Harlequin Historical February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Major's Wife\To Tempt a Viking\Mistress Masquerade (40 page)

Chapter Fifteen

R
agnar's days fell into a pattern, but there was a new restlessness. He'd continued to guard Elena and Matheus, but although she cooked meals for him and he slept in her home at night, he didn't touch her. Instead, her proximity was a slow burn to his senses.

She asked nothing of him except that he stay with her. At night, she lay upon the pallet and talked to him long into the night until he longed to kiss her into silence.

He hadn't touched her, but that didn't mean he didn't want to. The hunger and need to possess her grew stronger with each day until he was driven to fight more. Anything to release the physical demands within him.

This morning, he accompanied Elena and Matheus into the marketplace, but he was well aware of the eyes upon them. He had made many enemies, both the men he'd defeated and those who had lost wagers. Ragnar kept his hand upon his sword hilt, never taking his eyes off the unseen threat.

When Elena and the boy had finished with their purchases, he stopped on the way back to watch the fighting. Two men circled one another, wearing light armour and wielding battleaxes. The shorter man was faster, while the larger opponent swung his axe as if he intended to behead his challenger. Ragnar had defeated both of them in earlier matches.

Matheus was stopping to pet a cat who was weaving in between his legs. Elena released the child's hand and turned back to Ragnar. ‘Let's go back.'

He sensed her discomfort and regarded her. ‘I almost have the silver I need. If you've changed your mind about returning to Hordafylke...'

She looked stricken at his words and shook her head. ‘I haven't.' Then she guided Matheus away from the cat, leading him back.

Ragnar stood behind them, guarding the pair as they returned to the dwelling. Elena kept the boy's hand in hers, while he kept his palm upon her spine to show that he was their protector.

* * *

When they reached the bridge, Elena stopped suddenly, glancing behind her. ‘Do you sense that we're being followed?'

Ragnar shook his head, but there were so many people in the crowd, it was impossible to tell. ‘Even if we are, I won't let any harm come to you.' He took a glance behind them, but nothing struck him as out of the ordinary.

‘There was a man I saw in the marketplace earlier. He was watching Matheus, and I thought I saw him again just now.' She moved closer to Ragnar's left side, still holding the child's hand. ‘Stay beside me,' she bade Matheus.

With her other hand, she reached for Ragnar's palm, but he put his arm around her shoulders instead. If they were being followed, he wanted it clear to others that she was under his protection.

He guided them back from the marketplace, past the quadrants of longhouses. The scent of peat smoke lingered in the air and he marked the faces of the people passing by. Still, there was nothing to suggest a threat.

When they reached Elena's dwelling, Ragnar held out his hand. ‘Wait here first.' Before he allowed them to enter, he searched the interior. Again, there was nothing out of place.

The boy knelt down while the puppy scampered forwards, licking Matheus's fingers. Ragnar closed the door behind them and Elena appeared relieved to be home.

He studied her a moment while she put away the food and drink she'd purchased at the marketplace. Though her behaviour was ordinary, he sensed that she was upset.

He decided to steer their conversation back towards the boy. ‘Matheus seems to be adapting well.'

She nodded, lowering her voice as she moved closer. ‘But he never looks at me. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows who I am. And he doesn't like it if I try to hold him.'

Ragnar supposed that was due to the abuse the boy had suffered with his parents. ‘What else have you learned about him?'

She motioned for him to sit down. Although she told him about Matheus's likes and dislikes, he sensed that Elena was holding back more.

‘He likes to draw patterns in the dirt,' she finished. ‘Each night he makes a new picture for me.'

As if to illustrate her words, the boy bent down to the earthen floor and began tracing lines with a stick. Each line was even with the previous one and Ragnar realised that Elena didn't care that Matheus was unlike the other boys, nor did she feel he had any less value. Instead, she saw beyond his problems and found his strengths.

The dark yearning for her caught him like a fist. If she belonged to him, he'd reach across the table and kiss her hard, drawing her back to their bed.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?' she whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear.

Because he wanted more from her. Not just a smile or a stolen moment together. He wanted her at his side, though he knew he didn't deserve her.

He gave her no answer, but stood up when he saw a shadow cross the window. Although it could have been anyone passing by, his instincts rose up. Ragnar stood and went closer, his hand upon his sword hilt.

‘What is it?' Elena asked.

He didn't know, but he strongly suspected it had to do with Elena's earlier fears that someone was following them. ‘Wait here,' he commanded. ‘And bar the door behind me.' No one would threaten them—not if he could help it.

He opened the door and hastened to follow a man who was walking quickly towards a throng of people. The figure had no distinguishing features—from the back, his hair was a dark blond and he wore no colours to set him apart. But the fact that he was hurrying was reason enough to pursue him.

Ragnar pushed his way through the crowd until he caught up to the man. ‘Wait,' he ordered, catching him by the arm.

The man stopped, a questioning look on his face. ‘I don't know you.' His words were spoken in a calm tone, but his eyes shifted, as if searching for a means to escape.

‘No, but you stopped at my house. I want to know why.' Ragnar didn't let go of the man's arm, waiting for an explanation.

The man glanced around him for a moment and shrugged. ‘I didn't know it was yours. I only wanted to look in at my son.'

His
son? Ragnar tensed, studying the man's features and realised that they were similar to Matheus's. ‘Your wife tried to murder him a few days ago,' he pointed out.

The man's face set in a line. ‘So I heard. He's not good for much, but my blood runs through his veins. I wanted to see how he was.'

Although it was a father's right to ensure his son's welfare, Ragnar didn't trust the look in the man's face. He didn't appear at all remorseful over his wife's actions. ‘He's well enough.'

With that, Ragnar started to walk away, but the man called out, ‘If we allow you to keep Matheus, we deserve compensation in some form.'

So this was the man's reason. Ragnar turned back, keeping his temper shielded. ‘We saved his life. You'll get no compensation from us.'

A sly look crossed the man's face. ‘I could accuse the pair of you of kidnapping him. It would be my right, as his father.'

‘And I could accuse your wife of attempting to drown him,' Ragnar countered. ‘Let the boy go and be on your way. If you wanted to be rid of him, you are. And he's better for it.'

‘I want gold,' he said. ‘A body price for the son I've given up.'

Rage boiled inside Ragnar. How did this man dare demand coin in return for a child? He closed his hands over the man's throat and slammed him against the wall of a house. Slowly, he closed off the man's air, lifting him off the ground. He waited until the man's struggles diminished, before he dropped him.

‘There. You can have your miserable life as compensation. But if you come anywhere near Elena again, you'll lose it.'

One week later

Blood was streaming from Ragnar's temple and his jaw was swollen. Every muscle in his body ached, but he'd won his prize of silver. It was enough.

‘What's happened to you?' Elena demanded, when he came inside. The boy was in the corner, playing. Before Ragnar could give her an answer, she predicted, ‘You fought again, didn't you?'

‘And won.' He tossed a heavy leather bag on to the table. Over the past few weeks, he'd earned a reputation as a ruthless fighter. He'd defeated every last opponent until now there were few who would challenge him.

‘I don't know why you've come to me,' Elena shot back. ‘Were you wanting me to heal your cuts and bruises, after I asked you not to fight?' She tossed a linen cloth at him. ‘If you won't listen to me, you can heal your own wounds.'

Ragnar leaned in close, dropping his voice low. ‘You're not my wife,
søtnos
. I don't have to answer to you.'
He took a step forwards and she retreated. ‘I fought because I wanted to.'

‘I thought you said you had enough silver for the ship. Or was it not enough for you? Will you keep fighting until they bring your broken body back to me?' Her cheeks were crimson and she looked as if she wanted to strike him.

‘I intend to make my fortune, regardless of the means.' Though it meant pushing his body to the limit, he no longer cared.

‘Silver doesn't matter to me,' she argued. ‘It never has.'

‘It mattered to your family,' he pointed out. He remembered all too well the way her father had looked down on him. And although Ragnar's skill in fighting had improved, his wealth had not. He was hardly more than a mercenary, living by his sword.

‘And you think that I judged you the way my father did? You think I'll want you more if you have more silver?' Her face turned incredulous. ‘What kind of a woman do you think I am?'

‘One who deserves a good provider.' Elena's outburst took him by surprise, for he hadn't meant to imply that she was greedy.

‘All you want is to be rid of me,' she accused. ‘You've been fighting for silver these past few weeks, because you're trying to send me back to Hordafylke.'

His anger exploded. ‘I've been fighting these past few weeks because if I don't, I'll hurt you.'

She stilled, confusion clouding her face. ‘You would never lift a hand against me, Ragnar.'

‘You're wrong.' He moved forwards, pressing her back against the wall. With his voice low, he said, ‘You tormented me every day of the past five years when I watched you go to his bed. And after you shared mine, I've thought of nothing else since.'

She averted her gaze and he murmured in her ear, ‘Every night, I sleep away from you because if I don't, I won't be able to keep my hands off you. You're a hunger I'll never be able to sate. And fighting takes the edge off.'

Her breathing had grown unsettled and he moved away from her, knowing he'd frightened her. He shouldn't have come, especially since the raging desire hadn't abated at all.

‘Wait,' Elena whispered. She reached again for a cloth and dampened it with water, washing the blood from his temple. He held steady, noticing the green of her eyes and the softness of the lips he wanted to claim. Right now, he didn't want to remain patient. He wanted to seize the moment and take what he wanted.

She dipped the cloth in cool water again and began sponging at his other cuts and bruises. The touch of her hands was gentle and she stood so near, his arousal was almost painful.

‘I don't want you to die,' she said, rinsing away the blood at his temple.

‘I wouldn't have died, Elena.' He couldn't believe the dismay in her voice. She'd seen Styr and him sparring all the time.

‘But you could have been killed,' she insisted. ‘And you will die, if you continue fighting for no reason at all.' She tossed the cloth down on the table, and her shoulders rose with the heat of her anger. ‘I asked you not to.'

‘Do you think I'll hide behind a woman's skirts with no means of earning my way?' It had hardly been a fighting match at all. He'd easily defeated his opponent but had left the man alive.

‘Do you even care about your life?' she demanded.

He sobered and reached out with his knuckles to caress her face. ‘Do you?'

The stricken look on her face caught him low, in the gut. In her eyes, he saw fear and worry, revealing her feelings. ‘Yes,' she whispered. ‘I care a great deal about you.'

In silent response, he leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. God help him, he didn't know what to say or do now.

When Elena touched her hand to his heart, he stole a kiss, claiming her mouth. She kissed him back and he tasted fear upon her lips. Not only fear for his safety, but a slight tremble of what was happening between them. But now was not the time to act upon it. Not with the boy here.

Ragnar glanced around at the house. The interior of Elena's home, normally immaculate, was in complete disarray. The bedding was unmade and there were dishes still on the table. He'd paid no heed to his surroundings until now and her cheeks flushed. ‘I'm sorry about the mess. We were...busy working on the walls today.'

Young Matheus was smearing mud into the wicker crevices. He gave no indication that he'd heard any of their conversation.

Ragnar leaned in and asked, ‘Have you seen any sign of the boy's father since last week?' When she shook her head, he added, ‘I've asked some of our kinsmen to help me keep watch over this house. I don't think he'll return.'

But although he spoke the words to reassure her, he still didn't trust that the man would leave Elena alone. Matheus's father was far more interested in personal gain than his son's welfare.

‘I hope not,' she whispered. ‘And besides that, you're here.'

Her words sent another fierce ache within him, to take her down upon the pallet and claim her. He was itching to touch her, to palm her breasts and taste them until she arched in ecstasy.

By the gods, he needed to leave her before he gave in to the dark needs.

To change the subject, he asked, ‘How is Matheus?'