To Tempt A Viking (11 page)

But Styr was in love with someone else, enough that he was grieving for the loss. Elena had no hope of winning him back. Not now.

‘Come here,’ Ragnar commanded, drawing her into an embrace. He pulled her close, not even caring who saw them.

She started crying and admitted, ‘I’ve already lost him, haven’t I?’

‘You haven’t lost me,’ he said. Nor would she, even after all this. He refused to feel guilty about offering her comfort. Her tears dampened his tunic, but he didn’t care at all.

When she finally left, he suspected that she would indeed seek out the midwife. And regardless of the answer, it wouldn’t change the fact that she was still in love with Styr.

* * *

She hadn’t gone to see the midwife. There had been no need.

After she’d begun bleeding that afternoon, Elena knew that Ragnar was right. There was no child and never had been. The realisation had drowned her in sorrow and she’d remained in bed the rest of the day, staring at the wall. Styr found her there and the interior of their house was dark, the fire burned down to only coals.

Though she’d cleaned up her earlier mess, she hadn’t bothered to prepare anything for an evening meal. When Styr walked inside, he paused a moment and stared at her, seeming to sense that something was terribly wrong.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

Elena shook her head, pulling back the coverlet upon their bed. ‘The baby.’

The baby that had never existed. Even speaking the words made her grieve. It had broken away a piece of her heart to think that her greatest dream had never come to pass. She was still barren and might always be.

Styr was staring at her with such fear, she forced herself to tell him all of it. ‘I was wrong,’ she admitted. ‘There never was a baby. I began bleeding today.’

The raw pain wrenched a sob from her and she couldn’t stop herself from weeping. ‘Sometimes a woman doesn’t have her moon time...if she faces peril or times of fear.’

And certainly she’d endured that. Still, she’d never before missed her menses and she’d had every reason to believe she was with child. It made her question if she’d offended the gods or done something to deserve this barrenness.

Styr’s arms came around her and she gripped him hard, still crying as she said, ‘I wanted this so much.’

‘I know.’ His voice was heavy and she knew that he truly was sorry for her. He might not love her, but he did care. She clung to him and in that moment regretted the times when she’d pushed him away. Especially the times when he’d wanted to share her bed and she’d refused him.

It was just that she’d been so caught up in the desire for a child, after a time there was no joy in being together. That was her fault, not his.

‘And I haven’t been a good wife to you. Not the way I should have.’ Not only because of the moments she’d spent with Ragnar, but...everything.

‘I tried to keep everything orderly,’ she continued. ‘But it wasn’t enough.’ She now understood that he didn’t care at all about whether their home was clean and organised. He’d never understood that it was her way of taking command of one aspect of her life, since she couldn’t control her ability to bear children. It had annoyed him, though he’d never said it.

Elena stared at her husband, at his dark blond hair and the sadness in his eyes. Styr was a good man who deserved to be happy. She’d seen the way he’d looked at the Irishwoman—it was as if he’d lost the best part of himself. It had hurt, knowing that he had never loved her like that, not once in all five years.

‘I never cared about the house.’ He rubbed her back and the gesture of comfort somehow made everything worse. She didn’t want his kindness now. Anger and frustration she could bear...but not the man who had once been gentle and tender.

‘You wanted to travel across the seas,’ she said. ‘And I never let you go.’ When there was dissent over who would become the next leader of their tribe, he’d taken her away from home rather than fight against his older brother to become
jarl
.

She’d been afraid to travel, for she hated sailing. But she’d gone with him to éire in a last effort to make him happy. Perhaps if she’d let him follow his own dreams, to sail across the seas to distant lands, he might not have resented staying at home.

‘I knew you didn’t want to travel with me,’ he said. ‘And if I was away, you couldn’t conceive a child.’ He raised his shoulders in a shrug as though it meant nothing that she’d held him back.

‘That was your dream, not mine,’ she said. ‘I should have given you my blessing, but I was too afraid to be alone.’

A sliver of fear reached down her spine, making her question her courage now. She didn’t want this life any more. She didn’t want to live in the shadows as the wife he’d kept for reasons of honour, not love.

She wanted a man to look at her the way he had looked at Caragh.

For a moment, she pulled back to look into her husband’s eyes. This man had remained at her side for so long, allying their families together. But he didn’t love her. He never had.

It hurt more deeply than any pain she’d known, but the truth was there, before her eyes. He hadn’t wanted to return to her. He’d been happy with the Irishwoman in a way he’d never been with her.

She needed to let him go.

Elena reached up to touch his cheek and admitted, ‘I still love you, Styr.’ Her heart remained heavy, wishing there was a way to mend the broken years between them.

Her husband didn’t answer at first, but Elena didn’t want lies or words of reassurance. ‘Don’t say it. I’ve known you too long and that isn’t what you feel for me. Not any more.’ She couldn’t stop the tears that ran down her cheeks, knowing how much she was about to lose. Five years had been so long.

Her words hadn’t been a lie. She
did
love him enough to do what was necessary now. And that meant making the decision to end this marriage and set him free. A tremor resonated in her heart, for he would be so angry with her. But it was the only chance they had at happiness.

‘We had some good years together,’ she whispered, through a smile she didn’t feel.

‘We did.’ His hand came to stroke her hair and there was a thickness to his voice. ‘And we’ll have more.’

No. No, it was too late for that. He was grieving, not only for the loss of a child they’d never conceived, but for Caragh—the woman who had utterly captured his heart.

Her courage faltered a moment, but Elena knew this had to be done now, before she could change her mind. It was the best course of action for both of them.

‘Will you walk with me?’ she asked, hoping he would not guess what she was about to do. Her nerves were unsteady, but he nodded, holding her hand.

Elena led him towards Ragnar’s house, knowing that this was where they both needed to be. Here, among friends, they would make a new beginning. She could only pray that Styr wouldn’t despise her when it was over.

Glancing at the structure of the longhouse, she could smell the fresh thatch and wood shavings. She ran her hands over the surface of the logs, knowing that Ragnar had laboured for many hours.

‘He’ll finish it in another few days,’ Styr said.

Elena didn’t answer, but opened the door, her heart pounding wildly. Inside, Ragnar was seated with their friends at a long table. He was dressed in a leather tunic and leggings, his rough-cut brown hair framing a strong jaw and dark green eyes.

Those same eyes fixed upon her and in them, she saw a hunger. She froze a moment, caught up by the intensity. Then a moment later, he responded to something his kinsman said and Elena was left to wonder if she’d imagined it all.

Roasted pheasant and boar were on large platters, along with pitchers of ale. The men had been telling stories and laughing, but some of their discussion died down when they saw Styr and her.

Her heartbeat was pounding so fast, her ears were ringing. She knew her husband was curious as to why she’d brought them here. He might believe it was to spend time with their friends, but she had a different purpose in mind.

You must do this
, her conscience insisted.

‘There is something I would ask of you,’ she said quietly to their friends. She had their full attention now and Styr’s as well. He gave a slight nod and her heartbeat pounded faster. A roaring sensation filled her ears, but she continued. ‘I ask you to bear as witnesses.’

Though she didn’t want to look into her husband’s eyes and see the anger, Elena forced herself to meet him squarely. She raised her voice so that everyone could hear her, but her gaze remained fixed upon him. ‘I have been wedded to Styr for five years now. In that time, I have been barren and it is unfair of me to bind him in this marriage.’

She released his hand, her heart crying out as she said clearly, ‘I divorce you, Styr Hardrata. In the presence of these witnesses.’

Thrice she spoke the words, until it was done.

Chapter Eleven

S
tyr appeared stunned at her proclamation and no one spoke in the house. When Elena caught a glimpse of Ragnar’s reaction, his expression, too, was unreadable. Whether or not he cared, she could not say.

Better to leave now and let them believe what they would. She walked outside, returning to the house she’d shared with Styr. A lightheaded sensation rippled through her. It was done now.

He would not have admitted defeat, but she loved him enough to let him go. There was no sense in holding on to something that was never meant to be.

She heard his long strides approaching from behind her. ‘You think to divorce me? Just like that, with no word of explanation?’

He gave her no opportunity to answer before he lashed out again. ‘Why? I thought you wanted to try again!’

But there was no sense in trying, when his heart belonged to another. Whether or not he would admit it to himself, she could see it.

‘We don’t belong together, Styr. We never did and the gods refused to give us children.’

It was a possible reason, though she didn’t truly believe that. In her heart, she suspected the fault had always been with her.

‘Did I make you that miserable?’ he demanded.

‘Yes! And don’t tell me I didn’t do the same to you.’ She stood, facing him with anger of her own. Whether he’d meant to or not, he’d made her unhappy every time he’d looked at her with disappointment. Every time he’d held his silence, while she’d done her best to make him love her.

In the end, she couldn’t force him to have feelings for her. And she was weary of trying to shape herself into the woman he wanted instead of the woman she was.

Elena gripped her hands together to stop them from shaking. ‘You tried. Both of us tried, but you were never happy. It doesn’t have to be this way.’

At least, not for him. He had a woman who adored him. A woman whom he wanted...and she would never forget the sight of them embracing.

‘I saw the way you looked at her, Styr. I saw the way she held you. She loves you. And you love her, the way you never loved me.’

She wanted to cry again, but instead it was a resonant pain that squeezed her heart. When he came up behind her and held her, it was not the embrace of a man who regretted what she’d done. There was thankfulness in it.

He never would have divorced her. He would have lived out the rest of his life, dreaming of someone else he could never have. And for that reason, she’d made the right choice. At least one of them could be happy now.

‘I want you to go to her,’ Elena said softly. ‘Marry her, if she’s the one you want. And perhaps you’ll have the sons I could never give you.’

‘What about you?’ He spoke quietly, but there was compassion in his tone.

‘I’ll stay here for now. I don’t know where I’ll go after that.’

He dried her tears and took her hand in his, leading her to sit down. Instead of choosing the bed, she sank down to the floor, leaning against the raised pallet. Styr sat beside her.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t the husband you needed.’

It was strange that he should be the one to apologise. Both of them had made mistakes, but she’d never expected him to say so.

‘It wasn’t terrible,’ she assured him. ‘There were some good moments.’

The early years had been awkward, but sweet. He’d tried to be a good husband, bringing her gifts and building her their own house. It had been a comfortable life, even if he hadn’t loved her.

‘Is this truly what you want?’ he asked. ‘A divorce?’

Asking her this now was hardly worthwhile. ‘I’ve already done it, Styr.’ She forced a smile past the tears. ‘I don’t need your permission to declare it before witnesses.’

Even so, she softened the words when she leaned her head against his shoulders. Silence fell between them, but it was no longer a silence filled with anger or regret. It was a wistful moment, of a marriage that had ended.

Styr stood after a time and went over to his belongings. He searched through them, before he retrieved something small, hiding it in his palm. ‘I bought this for you, before we left Hordafylke.’

He revealed a small ivory comb with the goddess of Freya carved upon it. She took it, recognising it as a token of forgiveness between them. She combed her hair with it, then held it in her hands. ‘It’s beautiful.’

It was such an unexpected gift and she knew it would be the last. As she studied the ivory, she decided to share the memories of their marriage. For there had been good moments between them.

‘I was so afraid on the morning of our wedding. So many women warned me that I wouldn’t like our first time together. I thought you would be rough with me.’ She managed a furtive smile. ‘I should have known you’d never do anything to hurt a woman.’

‘No. And I still never wanted to hurt you,’ he admitted. ‘Even when I met Caragh, I remained faithful.’

‘But she makes you happy, the way I never did.’ She reached out to touch his heart, knowing it was the truth. It embarrassed her to say it, but she wanted him to leave this night with no guilt. It had to be a new beginning for both of them.

‘You made me happy, too. In a different way.’ He held her close, stroking her hair. ‘I want you to wed again. Not an arranged match, like ours was. But to a man of your choosing.’

Likely, he thought that would make her feel better. She had no doubt that he would find Caragh Ó Brannon and wed her, as soon as he could. But she had to decide what to do with her own life.

She didn’t want to return to Hordafylke. There, she would have to explain to the others that she’d divorced Styr and why. Despite the fact that it was her decision, she didn’t want to see their looks of pity.

Styr began talking about memories of their marriage that he’d enjoyed. Moments when they’d been younger, still learning about what it was to be man and wife. But she recognised it for what it was—sympathy. He was trying to make her feel better, to ease the blow to her pride.

She let him talk, even offering her own thoughts from time to time. But inside, the restless feeling grew. Her pride was shredded and she felt the impulse to do something rash. The urge was kindled even higher, with the reckless need to feel as if someone wanted her.

She couldn’t remain here with a man who didn’t want her, reliving the memories of a failed marriage. If she stayed, she would succumb to the tears of humiliation. She needed to leave right now. Though she could not wander the streets of Dubh Linn, she knew exactly where to go. Ragnar would never turn her away.

A sudden tension took hold in her stomach as she remembered the forbidden touch she’d shared with him. The caress that never should have happened. And yet it had left her reeling with desire.

Styr was starting to fall asleep and she urged him to lie down. He did and Elena remained seated on the floor. Once he was asleep, she stepped outside their home. It was long past midnight, but she wasn’t tired at all. The restlessness had evolved into a yearning. Though she didn’t know what she would say to Ragnar when she got there, she wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted him to make her feel as if
someone
wanted her, even if her husband no longer did.

He was a good friend, a man she trusted.

She only hoped he wouldn’t turn her away.

* * *

Ragnar jerked awake as a woman’s mouth touched his. It was Elena who had slipped beside him. He knew it from her scent and the shyness of her kiss.

‘What you are doing here?’ he demanded in a whisper. It was only hours before dawn and several of his friends and kinsmen were sleeping around them.

She said nothing at first, though her body was pressed beside his. Her hands came up to his face. ‘Don’t send me away. I can’t sleep in my own house this night.’

He was surprised she hadn’t sent Styr away. After she had announced the divorce, Ragnar had expected his friend to return. The longer the hours had crept on, the more he’d wondered if perhaps Styr had argued with her to change her mind.

‘He’s going back to the Irishwoman,’ Elena said softly. ‘With my blessing.’

Pain laced her words and when she burrowed her face against his chest, Ragnar knew he could not force her to go. She needed a sanctuary and he could give that to her now.

‘I’ll find a bed for you,’ he whispered, starting to sit up.

‘No.’ She pulled him back down and lay face to face with him. ‘I want to be with you this night.’

Her meaning became clear when she pulled him back for another kiss. This time, a very different emotion cracked through him. She was tentative, trying to coax a response.

Her warm mouth moved against his, her tongue touching the seam at his lips. The raw desire to claim her, to conquer the lips that had tormented him over the years, was stronger than he’d ever known.

But he knew why she was here. And it wasn’t because she wanted him. The dark truth was undeniable—she was using him to forget about her husband. She’d come to him, wanting an escape. And although his body was rejoicing in it, his brain was raging.

Ragnar kissed her back, but not as a gentle lover would. No, he became the aggressor, ravaging her mouth. She mistakenly believed that he would give her what she wanted. But he refused to be a substitute for the man she desired in her bed.

He fully intended to frighten her away, but instead she let out a shuddering breath, meeting his tongue with her own. She was aroused by this. He could sense it in the way her skin warmed beneath his hands and the way her back arched.

Her fingers pushed through his hair and his body hardened as she thrust her tongue against his. He could take her here, without anyone knowing of it. It was a matter of lifting her skirts and sliding between her legs. She would allow it, for that was why she’d come. He could silence her moans. The idea of joining with the woman he’d loved for so long was a dark temptation.

But she doesn’t want you
, the voice of reason reminded him.
She’s using you to forget her pain.

The more Ragnar thought of it, the angrier it made him. He didn’t want to be her escape. If she had come to him because she’d genuinely cared, that might have changed his mind. Instead, he broke away.

‘You don’t want this, Elena.’

Her breathing had quickened and she traced her fingers over his cheek. ‘Yes, I do,’ she whispered. ‘This has been the worst night I’ve ever endured and you were the only one I wanted to be with.’

God help him, but he wanted to believe it. In the shadowed darkness, he took her hand and led her to sit up. ‘Come with me.’

Ragnar didn’t want her here, not surrounded by so many kinsmen. He led her back outside, to the small lean-to where he’d stored grain and hay for the animals. The space was dark and enclosed, with no one to see them.

When he pulled the door closed, her hands came around his neck, pulling him near. ‘Make me forget all of this,’ she pleaded.

He tasted the desperation in her lips, mingled with the yearning of a lonely woman. If he were a cruel man, he’d take her offering. Tonight he would finally taste her skin and know the pleasure of loving her.

But he wasn’t that man. And he didn’t want his first moment with Elena to be like this.

‘No.’ He stepped back, and the cold night air spiralled between them. ‘You’re not thinking clearly right now.’

‘I don’t want to think at all.’

‘I won’t let you compare us,’ he said harshly. He didn’t care how stark the words were. ‘I don’t want to be the man you use, for the sake of forgetting your troubles. You’re better than that, Elena.’

She let out a heavy sigh and reached for his hands. ‘Ragnar, I didn’t mean it in that way.’

‘You did and you know this.’ He pressed her back against the wooden wall, letting her feel his arousal pressed against her. ‘If you want me, it won’t be because you want to drown out the memories of another man. Especially when that man is my friend.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. She leaned her cheek against him, and added, ‘It’s just that...he never really wanted me. It was duty and a means of conceiving a child. Never out of joy.’ She lowered her head. ‘I always thought there was something wrong with me.’

The scent of her skin and the temptation of her flesh were starting to unbind his good intentions. ‘Look at me,’ he commanded. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you. You were two good people who weren’t meant to be together.’

‘Then who am I meant to be with?’ she asked. ‘I can’t feel things the way a normal woman would. I didn’t enjoy my marriage and there weren’t any children to bring joy to it.’

He reached a hand up to her face and felt the presence of tears again. Freya forgive him, but he hated to see her cry. ‘Don’t,
kjære
. Not with me.’

He leaned in to kiss her, wanting only to reassure her. But her hands slipped beneath his tunic to touch his bare skin. She stroked his lower back and the touch tore apart his sense of responsibility.

She helped him remove the tunic and her hands moved over his skin, learning him. ‘Why did you never marry, Ragnar? Any woman would be glad to call you her husband.’

Because he couldn’t have
her
. Elena was the one woman he’d ached to possess. Though his body wanted to claim her now, he knew it would damage what there was between them.

‘Do you want me to take you back?’ he asked, ignoring her question. He wasn’t going to bare his thoughts before her, not so soon.

‘Not yet.’ Her hands moved away from him and she stepped back. There was a rustle of fabric and then she admitted, ‘I wasn’t intending to use you tonight, Ragnar.’

‘If you had, you’d regret it, come the dawn,’ he said.

‘Perhaps. But I wanted you to know...when you kiss me, I feel beloved.’ She leaned in to embrace him and he inhaled sharply when her bare breasts touched his chest. Gods above, she’d let her gown fall to her waist. He could feel the taut buds of her nipples and at that moment, he lost sight of every shred of honour.

She had come to seduce him—that much was clear. But tonight he refused to let her direct him.

‘This is your last chance to leave,’ he said quietly, drawing his hands over her bare back. ‘If you stay, you’ll do as I command. And I’ll claim your body, whether you will it or not.’