Harlequin Historical February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Major's Wife\To Tempt a Viking\Mistress Masquerade (39 page)

* * *

Throughout the walk home, she continued to tell him about where they were going and what would happen. In her arms, she felt him shudder. The longer he held his silence, the more she doubted if he was even capable of speech.

Agata stopped before her own home and said, ‘I have some clothes that my boys outgrew, if you're wanting some for him.'

‘I'd be grateful.' Elena met her friend's gaze. ‘And I am glad you brought me to him.' Though she hardly knew the child, if she had come only minutes later, he would have been dead. She cringed at the thought of it.

Agata nodded. ‘I'll bring the clothes soon while you take him home and give him a meal. You might also ask for help from Ragnar tonight.'

Though she faltered at the idea of asking him, she recognised that she might indeed need help. Ignoring the woman's suggestive look, Elena said, ‘Thank you for the clothes.'

She continued walking back to her own home, but there was no need for Agata to send for Ragnar. He was already there, waiting for her. When he spied her holding the boy, a questioning look came over his face.

‘This is Matheus,' Elena said. ‘He's going to be my son now.'

At the incredulous look in his eyes, she sent Ragnar a warning look. ‘We will talk more after he's had a meal and I've tucked him in to sleep.'

Chapter Fourteen

R
agnar opened the door for Elena, wondering why she'd gone back for the boy. But then, it was clear that this child had been hurt before, from the multiple bruises on his skin.

It was like looking at a younger version of himself. And when she met his gaze, he knew precisely why she'd brought him back.

‘Where are his parents, Elena?' he asked quietly.

She sent him a narrowed gaze that told him she'd reveal more later. The determination on her face was that of a mother lioness, ready to defend her newest charge. Gently, she lowered the boy to stand, but he backed away from both of them.

Elena let him be and she turned to Ragnar. ‘Will you warm some water for me? Agata is going to bring over some new clothes and I want to see about any other bruises he might have.'

The boy was shaking hard, his face pressed against one of the walls as if he wanted to fit inside it. He was terrified, unable to express himself.

Ragnar knew exactly what that felt like. But he had a feeling Elena had underestimated Matheus. She wasn't prepared for a child who had been violently hurt. But he put aside his doubts for now.

He lifted the heavy iron pot and brought it to fill with water. Agata came by a moment later and handed Ragnar the clothes. Beneath her breath, she murmured, ‘His mother tried to drown him. Elena saved the boy's life.' With a conspiratorial smile, she added, ‘She'll need your help this night.'

The boy had nearly been murdered? His blood turned to ice and when he stared at the child, he realised that Matheus's wet hair and sodden clothing had nothing to do with bathing.

Elena had saved this child. Just as she'd tried to save him, when his own father had beaten him.

Ragnar took the clothes from Agata, thanking her, and lifted the heavy pot with his other hand. He moved without thinking, his mind caught up in the horror of what this boy had endured. After he hung the pot over the fire to heat, he gave the clothing over to Elena. Although it was likely the clothes would be too large for the boy, they were clean and better than the wet rags he was wearing now.

When Elena reached out and touched the boy's shoulder, he let out a howl and began crying hard. A moment later, his sobs turned into screams.

There was a steel calm beneath Elena's expression, as if she'd expected this. ‘Bring me some of the warmed water with soap and a cloth.'

Ragnar didn't argue, though he suspected this would only be the first incident of many. The boy was now curled up into a ball, his shudders overtaking him.

Though he didn't know how Elena had taken Matheus away from his parents, he didn't blame her at all. He only wished he'd been there to confront the man and woman who had done this to a child.

He gave Elena the soap and a cloth, dipping warmed water into a small wooden bucket. ‘Do you want me to stay or go?' He suspected the boy might lash out at her if she tried to touch him.

‘I would be grateful if you'd stay,' she said. She walked over to the boy, ignoring his crying as she sat down a short distance away.

‘You've had a terrible day, Matheus,' she said to him, dipping the cloth in the water. But as she spoke, she caught Ragnar's eyes. He saw the compassion in her and the gentleness in her voice drew him to stand closer.

He'd come back to her, his body aching from the fight earlier. One more competition would bring him enough silver for a boat. When he glanced down at his hands, he realised that they were still stained with his opponent's blood. He didn't even know if the man was alive.

He'd tried to kill a man today, while Elena had saved a child. The contrast between them was so great, Ragnar was tempted to leave them at this moment. But he'd made a promise to stay.

‘I want to help you,' she said to Matheus. And though Ragnar knew the words weren't meant for him, he sensed that she'd wanted to do the same for him, when he was an adolescent. But some wounds couldn't heal.

The child behaved as if he hadn't heard a word that was spoken. When Elena reached out for his hand, she washed his palm and hand with the cloth. His crying quieted, as if he'd never felt warm water before. Though Matheus didn't look at Elena, he reached out for the bucket and touched the surface of the water. An expression of startled awe came over him.

‘It won't hurt you,' she said again, reaching for his other hand. Gently, she washed his skin while he experimented with touching the water and submerging his hand.

In Elena's sea-green eyes, Ragnar saw a woman who had waited all her life for a child. The boy allowed her to wash the dirt from his face and hands, and when she brought over the clean tunic, Matheus touched the soft wool as if he'd never felt such a texture before.

‘Will you bring him some food?' Elena asked Ragnar. ‘I think there's some bread and meat left over from this morning.'

He washed the blood from his hands first, his mood sombre. While he gathered the food, he kept his gaze upon the pair of them. Elena's hair was matted, but there was a new softness to her face. She watched over the boy, as he played in the water. And in this moment, Ragnar realised how very deeply she'd wanted a child.

Her husband should have found someone for her to foster, long ago. It might have bridged the rift between them, if she'd had someone to look after. Everything about Elena had focused inward, shifting her attention to caring for someone else. But although she had given the boy nothing but kindness, not once had the child looked at her. All of his attention was focused on the textures of the wool and the water.

Ragnar brought over the rest of the bread, along with some cold mutton and boiled eggs. Elena sliced a piece of the meat and offered it to the boy. When he stared at it and only held it, she had to put it to his mouth before he tried a bite. Once he tasted it, his expression transformed again. Ragnar half-expected the child to begin devouring the food, but instead, he tasted each bite as if he'd never eaten anything like it.

He could see Elena struggling to hold back tears. She, who had wanted a child for so long, would have given this boy everything. And yet the gods had given Matheus to parents who would sooner kill him because he was different.

When at last the boy had his fill, she guided him up to her own bed and tucked him under a blanket. Matheus began crying again, curling up on his side. He kicked off the blanket, his bare feet hanging off the edge. Elena tried to put the blanket over him again, but he fought it, as if fearing she would smother him with the wool.

‘It's here if you want it,' she told the boy. But though his sobs had quieted, it was clear that he would not sleep for a while.

Ragnar didn't know what to say. Elena's demeanour held such worry, but she didn't approach the boy, granting him space.

He knew he should leave now. But something held his feet in place. Without warning, Elena turned and embraced him, burying her face against his neck. ‘Thank you for being here. It helps.'

‘I haven't done anything,' he protested. But he couldn't stop himself from bringing his arms to her waist, idly stroking her spine. The light scent of her hair smelled of soap and an herb he didn't recognise.

She never failed to take his breath away. He rested his mouth against her hair, wanting to kiss her. And yet he forced his hands to remain where they were.

‘You've given me support,' she admitted in a whisper. Eyeing the boy, she added, ‘I can't imagine why anyone would want to kill a child.'

Ragnar thought back to his own father and the beatings that had come from a man half mad with grief. Fermented brews had become his father's comfort and he'd often forgotten about his son. There were no reasons for the violence; only a sense that Olaf had been lost in the moment.

‘You were good with the boy,' he said. ‘Matheus will come to trust you in time.'

She shrugged, drawing back to look at him. ‘I want to believe that. But he's never known what it is to be safe from harm. It may take a very long time for him to believe that I want to give him a home.'

She was likely right in that assessment. But an idea occurred to Ragnar, one that might quiet the boy's weeping. ‘Wait here,' he suggested. The boy might not trust either of them yet, but there was another way of granting him comfort.

* * *

When he returned, Elena was startled to see a squirming puppy in Ragnar's hands. The dog was milky white in colour and his ears flopped against his face.

‘This might help,' he offered. He went to sit upon her bed, still holding the pup in his hands. Matheus rolled over. When Ragnar placed the animal beside him, the boy's tears ceased and he curled up with the animal.

It was exactly what the child had needed, though Elena knew Ragnar wasn't aware that the boy had lived with a dog. Her heart softened at the sight of the pair of them together and she was grateful that he'd brought the puppy.

‘Where did you get him?' she asked Ragnar.

‘There was a litter born a few weeks ago. I traded for one of the pups.' He came to sit across from her at the table. In time, the boy fell asleep and only then did Elena begin to relax. Her mind was spinning with confusion, for everything had happened so fast.

Even so, she didn't regret saving the boy. He would have died if she hadn't thrown the door open and stopped the woman. And now he belonged to her.

The interior of her house was warm from the fire and Ragnar brought over some of the leftover meat and bread. ‘You haven't eaten.'

She couldn't have imagined eating—not after all that had happened thus far. ‘I was distracted,' she admitted, thanking him for the food. Ragnar broke off a piece of the bread and handed it to her. The slight touch of his hands was another distraction. She found herself aware of his firm mouth, remembering how he'd kissed her.

Without knowing why, she reached for the bread and broke off another piece, feeding it to him. Her fingers brushed against his mouth and he caught her hand.

A warning look flashed in his eyes, as if he wanted her to stop. His entire body went rigid and a swirl of hunger caught her.

Elena thought of her conversation with Agata earlier.
If you've the desire to take him to your bed, that's your choice.

‘I should go,' Ragnar said.

She didn't want him to. But when she stood and approached him, she grew aware of the fresh bruises upon his jaw and the scabs upon his knuckles. A pouch was fastened at his waist and she knew what had happened.

‘You were fighting today.' She stood before him and touched the fresh wounds. He didn't deny it and if she spoke a word against it, she suspected he would go.

Elena pulled her stool beside him and the weight of silence hung between them. She leaned her head against his shoulder, fully aware that he had no desire to be here.

‘There was a time when I could tell you anything,' she said, keeping her voice low. ‘When we were younger, I always went to you. Not to Styr.' She reached out to his hand and said, ‘I don't like the way you're so angry with me now.'

When he didn't answer her, she laced her fingers with his. For a long moment, neither spoke. But eventually, he let go of her hand and his arm curled around her waist. ‘I'm not angry with you.'

‘Let it be the way it was,' she whispered. ‘I won't ask anything from you, I promise.'

But don't go
, she wanted to say. The thought of him leaving her was an invisible blow, a wound that would never heal.

She didn't know what her feelings for Ragnar were. After the end of her marriage, she'd reached out to him in desperation and discovered that beneath the need for human comfort was something more.

Feelings that had been there for years, buried deep.

In his arms, Elena was too afraid to speak, for fear that he would go. A single misstep might send him away and the thought made her bereft.

‘What are you going to do with the boy?' he asked.

‘Take care of him as best I can.' So long as Matheus was fed and protected, he would be fine.

‘Fostering a child isn't easy alone,' Ragnar warned.

‘I know.' She stood and went to stand over the boy's bed. Matheus was curled against the puppy and the new clothes Agata had given him were too large against his bony frame. The urge to embrace him came strong, but she only smoothed his dark hair. In spite of his troubles, he'd already taken a piece of her heart.

Ragnar came to stand behind her and she took comfort in his presence. ‘I'm not fostering him, Ragnar,' she corrected. ‘I'm adopting him. He has nowhere else to go.'

She turned to face him and his dark green eyes stared into hers. ‘If that's what you want.'

It was. Her mind was in turmoil, for her life had turned upside down in a matter of hours. She didn't know what would become of her, but she intended to be this boy's shield, to keep him safe from the world if that was what was needed.

Elena let out a breath and went to gather furs to make a pallet upon the floor. Ragnar was watching and she stood a short distance away before she unfastened the brooches at her shoulders.

‘What are you doing?' he asked in a low voice.

She didn't answer, but removed the outer apron, leaving her gown in place. When she turned back to him, she said softly, ‘Take off your armour. There's no need for it.'

He removed the chainmail and set aside his sword. But in his eyes, she saw wariness, as if he expected her to demand more from him.

Elena went over to the furs and curled up on them. ‘Sleep beside me, Ragnar.'

She waited, wondering if he would join her. When he held back, she rolled over to her back. ‘I won't ask more of you than that.'

He sat upon a low stool, watching over her. ‘If I lie beside you,
søtnos
, I'll demand more than you want to give.'