Читать книгу Forbidden Nights With A Viking - Michelle Willingham, Harper St. George - Страница 13

‘Don’t ever try something like that again,’ Styr warned. His fury was teetering on the edge, barely contained. While it may have been only a kiss, one meant to fool her brothers, the dishonourable act enraged him. How did she dare to throw herself at him, pretending that they were lovers?

Caragh blanched at his tone, apologising quietly. ‘I know my brothers. They drew wrong conclusions from Kelan’s words. I was afraid they would harm you.’

‘I can defend myself,’ he reminded her. Using his full height, he glared down at her. ‘I have no need to justify my actions to them. You took me prisoner. I was only trying to return to my wife.’

He saw her flinch at the mention of Elena. Good. She needed to remember that he wasn’t a man she could use upon a whim.

You didn’t have to kiss her back, his conscience reminded him. You could have pushed her away.

And that was the splinter that dug into his guilt, blistering his rage. If he hadn’t dared to continue the deception, he would never have known what it was to be kissed by Caragh. He had reacted on impulse, only to be stunned by the physical response he’d never anticipated. But there was no one to blame, save himself.

Right now, he wanted to plunge his head into icy seawater, to clear away the confused thoughts. He wasn’t a man to be unfaithful. In all his five years of marriage to Elena, never once had he looked at another woman. Honesty and loyalty meant everything to him. He would never forsake his wife, no matter how one woman’s kiss had affected him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, ‘but my brothers aren’t forgiving. They won’t harm you if they believe that we mean something to one another. That you are a man of honour.’

‘I am a man of honour,’ he shot back. Though it didn’t feel like it now. He turned his back on her and waded into the frigid sea, welcoming the wind that tore through his chainmail corselet, soaking his hose against his skin.

But Caragh’s kiss haunted him, in the way her soft lips had melted into his, like a taste of sweet honey. She’d lost herself, clinging to him when he’d kissed her back.

While Elena had accepted his embraces, she’d always seemed uncertain—almost unwilling to kiss him. He’d tried to be gentle, but he’d never been able to fully enjoy himself, for fear of hurting her.

Whereas this woman had eagerly opened to him, her tongue touching his. Her breasts had pressed against him as she’d wrapped her arms around his neck, yielding sweetly.

No doubt it was the celibacy coming back to haunt him. He’d left Elena alone for a time, while they’d prepared for the journey. She’d suffered such terrible seasickness, he hadn’t bothered her then, either. Over and over, he replayed the image of his wife’s face and the sadness in her eyes. And he cursed himself for daring to kiss another.

Styr busied himself with preparing the boat, needing the activity to push away the errant thoughts. No longer would he think of how good it had felt to be in Caragh’s arms. He would maintain his distance from her, and lock away the dark cravings she’d evoked.

When she climbed aboard the ship, her skirts were sodden. He should have offered to carry her, but he had been unable to touch her. His willpower was shredded to a weak thread.

She set the basket on the far end, choosing a seat on the opposite side of the boat. When her brothers joined them, he learned that Terence was accustomed to sailing. The man took the side rudder to steer them east while Styr took his place with the oars. He pulled hard, letting the mindless exertion consume him.

Ronan took the place behind him, rowing in rhythm. ‘I don’t believe that either of you are in love,’ he said, beneath his breath.

‘You’d be right,’ Styr admitted, keeping his voice low. It was a relief to admit the truth to the man. Glancing behind him, he added, ‘Caragh took me by surprise with that kiss.’

‘Our sister has a soft heart, and she thought we were going to kill you for sharing her hut.’ Ronan pulled hard against the oars. ‘It’s still a consideration.’

Styr said nothing, knowing there was no good reply to that.

‘It’s a simple matter, Lochlannach,’ Ronan continued. ‘Hurt our sister, and we hurt you.’

‘I would expect nothing less.’ He understood a man like Ronan, determined to protect his sister. ‘But Caragh and I are hardly more than strangers to each other.’

‘Yet, she’s coerced you into helping her search for our wooden-headed brother Brendan, isn’t that right?’

‘My intent is to find my kinsmen, who were last seen with your brother,’ Styr told the man. ‘I hope, for his sake, that they are unharmed.’ Once they reached Áth Cliath, he would disassociate from Caragh and her brothers, searching for Elena. They could find Brendan, and that would be the end of it.

‘Brendan’s lacking in brains,’ Ronan said. ‘If you have brothers of your own, you’ll understand that.’

‘I had four sisters. One older brother.’

He stopped rowing and stared back at Styr. Crossing himself, he added in a loud voice, ‘My God, it’s a wonder you haven’t gone mad. Four sisters?’ He glanced at Caragh with a shudder.

‘Now what is the matter with sisters?’ Caragh demanded.

‘It would take years to name it all,’ Ronan shot back. ‘They cry for no reason. If you make a mistake, they’ll hold a grudge for the rest of your life.’

‘They talk too much and tell your mother everything you do,’ Terence joined in. ‘If you tie up the cat’s tail or put frogs in the garden.’

Caragh glared at him, and Terence continued. ‘But we do love you, Sister.’ He winked at her.

‘Four,’ Ronan repeated. ‘I’d have thrown myself into the sea, for certain.’

Styr couldn’t help but enjoy the man’s humour. There was an easiness about these men, a camaraderie like the friendship he had with Ragnar. ‘I often took the boat out to sea, on my own, to get away from them. It’s why I’m a fisherman.’

‘You don’t act like one,’ Terence countered. ‘I’d have taken you for a tribe leader, with your height and strength.’

Styr shrugged, not truly answering the question. He’d begun his trade as a fisherman, but after his father died, many had wanted him to usurp his older brother’s place as jarl. To avoid conflict, he’d chosen to leave Hordafylke and those who preferred his leadership had come along.

‘Go back and sit with our sister,’ Ronan suggested. ‘Terence can take a turn to row until we catch the wind.’

Styr preferred to remain where he was, but he saw Caragh huddled at the stern of the boat. She clutched her woollen brat over her hair, and her teeth chattered. When he moved to sit slightly in front of her, she kept her voice low. ‘I hope you find Elena.’

‘I won’t stop until I do.’ His purpose was clear, and he added, ‘If you see her—’

‘I’ll say nothing.’ She stiffened, trembling. In a whisper, she added, ‘What I did was a mistake. It will never happen again.’

The journey to Áth Cliath shouldn’t have taken longer than a day, but the winds had picked up intensity, the darker clouds sweeping across the sky. Caragh sat upon the floor of the boat, her hands clenched together. Though her gown had dried, she couldn’t stop from trembling. It wasn’t merely from the cold—her fears had multiplied as she thought of her father’s drowning.

A storm brewed, and she closed her eyes, not wanting to imagine a death at sea. The boat rocked against the waves, and she clung to the bench just in front of the stern, praying for calmer waters. Behind her, Terence held fast to the rudder.

‘Should we move in closer to land?’ he was shouting above the wind.

Styr made a reply, but she couldn’t hear him over the roar. The rain began to pound upon them, a piercing wet shower that made her grimace.

The swells broke over the top of the boat, spraying her with the water. Though it was still daylight, dark mists shadowed their surroundings, making it difficult to see the land. she heard her brothers calling out to Styr as they pulled hard on the sail. Risking a glance at him, she saw his muscles straining, his feet balanced across the boat.

She distracted herself from the fear by remembering those strong arms around her, his hands at her waist. And the shocking heat of his kiss…

Self-hatred and a flushed guilt spread through her. He hadn’t wanted to kiss her, and she’d forced it upon him. She’d never meant any harm by it, thinking it would only be a way of redirecting her brothers’ suspicions.

Instead, it had become something she’d never expected. Perhaps it was because it was forbidden to kiss a man already claimed by someone else. She’d mistakenly thought it would mean nothing at all to him.

Against his lips, she’d tasted his anger. The kiss had lashed back against her, almost brutal as he’d ravaged her mouth. But somehow, in the midst of it, she’d sensed a change in him. Her surrender had tamed the rising beast inside him, and though her heart had never ceased its pounding, she’d evoked a response from him.

She didn’t know what to think of that. Only that there was no sense in dwelling upon it. Soon enough, he would be gone from here, reunited with his wife.

And wasn’t that just her ill fortune? Every man that she’d come to care for had been in love with someone else.

Don’t think of him any more. He belongs to her and always will.

She wished that one day a man would love her for herself. And that he would never turn from her to choose another. Daring a glance at Styr, she closed off any feelings, knowing they could never be.

Another spray of water hit the boat, and now she was sitting in an icy pool. Gingerly, Caragh got to her knees, planning to sit on one of the benches. But without warning, a hard wave struck the vessel, and she lost her balance.

The world tipped on its rim, sending her flying backwards. She cried out and tried to grasp the edge of the boat, but she struck the waves, her mouth filling up with seawater. Darkness closed over her, the icy current submerging her beneath the depths.

Panic roiled inside her, and Caragh flailed her arms, struggling to break through the surface. Her gown was weighing her down, and she fought to reach the boat.

There was an enormous splash, and she saw Styr swimming towards her. He’d stripped off the chainmail corselet, his chest bare as he cut through the water. When he reached her, he seized hold of her waist. ‘Can you swim?’ he murmured against her ear.

‘I’m t-trying.’ Her limbs felt leaden from the cold, and he kept one arm around her, helping her back to the boat. When she gripped the side, he hoisted her up, and her brothers pulled her in. A moment later, he joined her.

Her teeth chattered and she shivered hard, in shock over what had just happened. The boat continued to toss in the wind, but this time, Styr held her steady.

Dimly, she heard something about moving inland, towards the shore, but her body was so cold, she hardly cared. Styr wrapped a blanket around her, but she couldn’t stop shaking.

‘Will you…hold me for a moment?’ she pleaded. It wasn’t merely the cold. It was the terror of slipping beneath the waves, being at the mercy of the sea. She could still taste the salt water, and the frigid water had nearly frozen the blood inside her veins.

Strong arms came around her, and she rested her face against Styr’s bare chest. Though he, too, was cold, the longer he held her, the warmer his skin became. She was acutely conscious of sitting in his lap, but he didn’t let go of her. He’d taken the blanket for himself, wrapping it around both of them.

‘Thank you for saving me,’ she said, her voice hoarse. The exhaustion of the day was dragging her down, her body so tired, she could hardly keep her eyes open.

Styr made no reply, but she hadn’t expected him to. As she closed her eyes, she couldn’t help but wonder why it had been him to jump in after her, instead of her brothers.

He hadn’t hesitated, stripping off his armour before plunging into the sea. And now, as her body was starting to warm, he wasn’t pushing her aside as she’d expected him to.

Don’t, she warned herself. It’s nothing.

But his heartbeat pulsed rapidly against her cheek. And his hand came up to touch her wet hair, smoothing it behind her ear. Like a caress.

Though she hated the thought of losing his warm embrace, she said, ‘I suppose you should help my brothers with the boat.’

It was an offer to release him, a way of letting him go. She’d made him uncomfortable before, when she’d kissed him, and this was just as bad.

‘Your brothers are fine.’ His voice was brusque, as if he had no intention of letting go of her. He wrapped the blanket around her, and the gesture evoked her own guilt. She’d begged him to hold her, and he’d obeyed.

Shame slid over her when she raised her head to look at Terence and Ronan. They were staring at her with an unreadable expression. They didn’t know about Styr’s marriage…and she didn’t want them to.

The winds had died down, and though the rain continued, she no longer felt as if the waves were going to drag her under again. Gently, she pulled away from Styr, trying to calm the pulsing of her heart.

‘Are you all right now?’ Terence called out to her.

She nodded. ‘I’m just cold.’

‘We’re bringing the boat in, and we’ll build you a fire to get warm,’ Ronan informed her. He sent a grateful look towards Styr. ‘Thank you for saving our sister.’

The Lochlannach only tightened his hold around her and said to Caragh, ‘You’ll be all right in the morning.’

‘But the journey to Áth Cliath—’

‘—can wait a few more hours,’ he said. ‘You need to get warm, after what happened to you.’

She didn’t argue, but adjusted the blanket around him. Styr let her remain there a moment longer before he gave it back and went to retrieve his tunic. Her brothers spoke a few words to him before he returned to her. She couldn’t hear what they’d said, and the quiet expression on Styr’s face revealed nothing at all.

‘We’ll be at the shore in less than an hour,’ he said.

‘What did my brothers say to you?’ she asked.

But he would give no answer.

It was near midnight, Styr guessed, by the time they had anchored the boat and made camp upon the shoreline. Ronan and Terence built a fire for Caragh, and though it helped, she was still soaking wet. After her eyes kept closing, Styr helped them set up a tent for her. She moved inside and he brought her another dry blanket.

‘You should be warm soon enough,’ he told her.

‘Styr,’ she whispered, touching his shoulder. Though she’d only meant to stop him from leaving the tent, the slight gesture made him grasp her hand.

‘Sleep,’ he bade her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured.

‘It wasn’t your fault you were swept overboard,’ he argued. She was so light from the hunger she’d experienced, it had been all too easy for her to fall back.

‘That’s not what I meant,’ she said quietly. ‘I shouldn’t have kissed you. You’ve been nothing but honourable towards me, and I had no right.’

He stared at her, saying nothing at all. No, she hadn’t. And though he understood that she was trying to ease things between them, her brothers had complicated matters even more.

They’d thanked him for saving her life… and then they’d asked him if he would consider marriage to Caragh.

‘You saved her life,’ Ronan had said. ‘And she needs a strong protector.’

The instinct to blurt out no had risen to his lips, to confess everything about his wife. But he understood that they were speaking of alliances, of blending the Norse and Irish together. They respected his sailing and his fishing, but more, the two men had expressed their concern for Caragh being alone.

‘The only reason you’re coming with us, Lochlannach, is for her sake,’ Terence had said. ‘I’d rather leave you behind.’

For that reason, he’d kept silent about Elena. He needed this ship to travel east, retracing the path of Brendan, and he didn’t for a moment believe that Caragh’s brothers would allow it if they knew the truth. He would tell whatever lies were necessary to reach his wife.

In the end, he’d avoided answering Ronan and Terence, saying that he had to speak with Caragh first.

She was eyeing him now, her face flushed with guilt. ‘I—I’ve done nothing but treat you badly since you set foot on Éireann. And you’ve saved my life twice.’ Her hand tightened on his. ‘First, by helping me find food, and now, you’ve kept me from drowning.’ She took a deep breath, gathering up her courage. Dark blue eyes held a fragile trust, and she admitted, ‘If you weren’t already wedded—’

‘Don’t.’ He cut her off, his tone harsh as he released her hand. ‘Don’t say it.’ He wouldn’t allow her to speak of thoughts that had no place between them.

Caragh drew up her knees beneath the sodden gown, lowering her forehead.

‘I was going to say that I wish we could be friends.’

Styr remained silent, shielding his thoughts from her. Becoming friends with a woman like Caragh was dangerous.

‘You look as if such a thing would be impossible,’ she offered.

‘It is,’ he said. ‘Men and women cannot be friends.’

She looked taken aback, as if he’d struck her, but she ventured, ‘Why?’

Was she truly that naïve? He stared hard at her, willing her to understand the unspoken truth.

Caragh pulled the blanket around her shoulders, trembling as she waited for an answer. Her wet hair was darker, almost black against her pale skin. Her face was damp, her mouth drawing his attention.

‘I think you know exactly why we can never be friends,’ he said, not caring how harsh he sounded. Without another word, he left the tent, letting it fall closed behind him.

Styr’s harsh anger kept coming back, resonating within Caragh’s mind. Ever since she’d kissed him, he’d taken her actions the wrong way—as if she were threatening him.

She wasn’t trying to steal him away from his wife. Nothing could be further from the truth. Aye, he was handsome enough, but he was far too callous for her. Too demanding.

The longer she was around him, the more he made her heartbeat quicken, setting her nerves on edge. The memory of his raw kiss came rushing back, and her skin prickled with unease. No, she understood now, what he meant. They could never be friends, for she could feel his resentment. It bruised her spirits, for she’d never meant to imply that she wanted him.

The more she thought of it, the angrier she grew.

She peeled away the wet gown, even removing the damp shift until she was naked inside the tent. Carefully, she spread them out, hoping they would dry in the next few hours. Then she rolled up within the blanket, covering her body from neck to ankle.

With each minute that passed, she found it more difficult to sleep. She had never been in a position like this, as if she were a fallen woman trying to lure a man. Styr had saved her life, that was all. And she’d kissed him in an effort to save his. If she’d given the word, her brothers could have slaughtered him where he stood. Didn’t he realise that?

‘Caragh,’ came a male voice. It was Styr.

She bit her lip and tightened her hold around the blanket. ‘What is it?’

‘Your brothers sent you food.’ Without waiting for her to say a word, he entered the tent and set a folded cloth before her. For a moment, his expression tensed when he saw her clothing spread out.

‘Why didn’t they bring it, instead of you?’ she asked, keeping her voice low. He shrugged, but she already knew the answer. It was because her meddling brothers were starting to believe her false story.

Before he could leave, she released the storm of bitterness within her. ‘No, don’t go. Not until I’ve had my say.’

He raised an eyebrow at that, but she gripped the coverlet and raised her chin.

‘Whether or not we are ever friends, let me be clear that I didn’t kiss you because I wanted you. You saved my life, and I tried to save yours with my deception. I didn’t want my brothers to kill you. That’s all.’

‘They couldn’t have killed me,’ he responded.

‘You’re wrong. And though I’m glad you saved me from drowning, I’m angry that you think I have no honour at all.’ Her heartbeat quickened, and she continued talking, giving him all the reasons why she didn’t want him.

By the time she reached the fifth reason, she realised he wasn’t listening to her at all. Instead, his eyes were fixed upon the back of the tent, as if he found it fascinating.

He could have left, she supposed. Instead, he’d remained without speaking a single word.

‘Well? Have you nothing to say?’ she prompted.

‘I have never met a woman who talks as much as you do,’ he said at last. His impassive expression irritated her even more.

‘Don’t tease me.’ She knew she talked a great deal, but it wasn’t her intent. It was simply the desire to fill the empty space, to blot out the discomfort he made her feel.

Styr pushed the food towards her. ‘Eat the fish. There’s bread, as well, that your brothers brought.’

‘Bread?’ She couldn’t control the delight at the thought of tasting bread again. She didn’t care if it was green with mould or the texture of rocks.

When she tasted it, she had to suppress her sigh of delight. She devoured the bread, nearly finishing the last piece, when she suddenly remembered that Styr might not have eaten, either.

‘Have you had anything to eat this night?’ She offered him the rest of the bread, in case he hadn’t.

Styr nodded and sat across from her. He waited for her to finish, and as the uncomfortable silence stretched on, she said, ‘Will you tell me about your wife?’

‘Why?’ His tone sounded disgruntled, as if he wanted to share nothing about Elena.

Because she thought the topic would put him at ease, truthfully. Instead, she said, ‘You miss her, don’t you?’

‘I want her to be safe. It’s different.’

Caragh frowned. ‘Tell me more about her. I know she’s very beautiful.’

Some of his frustration subsided, and he nodded. ‘She is.’ His expression relented and he admitted, ‘I used to tease her about her red hair. I didn’t like the colour when I was younger, and she was angry with me for saying so.’

‘I can’t imagine,’ she responded drily.

His mouth twitched. ‘She tried to cut off my hair while I was sleeping. I was nine years old at the time.’

She picked at the fish, savouring each bite. As she ate, she was careful not to reveal any of her nakedness. ‘What did you do?’

‘When I woke up, I caught her with a length of my hair. I tried to hit her, but my father caught me.’

‘Did he thrash you for it?’

Styr nodded. ‘And he cut off the rest of my hair in punishment. So that everyone would know I tried to strike a girl.’

Her amusement faded at that. ‘But you forgave her, didn’t you?’

He nodded. ‘When I was older.’

When Styr offered nothing else about his wife, Caragh asked another question, though already she suspected the answer. ‘Do you have children?’

‘No.’ The quiet answer held a grim ring to it, and she realised she’d touched upon a delicate subject.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.’

‘Be ready to leave at first light,’ was all he said, taking away the cloth that had contained her food.