For a moment, Ragnar simply stood there, watching her. Then, almost without realizing it, he began to move. And the closer he drew, the clearer the truth became. He had come dangerously close once again to losing everything. His wife and his unborn child.
His child.
Ragnar could hardly believe it. He was going to be a father. Circe was carrying his child. The realization filled him with a kind of joy he had never known before, something immeasurable, something that swelled within his chest until it felt as though it might burst.
Slowly, he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. He leaned toward her and gently trailed his fingers along her arm. The touch was meant to be tender and loving. The urge to gather her into his arms burned fiercely within him, to hold her close and never let go, but he forced it down. A part of him felt unworthy of even that small comfort.
