Michelle Willingham - To Tempt a Viking

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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