Читать книгу Forbidden Nights With A Viking - Michelle Willingham, Harper St. George - Страница 14

All night long, Styr had been haunted by the image of Caragh’s bare shoulders. Though she’d kept herself covered throughout their conversation, his mood had darkened as his mind turned to other memories.

He thought of Elena and the way she often kept herself covered, even during lovemaking. She’d been shy of her body, never wanting him to see her bare skin…almost as if she were ashamed. Then, too, she’d kept her mind veiled as well, never revealing the thoughts she’d hidden within herself. He’d been married to her for five years, and it still felt as if they were strangers.

He reached towards the pouch at his belt and loosened the ties. The leather was stiff and damp, but he managed to pull out the ivory comb. As he stared at it, a tight fear rose up inside. He should have given it to Elena on board the ship. He should have spoken the words of reassurance that she’d needed to hear.

But then, he’d tried to talk to her, only to be spurned. He wasn’t good with words or trying to explain himself.

Caragh was the opposite. Like a small bird, she chattered and revealed everything she was thinking. Sometimes she revealed too much.

A note of danger threaded through his mind, as he thought of her clear violet eyes and her soft mouth. The longer he was around Caragh, the more he compared her to Elena, and it wasn’t right.

He told himself it was curiosity, nothing more. They weren’t even friends. Thor’s blood, she’d captured him and put him in chains. He owed her nothing at all. And because of her brother, he’d lost his wife. A wife he needed to find.

The will strengthened within him as he brushed aside idle thoughts of Caragh. Elena was his focus, and no matter how difficult the past few years had been, he wanted nothing to happen to her.

An insidious voice whispered the possibility that Elena was dead. The thought pierced him with fear. She was his responsibility to protect, and the days of sleeplessness had proved a weakness. It enraged him that he and his men had been brought down by a starving tribe. It never should have happened.

This morning, they had boarded the boat a second time. The sea was calmer now, and it was likely they could finish their journey up the coast without any further problems.

Styr risked a glance at Caragh and saw that her hair was still damp against her face. She wore the blue gown from before, with half of her hair braided back from her face. The rest hung down over her shoulders in dark, curling strands. The morning sun cast a glow over her face, but her expression held worry instead of reassurance. When the wind shuddered past her, he saw the way she gripped her arms, steadying herself.

‘She hates the water,’ Terence said, beneath his breath, as he joined Styr at the oars. ‘Ever since our da died, she’s gone nowhere near it.’

‘She said he drowned.’ He pulled hard, matching the pace of Terence.

‘Aye. He went out during a storm and never came back.’ The man turned to stare at him. ‘She has a gentle heart, our Caragh does. I don’t know why she bothered to save one like you.’

Styr made no remark, but increased his pace, forcing Terence to match him. The man did, but it didn’t take long before his breathing was laboured, his wiry arms struggling to keep up.

‘Going soft, are you, Irishman?’ He sent a sidelong glance towards Terence.

The man narrowed his eyes. ‘It would be best if you stayed in Áth Cliath, far away from our sister. I know Ronan approves of you, but I don’t.’

At that, Caragh crossed from the bow of the boat, climbing towards them until she faced both. It was clear that she’d overheard Terence’s remark. To her brother, she accused, ‘He took care of me, when you left. I had no one else.’

‘We came back,’ Terence argued.

‘And he stayed, when he didn’t have to.’ Caragh crossed her hands upon her knees and looked into Styr’s eyes. There was gratitude there, along with a tension that reflected his own uncertainty. ‘After I released him, he could have gone. Instead, he helped me find food.’

Her gaze held his, and she reached out to touch his hand. Though it was only a gesture of thanks, the coolness of her fingers sent a ripple of awareness through him. He didn’t know what it was about this woman, but she affected him in a way he didn’t understand. He gripped her fingers in warning, abruptly releasing them.

‘I would have drowned if it weren’t for Styr,’ she said quietly.

He said nothing, for he should have allowed her brothers to save her. But when she’d been swept overboard, he’d plunged into an icy sea, determined to save her. He’d reacted on instinct, swimming hard to bring her to safety. She’d clung to him, so grateful for his rescue that a warmth had threaded through him. His brain had snarled at him to let her go, to ignore the way it felt to have a woman in his arms, her face pressed against his heart. Forbidden thoughts had no place between them.

Styr released her hand and took the oars again, while Terence did the same. Caragh tried to hold his gaze, but Styr wouldn’t look at her. Even so, he caught the look of disappointment in her eyes as she retreated to the bow of the boat.

They would reach Áth Cliath today, and he was glad of it. He planned to search the city everywhere until he found Elena. He needed to see her again, to hold her in his arms and banish all other thoughts.

If she was here.

Within the hour, he spied the city upon the horizon while they sailed into the port of Dubh Linn. At the sight of the walled longphort with the ordered rectangular dwellings, it was like returning to Hordafylke. Familiarity pulled at him, along with a tug of regret. Perhaps Ragnar was right, and they should have settled here. At least the people had blended enough with the Irish that they had made a place for themselves.

But as they drew closer, his spirits deflated. The city was vast, far larger than he’d expected. Dozens of ships dotted the shores, some anchored on land, others further out. Immediately he began searching for a glimpse of his own ship, for it would confirm the presence of Elena and his men. But there were so many of them.

Ronan moved up to row beside him, while Terence joined his sister at the bow. ‘Where do you think they are now?’

Styr shook his head. ‘I don’t see my ship. While they might be here, there’s no certainty of it. We’ll have to ask.’ He glanced over at Ronan. ‘Have you been to this city before?’

‘No. But we should split off to find them. Terence and I can go west and east, while you and Caragh take the north. We’ll meet back here by nightfall.’

‘It’s dangerous to take her with us,’ Styr protested. And yet, he knew they could not leave her alone. He’d expected Ronan or Terence to keep Caragh with them, allowing him to search for Elena on his own.

‘We have no choice, and you know it.’ Ronan slowed his pace as they neared the shore. ‘But I trust you to guard her.’

‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘You hardly know me.’

‘You saved her from drowning. Your actions said enough.’

Styr gave no reply, but busied himself with tying down the mainsail. The last thing he wanted was to bring another woman with him on his quest to find Elena. ‘She’s not coming with me.’

Ronan’s expression darkened. ‘Have a care, Lochlannach. The only reason we allowed you to come along was because of our sister.’

Words of protest stumbled inside his mouth. He didn’t want Caragh anywhere near him, particularly not now. But against his better judgement, he found himself raising his shoulders in an indifferent shrug.

Ronan pressed again. ‘Keep her out of harm’s way and guard her well. We’ll find our brother and your people.’

Styr wondered how they would accomplish this when they couldn’t speak his language, but didn’t say so.

They reached one of the docks near Dubh Linn, and Styr paid a copper coin to one of the men for the right to keep the boat there for the next few days.

Caragh called out to him, ‘Where do you want to look first?’

He crossed to the front of the boat and lowered his voice. ‘It would be better if you stayed with your brothers. Tell them you’d rather search with them.’

Caragh reached to tie back her braided hair, and her face was pale. ‘Why? Because you think I’m too weak?’ She moved to his side and confronted him, keeping her voice just above a whisper. ‘Or was there another reason?’

He didn’t trust himself around her. Though he would never act upon the unbidden visions she’d conjured, being around Caragh was weakening his resolve. He’d tasted her mouth and his traitorous mind warned that her kiss had affected him in a way Elena’s never had. She was too innocent to understand, and the further away she remained, the better.

‘Why?’ she prompted again.

In silent answer, he cupped her cheek. He stared into her violet eyes, drawing his thumb over the curve of her lips in memory of the kiss. ‘Because.’

At that, she understood. Her face flushed, and she drew his hand away. ‘You’ve no reason to be uncomfortable in my presence. I would be like a sister to you.’

He masked any response. Never in his life could he imagine a woman like Caragh in a sisterly way. ‘I want nothing from you, Caragh.’

She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Let me make amends for what my brother did. Promise me you won’t kill him.’

Her warm breath sent a ripple of uneasiness through him. ‘I can’t make that promise.’ He didn’t care that Brendan was hardly more than a young man. Elena had done nothing wrong, and if she was hurt, he would avenge every harm done to her. Without mercy.

Caragh’s fingers tightened upon his shoulder, her own tension evident. ‘Then I will go with you, if for no other reason than to protect him.’

‘Go with your brothers,’ he bade her again, and climbed out of the boat, stepping on to the docks.

Caragh hung back while Styr spoke to the Norsemen nearby, presumably asking questions about his ship. Meanwhile, she shielded her eyes against the sun and looked for a sign of Styr’s ship. As her gaze drifted past several Norse boats, she realised how futile it was. Most of them looked alike, and she couldn’t tell one from the next.

‘Do you think Brendan is here?’ Terence came up beside her, his expression grim.

‘I don’t know.’ She shuddered, and her brother removed his cloak, handing it to her. ‘We’d have seen a Norse ship along the coast, if he’d stopped somewhere else, wouldn’t we?’

Terence shrugged. ‘I don’t trust that Loch­ lannach, Caragh. I don’t care what Ronan thinks—you shouldn’t be alone with him. What if he tries to force himself on you?’

‘He won’t harm me,’ she said. ‘That, I can promise you.’

There was no danger at all from Styr, because of his unyielding loyalty to his wife. She was perfectly safe with him.

Yet, she couldn’t say the same for Brendan. She didn’t believe he would harm Elena, but his friends might have. And regardless of what had happened, she had to accompany Styr on his search, if for no reason than to protect her foolish younger brother.

‘I’ve seen the way he watches you,’ Terence continued. ‘He desires you.’

‘It’s nothing, Terence,’ she insisted. ‘I’m like a sister to him.’

Her brother cast a sidelong glance. ‘You’re anything but that. And I don’t trust him.’

‘I do. He’s saved my life, more than once.’

Terence caught her hand, pulling her back before she could leave. From his belt, he withdrew a small pouch. ‘Take these with you.’

She felt the weight of the coins and frowned. ‘Where did you get these? And what about the animals and supplies? All that from our mother’s brooch?’

Terence’s face turned grim. ‘We hired out our swords.’ From the dull tone in his voice, she understood that whatever he’d done, had been for their family. She reached up to embrace him, but though he returned it, she sensed the trouble weighing upon him.

‘You succeeded, then.’

His expression remained shielded. ‘I’m not proud of what I did.’

Caragh had no time to ask further questions, for Ronan and Styr approached. Already her brother was pointing out the direction he intended to search. To Styr, he directed, ‘If you’ll take Caragh and go deeper into the city, we’ll rejoin you here at sundown.’

She didn’t miss the reluctance on Styr’s face. Before he could argue again, Ronan handed a bundle of supplies to Styr. ‘See to it that she eats.’

Did he believe she was a small child incapable of caring for herself? She ignored his patronising tone and started walking north, along the edge of the docks.

Within moments, Styr guided her away. ‘Your brothers will search here. It’s not a place for a woman.’ He kept one hand upon his battleaxe, and his eyes scanned the crowd, as if searching for any possible threats. His other palm moved to the small of Caragh’s back.

She knew it was only a means of telling others that she was under his protection. But even so, she grew conscious of his large hand upon her spine and the firm pressure against her skin. A strange ache resonated through her, moving from his palm, over her own skin. He’d made her feel safe on the night she’d nearly drowned, warming her with his body.

She glanced over at him, and his eyes were constantly searching, his pace swift. ‘Do you know anyone in the city you could ask?’

He shook his head. ‘We’ll start in the marketplace.’

As they continued walking further, she was overwhelmed by the crowds, her eyes drinking in the sights. ‘I’ve never seen so many people before.’

‘Have you never left Gall Tír?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve lived there all my life.’ And although she knew every person within the ringfort, she’d heard stories of cities so large, it was impossible to know the names of all who dwelled within its walls.

Seeing Áth Cliath, she could believe it. Though this was her own country, the Irish and the Norse were mingled together. The Lochlannach settlements were unusual, with long, rectangular houses set out in quadrants. Even the women were dressed differently, their long yellow hair bound up in braids. They wore long aprons over their gowns, with brooches fastened at the shoulders. And they were so tall, like exotic goddesses.

Caragh was entranced by them. Her hand reached up to her own dark locks, as if imagining them in braids.

When they reached the open market, her eyes widened at the sight of the food, the livestock, and all the merchants. Voices mingled together in different languages, lauding their wares, while others bargained for the best price.

Caragh stopped before all of it, and Styr caught her hand. ‘We should go.’

‘Wait.’ Never in her life had she been in a place such as this, and she likely would not visit again. ‘Could we look at their wares? I’ve not seen a place like this before.’ She hid the pouch of coins Terence had given her, tying it within the folds of her gown.

He guided her away from the crowd, his gaze dark. ‘I didn’t want you to come with me, Caragh. And I’m not about to waste time here in the marketplace.’

Her mood diminished at his anger, and she recognised it for what it was—worry. ‘We’re going to find her,’ she reiterated. ‘But instead of searching blindly, we should ask.’

He didn’t want to; that was evident enough. Impatience dominated his mood like a dark cloud.

‘If she was brought here, someone might have seen her,’ Caragh said. ‘We’ll speak with every merchant, until we learn something.’

Though he didn’t disguise his reluctance, he lowered his head in a grim nod. ‘So be it.’

It was the best she could hope for. She gave his hand a friendly squeeze, but he jerked his hand away, giving her a stare of warning. It bewildered her why he would feel threatened by such a gesture, but she made a silent vow to herself, not to touch him again.

The first place they visited was a spice merchant. The aroma was like nothing she’d experienced before, and she marvelled at the wares.

‘What are these?’ she asked the man, studying the strange coloured pieces and seeds.

His skin was dusky, his eyes shrewd as he answered in Irish, ‘Cinnamon and pepper from the Far East, lady.’ He held up a sample, and the exotic scent made her close her eyes. To Styr, he said, ‘I will give you a good price for them.’

‘No, you won’t.’ Styr guided her away. ‘We came to ask you about a Norse woman.’ He described Elena to the man, and Caragh interjected with her own questions about Brendan.

The man lifted his shoulders in a shrug. ‘I do not remember them. But if you want to buy some of my spices, they will make your food taste like it came from a king’s table.’

‘No.’ Styr rested his hands on Caragh’s shoulders, guiding her away while the merchant kept pleading with them to stay. To her he muttered, ‘He knows nothing.’

As he led her forwards, the pressure of his hands distracted her. His touch was warm, and she tried not to think of it as they continued to move through the marketplace. But her wicked mind conjured up the dream of walking at his side, his hand resting upon her waist.

She closed her eyes against the forbidden vision, blurting out something to break the silence between them. ‘Have you ever seen so many things in all your life? Those bracelets, and the cloth…I’ve never imagined anything so beautiful.’

‘It’s silk,’ Styr told her. ‘Brought over from the East.’ He described the caravans from across the seas and lands where the sand stretched as far as the eye could see. Of a burning hot sun, and animals so strange, they had a single hump on their backs.

She sensed the longing in his voice and asked, ‘Have you seen them for yourself?’ The exotic place sounded like a world away from anything she’d ever known.

‘No. Elena never wanted to travel.’ His hand dropped away from her shoulders, and she caught the tension in his voice, warning her not to ask.

Styr guided her towards another merchant who was selling meat pies, surprising her when he added, ‘When I was younger, I went south with my father to The kingdom of the Visigoths. The closer you sail to the Mediterranean, the warmer the sun is. The skin of the people is darker, and their winter is very short.’

It was the most she’d ever heard him speak, and the tone of his voice spoke of a man who dreamed of travelling to distant lands.

‘You love the sea, don’t you?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘When I was a boy, I wanted to cross the largest sea. But my mother warned that if I went too far, I would be taken by Jörmungand, the serpent of Midgard.’

‘Devoured alive.’ She hid a smile, asking, ‘Do you still believe it?’

He shrugged, but she could see the superstition in his eyes. ‘There are many things on the sea that no man can understand. I have seen fish so large, their tails are the size of my home.’

‘I would like to see that. But only if I had a man like you to slay The serpent,’ she admitted. A tingle of nerves caught up in her stomach when she met his gaze. The tension had returned, and she couldn’t read the thoughts on his face.

She shouldn’t have confessed it to him. Because truthfully, the only reason she would consider journeying across the sea was if he were with her. her thoughts were betraying her, leading her down a path she could not travel. It embarrassed her to know that he’d seen it in her eyes.

God above, if she could simply close off her heart, she would. But every time she looked into his dark eyes, she saw the futility of her feelings. The chains of unwanted attraction had utterly bound up her common sense. With difficulty, she shored up the brittle defences around her heart.

She eyed the man selling meat pies and remarked to Styr, ‘I’ve never seen so much food. How can this be with the drought?’

He nodded towards the ships in the distance. ‘There are many who come to Dubh Linn to trade. If a man has silver, he can buy what he needs.’

Caragh touched the pouch of coins Terence had given her, grateful for her brother’s gift. Impulsively, she broke away from Styr, asking the merchant, ‘How much do you think your pies are worth?’

She offered her brightest smile, desperately needing a way to distance herself from Styr. Although they had broken their fast that morn, she knew the meagre food wasn’t enough for a warrior the size of Styr.

‘Ten pieces of silver,’ the merchant proclaimed, and Caragh laughed at him.

‘What kind of a fool do you think I am?’

‘A hungry one?’ he returned.

‘We’ve no time for this,’ Styr said, though she caught the way his eyes lingered upon the food. He was hungry, whether or not he would admit it.

Caragh bade him to wait, bargaining with the pie man. ‘Perhaps I would buy two pies for one piece of silver.’

The merchant shook his head. ‘Not enough.’

Disappointed, she was about to ask him about Elena and Brendan, only to find herself none-too-gently escorted away by Styr. ‘But what if he knows about—?’ she started to say, before he gripped her hand tightly.

‘Wait,’ he commanded. It took no longer than a few seconds before the merchant caught up to them, holding two pies.

‘Your silver?’ he asked.

Styr paid the man one coin and handed Caragh both pies. She had no chance to ask any questions, before the man took the rest of his pies and disappeared among the people.

‘You don’t think he knew anything about your wife?’

Styr shook his head. ‘He would have said anything he thought we wanted to hear.’

Caragh started to give him one of the pies, but he refused. ‘You’re hungry,’ she insisted. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’

‘Not as hungry as you.’

But Caragh broke off a piece of the steaming pie, touching it to his mouth. ‘I will enjoy mine more, if I know that you aren’t hungry.’

He accepted the bite of food and finally took the pie. Caragh found a stack of wine barrels on the other side of the square and asked for a moment to sit down.

Her shoes were so worn, she could feel the rocky soil beneath her soles. It wouldn’t take long to wear holes through the weak leather, and already she felt the swelling of blisters.

But the rest made it easier to endure. Styr leaned beside one of the wine barrels, while she finished as much as she could. When her stomach could hold no more, she gave the rest to him.

‘Don’t you want to save it for later?’

She shook her head. ‘I know the past few days were hard on both of us. And you need your strength.’ Her gaze slid over to his muscled arms, and his expression shifted, as if she’d physically touched him. Though he said nothing, his eyes passed over her. And this time, his hunger had nothing to do with food.

Her body was well aware of the direction of his thoughts, though he had spoken not a word. Against her will, a shimmer of interest echoed in her body. She imagined his hands upon her, his forbidden touch shattering every last defence.

God help them both.

‘Th-thank you for letting me see the market,’ she said, sliding down from the barrel. ‘We should go back and find out what we can about Elena and Brendan.’

Styr inclined his head, and they returned to the marketplace, asking several other merchants about what they had seen. None had any information, but they suggested asking another man whose stall was closest to the slave market.

Strangely, Caragh didn’t recognise the man’s wares. She stared at the selection of ivory and polished wood, along with vials of oil.

‘We’re not stopping here,’ Styr said, trying to move her on. But her curiosity was heightened. The man’s eyes lit up when he saw the two of them. He was one of the Norsemen, shorter than Styr, but barrel-chested.

‘For you, lady.’ He offered her a tiny vial, contained in wood. ‘Try it with your lover.’

Her cheeks went crimson, and she shook her head. ‘But he’s not my—’

‘We’re leaving,’ Styr repeated, gripping her hand.

The merchant grinned at him and spoke words in his language. Styr argued back, shaking his head in refusal. Whatever it was the merchant wanted him to buy, Styr was having none of it.

‘But what is he selling?’ she asked. ‘I don’t recognise his wares.’

‘Your brothers wouldn’t want you here,’ he said.

His declaration only heightened her interest. She ignored his wishes and moved in closer. Styr was trying to hide something, and she couldn’t think of what.

‘Please,’ the merchant insisted. ‘Take the oil. But if you wish to buy this, other women will tell you of the pleasure you will know.’ He held out an ivory cylinder with a rounded, ridged top.

The moment she saw it closer, Caragh frowned. As the merchant instructed, she held it in her palm, still unclear on what it was.

‘Use the oil, lady.’ He began to explain more, but his Irish was broken, and he switched back into the Norse language, making it impossible to understand.

When she shook her head, the merchant took her hand and curled it over the ivory. He showed her how to move it up and down, and when she glanced at Styr, his shoulders were shaking, his mouth tight.

‘What’s wrong?’

He lowered his head, looking away. The man was laughing at her. And she had no idea why. Handing back the ivory cylinder, she saw lengths of silk in many different colours. ‘And what are those for?’

‘Tying up your lover,’ he explained.

A snort erupted from Styr, and finally he burst out in a broad laugh. Caragh’s face turned scarlet, as she suddenly understood what the man had been selling. Not only chains to tie up a lover, but the ivory cylinder was a perfect replica of a man’s—

Oh dear God.

She dropped it as if it were a hot coal, hurrying away from the merchant. Styr followed, but he never stopped laughing at her. ‘Are you still wondering what he was selling?’

‘I cannot believe anyone would sell such things!’ she said, horrified that she’d actually touched the ivory shaft. ‘Why would anyone want them?’

He leaned against a wooden cart, and she glared at him while he continued to laugh. ‘Should I buy you one?’ he smirked, starting to walk back.

‘No!’ She’d never been so humiliated in all her life. ‘And you can stop laughing at me.’

He did, but a dangerous smile spread over his face. ‘You’re too innocent, Caragh.’ But his hand came around her shoulders, as he led her away from the market.

It was the gesture of a friend, of a man who was no longer threatened by her. This was the first time she’d ever seen him smile or laugh, for he’d always been so angry, so intent upon finding Elena. But for the briefest moment, she saw the anger and frustration slip away. She found herself drawn even more to this man, although his good mood was at her expense.

‘I would prefer that we forget about this,’ she said quietly.

His expression turned mischievous, his eyes almost sensual. ‘Some women have no man to share their bed. Such things have their uses.’

‘Not for me. And you didn’t have to laugh.’

‘The look on your face was worth a thousand silver coins, when you realised what it was.’ His arm remained around her shoulders, and for a moment, her traitorous mind imagined that they were more than friends. She’d never done anything except kiss a man, but after viewing the merchant’s wares, she wondered what else happened between a husband and a wife. She knew how children were made…but was there more?

Styr’s hand moved away from her shoulders, once they were further away. He guided her out of the market, admitting, ‘I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.’

‘Not even with Elena?’

His expression shifted, his smile fading. ‘No.’

She didn’t know what to say, for fear of transforming his mood into sadness or anger. Instead, she let her fingers brush against his, and he took her palm, threading their fingers together.

They walked past the marketplace, and for the first time, he didn’t pull away. The warmth of his hand upon hers was comforting, and for a moment, she imagined that they were friends. When he wasn’t so angry, it was easy to be around Styr.

And far too easy to let down the guard around her heart.

Iona’s words came back to haunt her: You will find your happiness, when you learn to walk away from what was never meant to be.

Was this what the old woman had meant? That she needed to leave Styr and protect her heart? The more she thought of it, the more she saw the truth in Iona’s words. If she allowed herself to be friends with Styr, the dangerous attraction might transform into other feelings. Feelings of jealousy, feelings that would remind her of how Kelan hadn’t wanted her.

She let go of his hand, focusing her concentration on the rising pain upon her feet and the blisters through her worn shoes.

As they continued on, Styr spoke with several more merchants, but no one seemed to have seen his wife. Caragh offered to ask among the women, but he refused to leave her side for a moment.

‘It’s not safe for you to be alone, without a guard.’

She acceded to him, for he knew the customs of the Norse better than herself. Then, too, more than a few of the men had eyed her, only to be deterred by Styr’s presence.

‘What if Elena isn’t within the city?’ she asked, after they had finished searching the marketplace.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. It seems likely, but without finding my ship—’

When he didn’t finish the sentence, she took a breath. ‘There is another place we should search.’

He knew, without asking, what she meant. They continued a little further and Styr asked a bystander where they could find the slave markets. The man pointed them in the right direction, and she saw the tension in his face. If Elena had been sold as a slave, she could be anywhere…even brought to distant lands. He might never find her.

A hollow feeling took root within Caragh, suffusing her with guilt. For if Styr never saw his wife again, his marriage was essentially over.

He could be yours, the voice of sin whispered.

She lifted her gaze to his sun-darkened hair and his brown eyes. There was no man as powerful and strong as this one. And when he’d touched her, it was as if her body craved more than he could give.

But it was wrong to even think of it. She closed her eyes, forcing back the dishonourable thoughts. A man like Styr deserved to be with the woman he loved. Not her.

The longer they walked, the more her feet began to ache. Caragh hid her discomfort, for it was not only Elena they needed to find; it was also Brendan.

She’d not seen any sign of her brother at all, and more and more, she was wondering if he’d gone elsewhere.

They walked through a maze of streets, past livestock and throngs of people. Caragh didn’t know how they would ever find anyone in a place as large as this. She was accustomed to a small ringfort with only a few dozen inhabitants. Here, there were hundreds. Perhaps even a thousand.

She gritted her teeth against the swollen blisters on her soles, not wanting to reveal any weakness. When they reached the interior of the city, she saw the auction block and the chained rows of men and women. Most were Irish, but there were a few Norse men and women among them.

Although it was cold outside, the men were mostly naked, wearing only a cloth around their waist to cover themselves. She supposed it was to reveal their physical strength. The women wore a shapeless brown léine, their hair hanging loose. When she saw a few boys awaiting their turn to be sold, her heart twisted at the sight. What had happened to their families? And why would anyone want to sell a child?

Styr went to ask one of the Norse men about Elena, but Caragh couldn’t tear her gaze from the young boy. He reminded her of Brendan, years ago, when both of them had played together as children. Though her brother had made terrible mistakes in the past few days, he was still her kin. And his life depended on what had happened to Elena.

When Styr returned, his face was grim. ‘They were here, a few days ago. My men were, at least. But not Elena. They didn’t see a woman.’

‘Perhaps they were lying.’

‘No. They had no reason to lie about her.’

His hands clenched into fists with a palpable frustration. Though he steeled his expression, she knew he feared the worst.

‘She’s not dead,’ Caragh assured him.

‘You don’t know that, any more than I do.’ He gripped her hand in wordless command not to speak of it before he led her away from the marketplace. Caragh cast one last look at the young boy, wishing she could save him.

But she could not delay any longer. Styr’s pace had hastened, his long legs striding forwards as he moved northwest.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, biting her lip against the pain of her blistering feet.

‘I learned where one of my men was sold. He’s still within the city, and I plan to speak with him and find out what happened to Elena.’ He kept a tight grip upon her hand, guiding her through the narrow streets, across a bridge that spanned the River Liffey.

‘How far away is he?’ she asked, praying it could not be much further.

‘Another hour. Unless we hurry,’ he told her.

Caragh glanced up at the afternoon sun, which was starting to descend. ‘We have to be back by nightfall. My brothers will—’

‘I don’t care about what your brothers want,’ he snapped. ‘You were the one who insisted on coming with me. And if night comes before we get back, so be it. I will find my wife, no matter how many hours it takes.’

Though he sounded impatient, she didn’t miss the note of fear in his voice. ‘I hope we do find them. But could we rest, for just a moment?’ Her lungs were burning from exertion, and her feet were slick within her leather shoes.

He did stop walking, but appeared annoyed at the delay. Caragh moved down to the river bank and removed her shoes. She dipped them into the cool water, and the relief was immediate. He drew closer and when he saw her feet, his demeanour changed. ‘When did your feet start bleeding?’

‘An hour ago.’ She washed away the blood, letting the cool water soothe the swollen skin. ‘I’ll be all right in a few minutes. Why don’t we eat and then we can continue?’ It had been hours since they’d broken their fast with the meat pies, and she was hungry again.

Styr ignored her suggestion and picked up her shoes. He turned them over, revealing the holes within the leather. ‘You’re not walking in these.’

She shook her head at that pronouncement. ‘I’ve no other choice.’

‘I’ll carry you.’ He gave back the shoes and pulled one of her feet from the water. Though it was dripping wet, he dried it upon his hose and examined her blisters. When his thumb brushed against a sensitive place, she flinched.

‘If we want to be back by nightfall, I’ll have to walk.’ She reached for her shoes, and reluctantly, he returned them. Though her feet ached, she limped along for a time.

Then, without warning, he lifted her into his arms. He strode up the river bank, moving deeper into the city.

‘Styr, no. This isn’t necessary.’

It was as if she hadn’t spoken a single word. Doggedly, he continued, his gaze studying every street. ‘It’s only another mile past the river.’

‘It’s too far to carry me,’ she said. ‘Truly, you shouldn’t bother.’

‘Caragh, my dog weighed more than you do.’ He shifted her in his arms, and his remark bruised her feelings. She didn’t say anything, but it made her conscious of how much weight she’d lost. How tired she’d become over the past few months. Even when they’d caught the fish, she’d been unable to eat more than a small portion.

The famine had changed her, and not only physically. She was conscious of food in a way she’d never been before.

‘I know what I look like,’ she said quietly. ‘I know I’m too thin.’

He slowed his pace and eased her back to her feet. Caragh faced him, holding up her arms. ‘I never wanted to be like this. But don’t speak as if the way I look was my choice.’

‘It wasn’t.’ He let out a slow breath. ‘But your brothers shouldn’t have left you there. They should shoulder the blame for what you suffered.’

‘They knew I couldn’t make the journey to find food.’ She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. ‘And perhaps it…was my fault. I gave Brendan my share of food on occasion.’ Her voice grew distant as she remembered her brother’s desperate hunger.

‘Then he was weak for taking what belonged to you.’

‘He didn’t know.’ She walked gingerly, adjusting her gait to avoid stepping on her blisters. Styr remained at her side, keeping his own pace slow. ‘I told him I had eaten already. Sometimes I told him it was extra food.’

The ache of hunger had dulled until she didn’t feel it. And watching her brother suffer was so hard, especially when she could do something to change it.

Her mother had done the same thing, and after seeing her brother’s fierce hunger, she’d understood why…even if it wasn’t right to starve herself.

But now, she’d paid the consequences for her actions. She was fully conscious of her thinness, and it bothered her to be seen like this.

Styr stopped walking, and he unwrapped a bit of dried fish from their supplies. ‘Eat this.’

‘But you—’

‘Do it,’ he commanded. ‘And I swear on the bones of Thor, that you won’t go hungry again. Not like the past few months.’

‘And how will you do that, when my brother stole your ship? You’ve no more coins than I.’

‘There are ways,’ he said enigmatically, taking food for himself. He made sure that she ate a goodly portion of fish and bread, before lifting her in his arms again.

‘Styr, I don’t want to be carried.’

‘You slow my pace when we walk,’ he countered.

And with no other choice, she let him. While he continued through the streets, she rested her cheek against his chest. In his arms, he made her feel safe, as if she could cast off her worries and rely on him.

But the lurking fear for her brother remained. What had happened to Brendan? Was he alive? And would Styr harm him? And what of Elena?

He spoke of Elena like a man who would never stop searching. But there was something else beneath his resolution. Almost a sadness, a frustration she didn’t understand.

‘When you find your wife, I’ll stay away from both of you,’ Caragh offered. ‘I wouldn’t want her to think that I…came between you in any way.’

His pacing slowed, and he adjusted her position for a moment. ‘She knows I would never dishonour our marriage.’ But again, there was a grim quality to his tone. She didn’t know what to make of it.

‘That’s good, then.’ She waited for him to continue on, pushing back her doubts. ‘I imagine she will be overjoyed to see you.’

But the look on his face didn’t agree with the words. Instead, he shrugged.

‘Likely she’ll blame me for being unable to guard her.’ He continued walking, though his pace was not nearly as swift. ‘She would be right.’

She reached up to touch his cheek, forcing him to look at her. ‘It wasn’t your fault. And I believe, when you find her, she will be so happy to see you, everything will change.’

He said nothing, a tight set to his jaw, as if he didn’t believe her.

‘You’re a good man, Styr. You deserve the happiness she can give you.’ Though he gave no reply, he tightened his arms around her. Caragh allowed herself to imagine it as an embrace instead of a duty. For she believed that, despite his outwardly rough manner, Styr was a man of worth.

As he continued to walk, she saw the shadow of guilt upon him. Why? He’d done nothing at all wrong—even the kiss had been against his will.

Was it because their marriage wasn’t as strong as it seemed? Would his wife truly blame him for being captured, for being unable to save her?

From his brooding mood, it seemed possible.

As he walked, Caragh allowed herself to daydream. If she were wedded to a man like Styr, she would not fault him for the attack.

His driven need to find Elena was powerful, a force that only deepened Caragh’s attraction to him. But she knew better than to reveal it. Better to bury away useless feelings that meant nothing.

Regret pierced through her heart as she thought of her past failures. She’d been so trusting, believing Kelan when he’d said he would love only her. In the end, she hadn’t been the one he’d wanted.

It had stung deeply. After she’d shielded herself from any further advances, she’d turned inward, never speaking to other men or letting herself dream of a future. During the famine, there were no thoughts at all of a marriage or a family.

But now, she found herself wondering again. She’d survived, and there was no reason to abandon her own dreams. Here in the city, there were dozens of men. Black-haired men with handsome faces, golden-haired Norsemen like Styr. Strong men, young men…men who might be wanting a wife. Or children of their own.

Caragh’s thoughts drifted back to the young boy at the slave auction. She had wanted children once, wanted to feel the tug of young hands upon her skirts. She’d dreamed of kissing a baby-soft cheek and cradling an infant in her arms.

It was a future she would never have at Gall Tír. But here, it wasn’t so impossible.

A prickle of fear clung to her courage, along with more self-consciousness about her thin appearance. Could she even gain a man’s notice? Was it worth staying in Áth Cliath for a little longer, in the hopes of meeting someone? The voice of doubt warned that few men would want a half-starved woman with nothing at all to bring to the marriage.

Styr set her down near a large rectangular dwelling. ‘This is the place,’ he said.

‘How do you know?’

‘It’s as the man described it to me.’ He pointed towards the door. Upon the wood, there appeared to be a monstrous face, and there were other stone carvings beside it. Elaborate runes were engraved within the limestone.

‘What do you want to do?’ she asked.

‘If my kinsman Onund is here, he will be among the thralls. He may come outside, or he may be working within the dwelling.’

‘Should we hide ourselves?’ she suggested.

‘We’ll watch over them until we see a chance to go inside.’ He took her hand and pulled her back around the edge of the stone wall. Caragh obeyed, keeping her shoulders against the fortification.

She fell silent, waiting beside him as the minutes passed. If he were alone, she suspected he would try scaling the wall to infiltrate the dwelling. As it was, she’d become a burden on him.

‘You should try to go inside,’ she whispered at last. ‘There’s a pile of peat stacked over there. I’ll hide behind it.’

‘No. I’m not leaving you alone.’

She thought a moment and pressed again. ‘I’ll be safe enough, so long as I stay hidden. And if anything happens, I’ll call out for help.’

‘You could be taken while I’m inside,’ he argued. ‘I won’t leave you without my protection.’

‘If there is danger there, we’ll both be captured,’ she reminded him. ‘It’s better if one of us stays behind. Give me your blade, and when you know it’s safe, you’ll come back for me,’ she suggested. ‘If you don’t return within an hour, I’ll get help.’ With a wry smile, she added, ‘I can limp back to my brothers. With any luck, I might arrive by morning.’

He didn’t want to leave her; she could see the reluctance in his face. But he recognised the sense in her words. With a sigh, he gave a nod. ‘Stay out of sight and don’t go anywhere.’

It was evident that he didn’t like the plan but could see no alternative. Caragh waited until she was certain no one was watching. She hurried across from the dwelling and moved several of the peat bricks aside to make a space for herself. It felt good to sit, and when she was well hidden, Styr approached the dwelling.

Caragh could only hope that he would find what he sought.