To Tempt A Viking (18 page)

‘I’ve never seen anyone with such a strong focus,’ Elena said. ‘He does such good work. I think we may be able to find a trade for him, if he has a kind master to show him what’s needed.’

She leaned down and asked, ‘Matheus, are you hungry?’

The boy gave no answer, gliding his hands over the mud. Ragnar went to stand before him and the child never ceased from his undertaking.

‘Come and eat with us,’ Ragnar offered gently. But when he extended a hand, Matheus flinched.

Elena shrugged apologetically. ‘He sometimes doesn’t respond when I ask him to stop.’

It wasn’t at all a good sign, if the boy was disobeying her. But perhaps there was more to it than she’d said. ‘Does he understand your words?’ Ragnar asked.

Elena shrugged. ‘Sometimes. I don’t know what has meaning to him and what doesn’t. He’s calm when he has a repetitive task to complete.’ She didn’t seem too concerned by it.

‘And what if there’s danger?’ he asked. ‘If you call out to him and he disobeys you, he could be hurt.’

Elena sobered at that. ‘I would hope that he’d obey me in that instance.’

Hope wasn’t strong enough. He worried that Elena’s hesitation to discipline the boy might cause problems. ‘You can’t let him decide when he wants to obey you,’ Ragnar warned her. ‘If you are to be his foster mother, he has to learn.’

The boy stood against the wall, peering outside through the crevices. The evening light was fading, but he stared at the sunlight, his hands frozen against the wood.

When he touched the boy’s shoulders, Matheus jerked at the contact and let out a scream. The child’s fingers curled into the wet mud and he began to fight when Ragnar tried to pull him away.

He squirmed and kicked his feet, as if trying to return to the wall. It took hardly any effort to restrain the boy, but when he brought the child to Elena, she appeared uneasy.

‘Let go of his hands,’ she pleaded. ‘You’re upsetting him.’

Ragnar continued to hold the child’s hands firmly, but kept his voice calm. ‘If you keep allowing him to do as he pleases, whenever he likes, you’ll have a terrible child on your hands.’

Gently, he let go of the boy, but the moment he did, Matheus ran back to the wall, his eyes fixated on the outside sunlight. He smeared at the mud and then his screams quieted, almost as if he’d seen something.

‘Wait here,’ Ragnar told Elena, reaching for his sword. He stepped outside and walked around her dwelling, but there was no sign of anyone there. Ragnar shielded his eyes against the setting sun, searching for a glimpse of an intruder. But when he could find nothing, he saw no choice but to return.

The boy was right where they’d left him, his hands pressed against the wood. Elena was trying to coax him away, but Matheus refused to leave.

It was possible that the boy simply wanted to go outside into the sunlight. Ragnar lifted the child into his arms and brought him over to Elena, paying no attention to the boy’s whining. ‘Bring a basin of water. He should wash the mud from his hands before he eats.’

She poured water into a wooden bowl and brought over some sand to scour his hands. Ragnar could tell from her expression that the boy’s dismay was bothering her deeply.

He ignored Matheus’s protests and dipped the boy’s hands in the water, rubbing them with sand. All the while, the child kept screaming and fighting.

Elena’s face appeared even more worried. ‘You’re frightening him. Please...just let him go.’

‘He has to learn that he cannot get whatever he wants, simply by screaming.’

Elena’s soft heart was going to get her into trouble if she wasn’t careful. From the way she was glaring at him, she believed he was being too hard on the child.

‘He’s endured so much. I don’t think—’

‘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 backwards and Ragnar caught her before she could fall. Seconds later, the child ran to the wall and began screaming 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 towards the shoreline. He walked down the wooden docks until they reached the furthest 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 to him means giving him what he needs. Not 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 and she tensed 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.

‘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 that I bore.’

It was obvious that she’d changed her mind. But before he could ask why, she admitted, ‘I thought a child would bring 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.

‘What I did that night when I lay with you... It wasn’t fair. You were right,’ Elena whispered. ‘I
was
using you, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself. You deserve 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

E
lena 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 to 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 right now. She’d apologised for seducing Ragnar, when the truth was, she wasn’t at all sorry. She’d revelled in the lovemaking, perhaps because it had been so forbidden. The feelings he’d conjured 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, for while 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 of feelings that had always been there with a man who understood her in a way Styr didn’t.

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.’

She lowered Matheus from her arms, shielding him with her own body. In his ear, she whispered, ‘Go and fetch Ragnar.’

Instead of fleeing, the child went to sit in a corner, running his fingers over the crevices in the wood. He had retreated inwardly, not looking at her or his father. Likely he didn’t understand what was happening now.

God help them both.

‘Ragnar!’ Elena cried out. She started towards the door, but the man gripped her wrist and jerked her back. Clamping his dirty hand over her mouth, he said, ‘Your man won’t be coming for you. My friends have seen to that.’

Elena tried to scream, but his palm muffled any sounds she made. She fought against him, kicking and twisting her body. He clouted her against the ear and she saw stars, the room blurring all around her.

She struggled to remain conscious when she dropped to her knees. There was a spear on the far side of the room, if she could only reach it. The man kept his hand over her mouth and she couldn’t shout to Matheus or anyone else. Though she tried to bite down on his fingers, his strength made it impossible. He reached for her skirts and her rage erupted.

No. She would
not
allow this man to rape her or make her a victim in her own home. Tangling her feet in his, she used her body weight to knock him backwards. The momentary assault freed her voice and she cried out for Ragnar, screaming as loudly as she could.

The man scrambled to his feet, but Elena brought a stool down upon his head. She lunged for the spear. When she seized it, the man reached for Matheus instead.

A white-hot anger controlled her now and she didn’t care whether this man lived or died. Elena gripped the spear, wondering how she could wield it without hitting the boy.

‘Do you even know how to use that?’ he taunted.

‘I’ll pierce your heart with it,’ she responded, tightening her hold on the weapon.

‘Why would you want my son?’ the man demanded. ‘He’s lacking in brains and his mother should have killed him at birth.’

‘If he means so little to you, then you should be glad that I’ve offered to take care of him.’

‘Not until I have my price.’ He gripped the boy’s throat and Elena saw the terror in Matheus’s eyes. Though the boy couldn’t speak, he understood the danger. His face was white and his expression pleaded with her for help.

‘I’ve been watching you over the past few days,’ the man said smoothly. ‘Waiting for the right moment to slip inside. When
he
wouldn’t be there.’

His gaze moved over to the wall where Matheus had been smearing mud. The boy’s violent screams suddenly made sense. He must have caught a glimpse of his father tonight, when he was trying to block out the crevices in the wood.

Where was Ragnar? She couldn’t understand why he hadn’t broken the door down after she’d screamed. And what did the man mean,
Your man won’t be coming for you
? Was he dead? Had others attacked him?

Elena glanced over at the door, but it was still barred. Though she didn’t want to take her eyes off the man, she had to get help.

In one swift motion, she darted towards the door and raised the bar, throwing it open. To her relief, Ragnar was already moving in, his sword drawn.
Thank the gods.

Blood was streaming down his face and though she didn’t know what had happened to him, he was alive. Elena moved to the side but was taken by surprise when her attacker let go of Matheus and seized her instead. She was helpless to move when the point of the spear jammed against her throat.

‘You’re going to leave her to me, or I’ll kill her before you can take another step,’ the man warned Ragnar.

Elena couldn’t breathe, but in Ragnar’s eyes she saw a man bent upon murder. He didn’t look at her, his gaze focused upon bringing down their enemy. Matheus was behind them and she couldn’t tell if he was out of harm’s way or not.

Ragnar kept motionless, but he never surrendered his drawn sword. Instead, he held it, poised to strike. His other hand moved to a pouch at his waist.

‘Was it silver you wanted?’

Elena couldn’t see her attacker’s face, but his grip tightened upon her. ‘Throw it to the ground and leave.’

‘I’ll only leave when she comes with me. And the boy.’ Ragnar’s voice was deadly calm, his eyes hard.

‘That won’t happen.’

Elena sensed the madness in his words, that this man would not give up his claim upon the boy. He might insist upon payment, but it wouldn’t end with coins. He would continue to make demands, endangering the boy. There was no reasoning with him.

She closed her eyes, knowing Ragnar would strike him down. Her life was at stake, but if he didn’t act, this man would kill her after he’d finished with her.

Do it
, she begged silently.

She kept her eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the inevitable strike.

‘No!’ she heard Ragnar yell. Her eyes flew open and a gasp resounded from her attacker. The point of the spear thrust and Elena cried out, feeling the harsh pain against her throat.

Seconds later, the man fell to the ground. Blood poured from his back and she turned to see Matheus holding his father’s own blade. Tears flowed down the boy’s face and his hands were shaking as he dropped the knife.

By the gods, not this. Matheus had killed his own father to save her.

‘It’s all right,’ Elena murmured to him. ‘You can put the knife down. I’m all right.’

The boy obeyed, sobbing as he threw himself into her arms. It was the first show of affection he’d ever given and she wept against him. She’d never known that he would defend her or recognise that she’d wanted to help him. She kept speaking words of comfort, soothing him as she held Matheus close.

He understood that she wanted to keep him safe, that she wanted to be a mother to him. Though she’d only had him a short time, he’d known that she would not harm him. Her heart broke for the suffering he must have endured at the hands of his parents.

But it was over now.

Ragnar stood by the door, his sword still in hand. She raised her wet eyes to his, but there was tension in his expression. He walked towards them and Elena stood straighter, still holding Matheus against her.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, tilting her chin back to see the cut.

Elena nodded. ‘It’s not deep,’ she reassured him. But he found a cloth and used it to wipe the blood away.

‘He could have killed you.’ His voice was heavy, while his touch remained gentle. Elena went motionless, caught up in the way he was staring at her. She breathed in the scent of him and the urge came over her to bring his mouth down to hers.

‘No, he couldn’t have. You were there to defend me,’ she said.

But when she tried to embrace Ragnar, he held back from them, keeping a stoic distance. Something was troubling him, but he wouldn’t say what it was. Did he blame himself for the attack? Neither of them could have known that Matheus’s father had slipped inside while they were gone. She didn’t fault him at all.

But seeing a dead body on her floor didn’t make the idea of staying here appealing. Not only did this house hold the memories of her failed pregnancy and ended marriage...but now there was death as well. She wanted to start over, some place where she could make a new beginning.

‘I don’t want to stay in Dubh Linn any more,’ she confessed to Ragnar, opening the door to go outside. With Matheus’s hand in hers, she led them both away from the man’s body. ‘I want to leave this place.’ She hardly cared where it was, so long as there were no memories of the past and Ragnar accompanied her. ‘Can you still get a boat?’ She held Matheus at her side and the boy buried his face against her gown.

‘In the morning, we’ll find a ship,’ he promised.

‘Thank you,’ she breathed. ‘And...for tonight, I want to stay somewhere else. Matheus shouldn’t sleep here—not after what happened.’

‘You can stay with our kinsmen,’ he agreed. ‘I’ll find a place for both of you.’

* * *

Ragnar brought her back to his house, opening the door for both of them. Every nerve was on edge, his mind blurred with the fear of losing her. Seeing the spear against her throat had sent him over the edge. He’d been ready to cut down her attacker, the unholy rage filling him up.

But the boy had struck first.

Ragnar hadn’t seen the child cowering behind his father and when he’d swung his sword, the sudden movement had come so fast he’d barely managed to stop the blow. Ragnar’s sword had sliced through the man’s ribs and nearly taken the boy’s head off when Matheus had struck with a blade.

His only consolation was that Elena didn’t know. She’d had her eyes closed and had no idea how close the boy had been to dying. No words could have consoled her if the worst had happened.

He said nothing to her, but inwardly, he was disquieted by what he’d done. He’d been uncontrollable and he didn’t trust himself at all right now.

Several of his friends were playing games and drinking, while others nodded to Elena in greeting. Ragnar brought her to a pallet on the floor against one wall and she set Matheus down, tucking him in while she sat beside him. The boy was trembling and she ran her hand over his hair to soothe him.

Her gentle motion calmed the boy and Ragnar realised that the child was coming to accept her. Though he would never be like other boys, Elena would be a good mother to him. She would love him for who he was, no matter that he was different.

Ragnar retreated from them and asked a kinsman to help him dispose of the body. He didn’t want her home marred by that.

* * *

After it was done, he returned to his own home. He would have to face the
jarl
and pay a body price, but for now, he would stay with Elena and the boy.

Inside the house, she sat beside Matheus, watching over him. Ragnar let them have a private moment together while he centred his own thoughts. But even while he sat on the far side of the room, he never took his eyes off her. Long strands of reddish-gold hair spilled over her shoulders, while she leaned back against the wall.

He saw her hand pass over Matheus’s shoulders and her green eyes caught his in silent thanks. She didn’t know how close she’d come to losing this child at his hands. It haunted him even now.

Elena lay down beside the boy, but she remained restless and didn’t sleep. After several minutes of tossing and turning, she got up from the pallet and crossed the room towards Ragnar. He remained with his back to the wall, waiting for her to speak.

In the darkness he could still see the scrape beneath her chin where the spear had penetrated her skin. It bothered him to know that she could have died this night. Life was a fragile thing, severed at any moment. And perhaps that meant taking command of what he wanted, living each day to its fullest.

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she whispered. ‘Not alone.’

Her hair was tangled about her face, her green eyes luminous. He wanted to kiss her, to feel her body pressed near to his. But he was still shaken by what had nearly happened to the boy.

Elena took his hand and led him away from the others. The men were fully aware of their presence, but no one paid them any heed. She reached out to his cheek and stood on her tiptoes.

‘I just...want you to hold me for a while.’ Her arms wound around his neck and she stepped forwards until he felt the softness of her breasts pressing against him. Ragnar hardened instantly as her female scent caught him with a flare of desire. ‘I was so afraid.’

He breathed in the scent of her hair, knowing he had no right to hold her. And yet he couldn’t move away. Not yet. ‘I will always keep you safe, Elena.’

‘I know,’ she murmured. She pulled back and rested her forehead against his. ‘I hold a lot of regrets inside me,’ she admitted. ‘I never thanked you for saving my life when we were nearly taken captive.’ She stood on her toes and pulled his face down to hers, kissing him.

It took all of his willpower not to ravage her mouth, claiming her the way he wanted to. He let her take what she wanted, allowing the kiss, but not overpowering her.