Michelle Willingham - Forbidden Nights With A Viking

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.

Caragh walked through the neat rows of barley, pulling a few stray weeds. Her brothers had gone out fishing, and she’d busied herself with inspecting the harvest. It would not ripen for another few months, but at least they had the promise of more grain to sustain them. The tribe had planted more, after the seeds Terence and Ronan had brought back from their travels. She hoped that the sun and rain would be kind to them this season, allowing them to restore their losses.

Despite the countless hours she’d spent working, it did nothing to diminish the heartache. She’d let herself love Styr, and it burned to know that once again, the man she’d cared about had chosen someone else.

She strode through the fields, hastening her pace. It wouldn’t do to dwell on it any more. She’d known from the beginning that he was not free to be with her. As she crossed through the open meadow, she shielded her eyes to the morning sun. There was her brothers’ boat, moving out to sea. And to the east…another ship.

She frowned, not recognising it at first. Was it the fishermen returning to Gall Tír?

But when she saw the striped sail, her stomach plummeted. The Lochlannach had returned. For what purpose? Were they invaders or was it Styr’s ship? Neither was particularly welcome.

She hurried down to the shore, grasping her skirts. Some of the elderly Ó Brannons were busy scraping hides while others prepared meat for drying. Caragh went out as far as she dared, peering hard at the water. And when she saw the bronze weathervane of Styr’s ship, her tension didn’t diminish.

Why had he come? Was he wanting to settle here with his wife and later, their children? The thought of seeing him each day with Elena filled her with a crushing pain. A part of her wanted to flee, to hide where he wouldn’t find her. But then, she wasn’t a coward. She might not know why he had returned, but she would stand here and face him.

She sat upon a large stone on the water’s edge, waiting. His ship drew closer, until at last, she saw him tying up the sail, steering closer to land.

He was still as handsome as she remembered, his dark gold hair tied back. The weather had grown warmer, and he wore no armour this time.

And then he saw her waiting. His stare locked with hers, as if remembering the night they’d shared together.

Caragh studied the boat but saw that he had come with only two men. Elena was not with them.

If she could have shielded her heart with stone, she would have. Styr had left her behind, choosing the woman he’d married and their unborn child. There was nothing that would change that.

He strode through the water, moving towards her. The waves sloshed around his thighs, but he ignored the frigid water. ‘We need to talk,’ he said.