Читать книгу Forbidden Nights With A Viking - Michelle Willingham, Harper St. George - Страница 20

That night, Elena held his hand as they walked along the shore. ‘I’ve seen the woman before,’ she said quietly. Though her tone remained even, he knew she’d seen them embracing.

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

‘She took you as her captive, didn’t she?’

He nodded, hardly caring what Elena suspected. Right now, he was haunted by the look in Caragh’s eyes when she’d learned of the baby. It infuriated him that he had come to resent this child. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair.

‘Do you…have feelings for her?’ His wife’s voice was heavy, filled with accusation. And what could he say? That he’d fallen beneath Caragh’s spell until he could think of no woman but her? That he didn’t want to remain here any longer, and it was killing him not to go after her?

‘Why would you ask me something like that?’ He avoided Elena’s question, adding, ‘I only knew her for a week.’

‘I have eyes, Styr. I saw you with her.’

‘She left with her brothers. I told her farewell.’ He shrugged it off as if it were nothing. As if the gnawing hole inside him didn’t exist.

‘You were embracing her.’

He spun, confronting Elena. ‘Nothing happened between us.’ Liar, his conscience retorted. He’d betrayed her in countless ways, worst of all last night.

His temper threatened to flare up, but he suppressed it. Hadn’t he stayed? Countless other men would have taken Caragh as a concubine, but he’d remained loyal to his wife.

‘Then why are you so angry?’ she shot back. Her eyes pierced through him, discerning the truth. ‘If she were nothing to you, you wouldn’t be acting this way.’

The familiar coolness slid over her expression as she collected herself. Styr had no response, for anything he said would reveal his frustration. Instead, he redirected the conversation. ‘I heard from Onund that you jumped from the ship to escape.’

She inclined her head. ‘We were attacked by the Danes and there was only one chance to escape. Ragnar helped me reach the shore.’

‘Both of you could have died,’ he said.

‘I wasn’t about to let myself be sold into slavery.’ Her green eyes welled up, and she admitted, ‘This might be the only baby I’ll ever have.’

He sobered, letting out a slow breath. For a long time, he didn’t speak but stared out at Caragh’s boat disappearing in the mist. Guilt filled him up, and he deserved the aching loss of her. Finally, he spoke. ‘Do you know how long I searched for you? I thought you had died.’

Elena stood behind him so he could not see her face. ‘I didn’t think they would let you live, either.’ She moved closer, standing by his side. ‘But I’m glad you returned.’

The awkwardness stretched between them, and he didn’t know what to say. He turned to walk back to the beach, letting her follow.

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Several days. The Danes wounded Ragnar, but he kept me safe.’ A flush came over her cheeks at the mention of the man. ‘We found food and built this shelter.’

A memory flashed through Styr, of Caragh’s struggle to survive. She’d nearly starved without her brothers to help her, and he wondered if there were enough supplies to see them through to the harvest. He hadn’t forgotten her unbridled joy when he’d helped her find fish. Or the way she’d embraced him in her happiness.

It occurred to Styr that he hadn’t greeted his wife properly. Not once had he welcomed her with an embrace, when he owed her that. He turned, intending to take her in his arms, but when he reached towards Elena, she instinctively backed away.

‘What are you—?’ Then she seemed to realise his intent and apologised. ‘You caught me unawares.’ She leaned in, offering a slight hug. Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. But the gesture rang false, as if she’d felt obligated.

To change the subject, he 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 slim stomach. ‘It seems so strange to think of a child growing inside me.’

As she continued to talk about her pregnancy, his thoughts grew distant, his mood sombre. He wouldn’t abandon Elena now, not while she needed him. Perhaps when the child was born, it might mend their broken marriage, making it easier to care for her again.

But as he walked back with Elena, he couldn’t help but wish it was Caragh who was pregnant with his child.

Three weeks later

Elena wasn’t a fool. She knew her husband had feelings for the Irishwoman. Oh, he’d been polite and respectful, seeing to her needs and comforts. But he might as well be gone. At night, he lay beside her, but he never tried to touch her. He kept a slight distance between them, and the longer it went on, the lonelier it was.

At least she had the baby to console her. A third month had passed with no bleeding, and she was positive that there must be a child. But it bothered her that her body remained slender, her breasts the same size. Shouldn’t she be changing more than this? Instead, she felt nothing at all.

They had settled just south of Dubh Linn, near some friends of her mother’s, but the threat of the Danes lingered. Elena had never felt quite safe here, and she was grateful for Ragnar’s presence when Styr was away. At least he listened to her and didn’t utter one-word responses.

This morning, Styr had gone to the marketplace, leaving her behind. She had cleaned every inch of their house, sweeping it four times. The table and chair were tidy, and she had begun digging a garden, ensuring that each row was perfectly straight, one hand-width apart.

But despite her efforts to maintain order, she could do nothing to change her husband’s mood. She had no doubt at all that he’d fallen in love with the Ó Brannon woman, from the way he was pining for her. And though he swore he’d never touched her, that her accusations were unfounded, Elena might as well have been married to a stone.

She’d prepared Styr’s favourite foods, arranged for his armour to be cleaned, and had done everything to make his life comfortable. But he hardly noticed any of it.

Ragnar was busy working upon his own house, and she hoped to speak with him. She knew very little about what men wanted from a wife. Perhaps he could help.

But the longer she stood near him, the more he continued wielding a hammer, pounding the beams into place.

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

He said nothing, but from the way he continued hammering, she could tell that his mood was even worse than Styr’s. She came forwards to offer him a drink of water, but he tossed the hammer to the ground, pushing the drink away.

‘Stay away from me, Elena.’

She was so taken aback by his anger, she didn’t know what to say. Before she could leave, he wiped his brow upon his sleeve and apologised. ‘I’m in no mood to see anyone just now.’

‘I came to ask for your help. But if it’s not a good time, I’ll go.’ She didn’t understand what was bothering him, but she knew better than to press him. He rested his palms upon the wall for a moment, taking time to calm his temper. When he faced her, she grew nervous, seeing the dark look in his eyes. Perhaps it wasn’t wise to ask advice from him.

Ragnar let out a breath and walked to stand before her. ‘What is it?’

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

A tightness invaded Ragnar’s expression. ‘We are not having this conversation.’

She flushed. ‘No, I didn’t mean…that. We haven’t—not since the baby.’ By the goddess, why was she even talking about it? But the words spilled forth as if they were waves, crashing forth against her will.

‘He won’t even talk to me. 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.’

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

‘I’ve had sisters who have had children. If you were truly with child, you would be much bigger by now.’ He stood and returned to his hammer. ‘Go and speak with the midwife. She’ll tell you.’

A bleakness spread over her at the thought. Her eyes filled up with tears, and she hugged her waist. ‘If there’s no baby—’

‘Then you have no reason to remain wed to him. Let him go, Elena. You’ll be happier for it.’

She got up to leave, feeling as if someone had cut her in half. Her eyes burned as she made her way to the door, before a hand pulled her back.

‘Come here,’ Ragnar commanded, drawing her into an embrace. His arms came around her, pulling her face against his. The kindness broke her apart, and she let the tears fall. Throughout the worst nightmare of her life, he’d been there, never faltering in His friendship.

‘I’ve already lost him, haven’t I?’ she wept.

‘You haven’t lost me.’ His hand smoothed her shoulders, and she clung to him.

Elena was grateful for his presence, but the idea of divorcing Styr seemed wrong. She wasn’t ready to give up on their marriage. Not so soon.

When he returned to his house that night, Styr found Elena huddled in their bed. He couldn’t tell if she was asleep or whether she wasn’t feeling well, but it was early yet.

But when he moved closer to see her, her eyes were rimmed with red, and she’d been weeping for some time now.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

She shook her head, drawing back the coverlet. ‘The baby.’

Fear shot through him, that she’d miscarried the child. But when she moved to sit up, her posture slumped over. ‘I was wrong,’ she said dully. ‘There never was a baby. I began bleeding today.’ A sob broke from her, and she continued, ‘The midwife said…sometimes a woman doesn’t have her moon time, if she faces peril or times of fear.’

There were no words to console her, but Styr drew her into an embrace. To his surprise, the loss of the child hurt more than he’d thought it would. Elena wept against him, clinging hard as she admitted, ‘I wanted this so much.’

‘I know.’

‘And I haven’t been a good wife to you. Not the way I should have.’ She drew back, gesturing towards the house. ‘I tried to keep everything orderly. But it wasn’t enough.’

‘I never cared about the house.’ He kept her in his arms, understanding that her tears were about more than the baby.

‘You wanted to travel across the seas,’ she said at last, leaning her head against his heart. ‘And I never let you go.’

‘I knew you didn’t want to travel with me. And if I was away, you couldn’t conceive a child.’ He shrugged it off, for it didn’t matter.

‘That was your dream, not mine,’ she admitted. ‘I should have given you my blessing, but I was too afraid to be alone.’ She reached up to touch his cheek, and offered, ‘I still love you, Styr.’

Her words hollowed out another piece of him. After all these years, she deserved the words in return. But before he could say them, she covered his lips with her hand.

‘Don’t say it. I’ve known you too long, and that isn’t what you feel for me. Not any more.’ Another tear broke free and rolled down her cheek. She smiled through her tears, adding, ‘We had some good years together.’

‘We did.’ He smoothed back her hair, a harshness rising in his throat. ‘And we’ll have more.’ It was a hollow promise, but the best he could do. It was strange to be grieving the loss of a child who had never been conceived.

But perhaps he was grieving the loss of what there had once been between them.

Elena captured his hand and stood up from the bed. In her eyes, he saw the heartbreak. And amid the pain, there was a glimpse of the woman he’d cared about.

‘Will you walk with me?’ she asked. There was hesitancy in her voice, as if she were suddenly nervous. He nodded, still holding her hand.

The gown she’d worn was fitted to her slender form, and a dark blue apron hung over it, pinned at the shoulders. Her reddish-blonde hair was braided, with several strands hanging loose around her face.

He opened the door for her, and though it was past evening, it was not dark. She kept her hand in his, leading him towards Ragnar’s house.

‘He’ll finish it in another few days,’ Styr predicted. His friend had built the house and several of their kinsmen lived with him. It surprised him that Elena would lead him here, to a house filled with men. Her despondent mood made it more likely that she would want to be alone to weep.

When they entered, the men were seated at a long table, a feast of meat and ale spread before them. Styr greeted Onund, Ragnar, and the others, but Elena caught their attention, raising her hands.

‘There is something I would ask of you,’ she began. The men turned to listen, and Styr had no idea what her intention was.

‘I ask you to bear as witnesses.’ Her sea-green eyes locked on to his, and she faced 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 let go of his hand, and shock roared through him when she pronounced, ‘I divorce you, Styr Hardrata. In the presence of these witnesses.’ Three times she repeated the declaration, leaving him stunned.

He wasn’t the only one. The other men were as startled as he, and none of them knew how to react. She’d not told him anything of her intentions, giving him no means of arguing.

Without another word, she left the longhouse, returning to the house they had once shared.

Styr followed her, hurrying until he’d caught up. ‘You think to divorce me? Just like that, with no word of explanation?’ He was furious with her and embarrassed that she’d done it before so many witnesses, leaving no doubt of her intentions. ‘Why? I thought you wanted to try again!’

She held the door open and waited for him to enter. He slammed it behind him, and she sat calmly upon a footstool.

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

‘Did I make you that miserable?’ he shot back.

‘Yes!’ She stood up again, facing him down. ‘And don’t tell me I didn’t do the same to you.’ Her hands were trembling, but her green eyes were furious. ‘You tried. Both of us tried, but you were never happy. It doesn’t have to be this way.’

She turned away, admitting, ‘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.’

He couldn’t bring himself to deny it. But the anguish in Elena’s face was echoed by regret in his own heart. Without a word, he touched her shoulders, embracing her from behind.

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

He couldn’t imagine what courage it took to give her blessing, after what she’d endured. ‘What about you?’

Elena moved in his arms to face him. ‘I’ll stay here, for now. I don’t know where I’ll go after that.’ She shook her head, and he dried her tears.

Leading her towards the bed, he bade her sit down. Instead, she chose the floor, leaning back against the raised straw pallet. He came and sat beside her.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t the husband you needed,’ he admitted at last.

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

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

‘I’ve already done it, Styr.’ She managed a smile through her tears. ‘I don’t need your permission to declare it before witnesses.’ Leaning her head against his shoulders, they sat for a few moments, and he understood how difficult it was for her to let go of their years together.

Then he remembered the gift he’d brought for her. He stood and retrieved the ivory comb from his belongings. ‘I bought this for you, before we left Hordafylke.’

She studied it, noting the image of Freya. ‘It’s beautiful.’ She ran it through the strands of her hair, trying it out. Then she held it in her hands, sharing the memory of the day they were wed and of how afraid she’d been.

During the next few hours, they reminisced over the years of their marriage, laying each one to rest. They talked long into the night, until her voice grew hoarse, and his eyelids grew heavy.

And when he awoke in the morning, Elena was gone.