Elena continued. ‘He's so distant, I don't know what to do.'

‘Why do you stay married to him?' Ragnar demanded. ‘If you have no feelings for one another and you don't talk, what reason is there?'

‘He's been good to me,' she said. ‘And there's the baby.'

‘You're not pregnant, Elena.' He couldn't stop himself from saying the words he believed. It had been too long and it was the only strand holding Styr and her together.

Elena's hands moved to her womb and she stood up. ‘Yes, I am. It's been months now. I must be.'

The worry in her voice held enough fear that he wished he didn't have to say this to her. ‘I've had sisters who have had children. If you were truly with child, you would be much bigger by now.' He returned to his hammer, adding, ‘Go and speak with the midwife. She'll tell you.'

It was a cruel thing to cut down her dreams and he knew it. But if he was right, better for her to learn it now, rather than later.

When he turned back to Elena, her eyes filled up with tears. The visible heartbreak made him feel as if he'd just cut her off at the knees. But he wouldn't take back the words.