To Tempt a Viking

‘We’re almost there.’

Thank the gods for that. It seemed to take an hour before he finally reached the tiny shelter she’d built of fallen limbs around a thick tree trunk. At first, it appeared crude, a mass of large branches and leaves. But as she eased him down, he realised it was wider than it appeared. The structure was circular, with stout branches as supports and smaller, more flexible limbs woven between them.

‘How did you ever have time for this?’ he questioned.

Her face flushed and she shrugged. ‘I kept returning to check on you, but you were sleeping. It seemed like a better use of my time.’

The wind was increasing and he eased backwards until he was inside the shelter. Elena tended the fire and adjusted the roasting meat until the fowl was fully cooked.

He’d never smelled anything so good in his entire life. When she broke off a piece, she blew on it before bringing it to him. He tasted the meat and found it delicious.

‘Styr is a fortunate man,’ he remarked. Though he kept his tone even, it was far more than the food. It was the way she had laboured over the shelter, managing to build something of this complexity in a short amount of time. ‘I don’t think he realises half of what you do for him.’

The look in her eyes turned startled, as if she’d never expected him to say such a thing. Perhaps it was the belief that he might die that caused him to speak so freely.

‘I am his wife. I want to make his home comfortable.’ She ate but no longer looked at him.

Ragnar knew that in the past few months, Elena and Styr’s marriage had suffered. Her barrenness had taken its toll upon her, and Styr had confided their troubles. It had put Ragnar in an awkward position. He’d urged Styr to talk to Elena, but he was torn between wanting them to reconcile...and wanting the marriage to end.

He was such a selfish bastard. What good would it do, if she and Styr parted ways? Elena would never turn to him. She knew his darkest secrets, of the vicious adolescence he’d endured...and the violence that still dwelled beneath his skin. He knew better than to think she would consider someone like him.

As the wind grew stronger, Elena moved deeper within the shelter and pulled out a panel he hadn’t noticed. It had been disguised amid the other branches, but it formed a door. Almost within seconds, the rain began to pour down over the shelter.

But they didn’t get wet. He stared up and realised that she’d layered the leaves so thickly that they were fully protected from the storm.

‘You did well, Elena,’ he complimented. ‘I suppose you’re tired from the work.’

She nodded. ‘A little. How is your leg?’

‘It hurts. But it’s not nearly as swollen as it was before.’ The wound ached, but the pain was more bearable.

‘I’ll try to find some garlic bulbs or other herbs to draw out the poisoned blood,’ she promised. ‘When it stops raining.’

‘In the morning will be soon enough.’ He finished eating and an awkward silence descended between them. She wouldn’t look at him and he realised that she was still embarrassed by what she’d done.

‘I’m sorry for what I said before.’ He leaned back against the structure, well aware of how close she was. ‘I know you meant nothing by the kiss.’

She let out a heavy sigh. ‘Thank you for that. I don’t know why I did it. It was truly just to keep you conscious.’

He studied her. Though the rain had extinguished the fire outside their shelter, in the dim space, he caught a shadowed glimpse of her beautiful face. He wished he could admit the truth, that the softness of her kiss had caught him stronger than any blow might have. She tasted of innocence, and dreams that would never be.

‘We will find a way to return,’ he said to her. ‘I’ll bring you back to Styr, once my wounds heal.’

She nodded and as the rain poured faster, she moved across to him. ‘I’m afraid for him. Even though we had our differences, I don’t want him to die.’

When she leaned against him, he brought his arms around her. She was quiet, but he could feel the dampness of her cheeks as she silently wept.

‘We’ll find him,’ he said to her. ‘I promise you that.’

She sniffled again, and then admitted, ‘There’s another reason why I’m afraid. It—it’s the moon.’

He didn’t understand what she meant and waited for her to elaborate.

‘When we left Norway, it was a full moon. It’s gone through all of its phases and almost a second phase.’

She sat up, then, though he could not see her face as the night grew darker. ‘I—I haven’t had my woman’s flow since we left Norway, Ragnar.’ There was tremulous hope in her voice as she admitted, ‘I think I may be pregnant at last.’

* * *

The night had been brutal. Visions and dark dreams haunted him, his body burning with fever. He was hardly aware of anything, except Elena offering him drinks of cool water.

He didn’t want to admit the possibility of death, but he would not lie here and yield quietly. He’d vowed to bring Elena back to Styr.

‘Elena,’ he muttered, his voice sounding like a growl, ‘we can’t stay here.’

‘We don’t have a choice.’ She moved beside him, as if to lend the physical comfort of her presence. ‘You have to rest to heal.’

He sensed the fear in her voice, but he refused to dwell on the chance of death.

‘To return to Styr, you must go southwest along the coast. Keep the morning sun to your left side and—’

‘I’m not leaving you,’ she interrupted.

‘If I don’t heal, you must go.’ The last thing he wanted was for her to suffer beside him, starving in the middle of nowhere. Already, his stomach was roaring with hunger.

‘You aren’t going to die,’ she insisted. ‘Your wounds are much better. Though I imagine you’re half starving, since you’ve been asleep for so long.’ She drew back the door of the shelter she’d made. The sun blinded him, and he glanced down at his wound.

Although it was still painful, it wasn’t nearly as swollen as he’d expected. Elena had made a poultice of garlic bulbs and he wondered how many times she’d changed it during the night. His entire body reeked of garlic. It was a wonder she could stand to be near him.

She brought him a bowl of stew and Ragnar questioned when she’d had time to make it. Within the hot liquid, he tasted rabbit and other vegetables. ‘Has it only been one day since we arrived on this shore?’ he asked.

Elena shook her head. ‘We’ve been here for three days. Your fever was terrible and I didn’t know if you’d awaken. I tried to feed you as best I could, but...it was difficult.’

Three days? It seemed impossible that the time had passed so swiftly. And yet he could not deny the truth of what he saw. The edges of the wound had begun to close and it wasn’t nearly as hot to the touch.

‘I was glad to find the garlic,’ Elena continued. ‘My mother told me it was good for healing wounds and she was right. I crushed up some of it.’

‘I smell terrible,’ he admitted wryly. But if it had kept him alive, it was well worth it. The question now was whether he was capable of walking again.

Slowly, Ragnar eased himself out of their shelter and used her help to rise to his feet. With only a little weight on the wounded leg, it wasn’t too bad.

Elena looked weary from the past few days but was no less beautiful. Her red-gold hair was braided back into a single tail and it brought into sharp relief her pale skin and heart-shaped face. Her green eyes studied him with relief.

‘In another few days, you’ll be fighting other battles,’ she predicted. ‘Though the scars will remain.’

‘All warriors bear scars.’ It was a physical reminder that they had conquered death, defeating their enemies. ‘But I owe you thanks for my life.’

She shook her head. ‘You saved mine on board the ship. You owe me nothing.’

‘No. I swore a vow to Styr,’ he reminded her. A vow he’d made to protect her. Although they were alive, he needed to bring her back to the ringfort settlement.

‘I know you’ll heal and we’ll find him, as you said,’ she promised.

His gaze moved down to her flat stomach, remembering what she’d told him about her pregnancy. Elena saw the direction of his attention and flushed slightly, moving her hand over her womb. ‘I’m surprised I haven’t felt sick so far.’

‘Not every woman suffers during the early months,’ he remarked. ‘My sisters never did.’

Her mood lightened and he saw the hope in her eyes. She had wanted a child for so many years.

God help him, he was jealous of Styr. He wished that Elena were his wife, that she were pregnant with his child. He wanted to awaken beside her, reaching over to feel the babe move within her skin.

He forced himself to walk, ignoring the dull pain in his thigh. The worst of the danger was over; he’d live. But with every day that passed, he wanted Elena more than ever. She was an obsession he couldn’t abandon and all women paled beside her.

Why, by the gods, did she have to belong to his best friend? If she were with any other man, he’d damn the consequences, claiming her as his own. She was a desperate craving he needed to satisfy. When he glanced back, he saw the peaceful expression on her face, for she believed she would finally have the child she wanted.

An honourable man would be glad for her. She would return to Styr and this babe would heal the breach between them. No longer would she suffer in silence; she had achieved her greatest desire.

Ragnar stopped walking, staring down at the water below them. The grass was damp from earlier rainstorms, but now the sun warmed the earth. He didn’t know how they were going to make it back, but likely their best course of action was to travel along the coast. If they happened to see ships, they could try to hire one to take them back.

‘You shouldn’t push yourself too hard,’ Elena warned. ‘You need to regain your strength.’

No, what he needed was space away from her. A chance to clear his head so he wouldn’t give in to the instinctive urges taunting him.

Ragnar reached down for a fallen branch, using it to help support his weight as he moved across the field. A faint noise caught his attention and he stopped, listening hard.

Elena frowned. ‘Did you hear something?’

He nodded, pointing further inland. ‘It was coming from over there.’ Leaning against the staff, he continued his pace, moving towards the sound. It was as if a large group of people was approaching.

Her face broke into a smile. ‘Thank the gods. They’ll have food and supplies. I think we’re saved.’

But as the sounds grew louder, he realised what he was hearing. These people were fleeing, not travelling. Dozens of men, women and children were running across the plains, while behind them, he spied men pursuing them on horseback.

Warriors with weapons drawn, ready to strike them down.

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