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