Читать книгу Forbidden Nights With A Viking - Michelle Willingham, Harper St. George - Страница 18

Bodies littered the ground, but Ivar’s house remained unscathed. Styr cleaned his sword and thankfully, none of his men had died in the fight.

Ivar had a wound upon his upper arm, but it would heal. ‘Take your men and go after them,’ he commanded.

At Styr’s questioning look, he added, ‘Caragh wants you and always has.’ Nodding towards Onund and the others, he said, ‘Your men helped defend my house. They may take their freedom, so long as you guard her.’

Ivar’s mouth curved in a bitter smile. ‘The only reason she offered to stay was for you. And unless you’re an utter fool, you should claim the woman who loves you. Before the Danes do.’

‘She doesn’t—’

‘Open your damned eyes, Hardrata. Because if you don’t go after her, I will.’

Styr eyed the man, not certain what he was agreeing to. Even so, he didn’t want Caragh here any more. It wasn’t safe.

‘You And I know the Danes,’ Ivar continued. ‘They will build their fires upon the bodies of their enemies. And her brothers aren’t enough to guard her. Go,’ he ordered.

Sheathing his sword, Styr ordered his kinsmen to follow him. They moved through the streets, cutting down any man who dared to attack.

As they moved along the edge of the River Liffey, Styr kept his battleaxe in hand, his eyes searching for a glimpse of Caragh. the deeper he moved into the city, the more he realised Ivar was right. The Danes had slaughtered the Norse and Irish alike, and the fighting hadn’t stopped.

He moved with a purpose, needing to ensure that she was safe.

The sounds of Death surrounded them, mingled with fire and smoke.

Caragh kept her head down while her brothers pushed her through the crowd. She saw women cut down in the streets, the Danes slaughtering anyone who stood in their way.

Terence shoved her through a narrow passageway between houses, ordering, ‘Don’t look. Don’t think. Just run.’

And she did. Her lungs burned, her sides aching as she followed them towards the harbour. But just when she spied the gleaming dark water, a hand snaked around her waist, dragging her back.

A cry escaped her, and Ronan swung hard at the man, his blade biting into a wooden shield. Terence tried to aid him, but within moments, they were surrounded by invaders. The dark-haired Gallaibh were fierce fighters, bearded men whose ruthless eyes revealed the desire to conquer.

Fear pulsed within her, while her brothers fought, back to back, against the insurmountable odds. She struggled against her captor, but although she had regained some of her strength, it wasn’t nearly enough.

His foreign words made no sense to her, but when he shoved her against a wall and reached for her skirts, his intent became clear.

No. She refused to stand here without fighting. When he tried to pin her, she let her body go limp, and she hit the ground hard. Her fist seized a handful of dirt, and when he jerked her up, she threw it into his eyes.

He roared in fury, reaching for her. She ducked to avoid the strike of his fists, but a moment later, the man seized her, gripping his forearm across her throat.

‘I should break your neck,’ he said in Irish, and his breath smelled of ale. She tried to push against him, but he only tightened his grip, cutting off her air.

The world swam with blurred images, her hands fighting hard against the man who slowly strangled her. She couldn’t see her brothers or anyone else, the fading consciousness sliding away.

She glimpsed the face of Death, as her lungs burned from lack of air. A part of her mourned the fact that she hadn’t had the chance to talk with Styr to admit the feelings she’d held inside her.

And now she was going to die.

Styr embedded his battleaxe in the Dane’s spine, catching Caragh before she could fall.

Thor’s blood, she’d nearly died. Her skin was waxen, but thank the gods, she gasped for air. He lifted her in his arms, while his men aided Ronan and Terence in fighting the enemy.

All around them were the bodies of the fallen, but Styr kept his battleaxe in one hand, holding Caragh with the other arm. Her head slumped against his shoulder, but he continued towards the waiting boat. One man dared to attack, and he slashed his battleaxe, cutting the man down.

No one will harm her. The need to protect Caragh, to keep her safe, went deeper than his bones.

When he reached the boat, he brought her inside, awaiting her brothers and his men. Not once did he let her out of his arms, and at long last, her eyelids fluttered.

‘Caragh,’ he murmured. ‘Are you all right?’

She coughed, and he held her, rubbing her back as she regained awareness.

‘Where am I?’

‘On board your brothers’ ship,’ he responded. ‘We’re waiting for them to join us.’ Her arms came up around his neck, and when she embraced him, he gripped her hard.

‘You came for me,’ she whispered. ‘I thought I was going to die.’ She drew back, her dark blue eyes meeting his. ‘And all I could think was that I never told you.’ Her voice was soft, as if holding secrets.

‘Never told me what?’ But he knew before she said a word. Her heart lay in those eyes, and in her, he saw the offering.

A faltering smile crossed her face. ‘I’m such a fool, Styr. You made me so angry at Ivar’s house. He could have given me anything. And yet, I let myself fall in love with a man I can’t have.’ She touched his cheek, the sadness filling up her countenance. ‘I’m sorry. But I needed you to know.’

He didn’t know what to say. Her words should have provoked a sense of guilt. Instead, he saw her love for what it was—a gift.

‘I know you will return to your wife,’ she said. ‘I know you love her and not me. But when I was about to die, I wished I had said it sooner.’

He lifted her hand to his mouth in a silent kiss. There were no words to tell her that he did care, far more than he should. When he’d watched the Dane trying to kill her, the raw fear had struck him down. He couldn’t let it happen.

‘You honour me,’ was all he could say.

He kept her in his arms, not revealing his own troubled spirits. Her affection was a kindness he’d never expected, and for a moment, he let himself dream of what his life would have been, had he wed a woman like Caragh.

‘Will you allow me a boon?’ she said, when she caught sight of her brothers approaching.

He nodded his assent, not asking what it was. But when her hands moved to either side of his face, he guessed what she wanted. Violet eyes watched him with a longing that stole his breath away. And when she brought his face down to hers, he didn’t stop himself from kissing her back.

She was a beautiful woman, loving and warm-hearted. Yet, he knew this was a kiss goodbye.

He wasn’t prepared for the rush of heat that filled up the empty crevices of his heart. Her tongue touched his, and the kiss shifted from a farewell into a carnal response that staggered him.

Elena’s kisses had been good, but none of them had made him feel such a visceral need. He didn’t understand why Caragh’s touch affected him in such a way, but he didn’t stop it from happening. For it felt right to kiss her, to be with her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered against his mouth, when she pulled away. ‘But after what happened this day, I needed you. Just for a moment.’

He saw the looks on the faces of her brothers. They’d seen him kissing Caragh, and Terence’s expression tightened with dissatisfaction. The rest of his men arrived on board the boat, and they, too, eyed him with suspicion.

Ronan gave the orders to pull up the anchor and untie the boat from its moorings. The men took their places at the oars and began to row, while in the distance, the fires burned through the city.

Styr continued rowing alongside the men, and Terence came to sit by him. ‘We’re taking you to your ship, Lochlannach. You’ll take your men and go.’

And leave our sister alone, were the unspoken words.

Styr said nothing but only continued to row. Caragh borrowed a cloak from her brothers and was sitting at the side of the boat.

It wasn’t long before he saw the outline of his vessel. The bronze weathervane marked it as his, and only a few of the Danes remained on board. Styr gave the order for his men to release arrows, and within moments, the ship was theirs again.

It had grown so dark, they needed torches to see clearly, but his men took their positions at the oars. Styr took the rudder and the Irishmen removed their ropes, releasing his ship.

‘Thank you for looking after our sister,’ Ronan said. ‘But we’ll take her home now.’

‘Safe journey to you,’ Styr bade them. He searched for a glimpse of Caragh, but in the darkness, he could no longer see the far side of the boat where she’d been sitting. It seemed she had already voiced her farewell, and he’d not see her again.

It was likely for the best. At the moment, he needed to get his ship out to the open sea where they could open the sails and gain speed. The night was clear, and the full moon was bright. It would take many hours to reach the place of the green island. If the moonlight illuminated the shore, it was possible that they could make camp at the site where Elena and Ragnar had disappeared.

Gods, but he was grateful to be back on board his own ship. His men began to row, using their strength to move the boat across the waves.

When Styr took his place at the side rudder, he spied a lone figure, huddled within a cloak.

And he knew.

Tearing off the cloak, he saw Caragh’s dark hair. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ His mind spun with the realisation that her brothers would think he’d stolen her. He needed to take her back, and—

‘Coming with you.’ She stood aboard the ship and reached for one of the torches. Holding it, she stood across from her brothers’ boat, lifting her hand to them. ‘And now they know that this was my choice.’

‘They’ll come after you.’

She shook her head. ‘No. I spoke with Brendan. He knew what I planned to do.’

‘Why?’ he demanded, taking the torch from her and returning it to the iron sconce. ‘You have no place with us.’

‘Don’t I?’ She regarded him steadily, taking a seat near the rudder. ‘All my life, I’ve done what others told me to do. I obeyed my parents and my brothers. I stayed at home and did what I could to take care of Brendan. I’ve never done anything that I wanted to do. Not until now.’

She lowered her voice so that only he could hear her. ‘You kissed me back.’

‘Yes.’ He offered no excuses for it, but there were none to give.

‘I just wanted to stay with you, until the end,’ she whispered.

And then, he understood. She needed to know if Elena was alive, to know whether or not he would return to his wife. But more, she wanted to know whether he felt any love for her at all.

His chest tightened, holding back the words of dishonour. Caragh’s bright spirit and her fascination with new experiences and places made it easy to enjoy her presence. Around her, he could be himself. He didn’t have to think about the way she wanted him to act or whether or not the moon was in the correct phase to have a child.

He could simply be.

‘Stay,’ he said. He refused to think of the implications, or worry about what the morning would bring if he found Elena. But the thought of finding his wife no longer brought a sense of relief or joy. It was an obligation he had to fulfil.

The thought of living with her, sensing her disappointment in his inability to give her a child…made him wary. He knew the truth of his marriage. It had reached the breaking point, and he didn’t know what he wanted any more. Elena hadn’t been happy in years.

But if he ended their union, she had another choice. She could find another man to marry, and perhaps have the baby she wanted. He didn’t have to imprison her in a marriage filled with resentment and lost hopes.

He could set both of them free. All he had to do was speak the words of divorce in the presence of witnesses.

And Thor’s blood, it tempted him. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in her scent. Wishing it was Caragh who belonged to him.

She took his hand, gazing up at the stars. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

He leaned in, his hand catching the hair at her nape. Without taking his eyes from her, he admitted, ‘Yes.’

He didn’t know how long they sat beside one another, but he held her hand in his, grateful for her presence.

The winds eased their travel, bringing them near to the green stone within a few hours. The fragment of rock rose up from the sea, coated in moss and grasses. the sight of it, reflected against the moonlit sea, tightened the nerves inside of Caragh. From the moment Styr saw it, he’d grown more distant, as if plagued by thoughts he wouldn’t voice. The men drew the ship in as close as they dared, and Styr carried her to the shore, never minding that his clothes grew soaked in the sea.

They made camp, building a fire and eating the food his men had brought along with them. Though she knew she ought to be tired, a restlessness heightened within Caragh. And when they made camp, Styr set up her tent far away from the others.

Away from him.

She lay inside the shelter, darkness enveloping her. When she’d dared to come with Styr, she’d not imagined what it would do to her heart. It was a physical ache to be apart from him. Right now, she wanted to lie beside him, to feel the powerful warmth of his body against hers. She needed him in a way she didn’t understand.

And when she crossed the camp of sleeping Norsemen, she entered Styr’s tent, not knowing whether or not he would let her stay.

He jerked awake at the slight sound when she moved through the opening, and she said, ‘It’s me,’ before he could draw a weapon.

Styr let out a sigh and she heard the sound of a blade slipping back within its sheath. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘I didn’t want to be alone this night,’ she admitted. ‘I just wanted to sleep beside you. If you will allow it. I needed—’

You, she wanted to say. But she didn’t finish the words, afraid he would turn her away.

For a time, she could hear only the sound of his breathing. She sensed an invisible tension, as if he were making a decision.

‘I’ll go, if that’s what you want,’ she whispered, frustrated with herself for even daring to ask.

But his hand caught hers, and he dragged her down upon him, seizing her mouth in a kiss. He wasn’t wearing armour, and the touch of his hard, bare chest was dizzying. His skin was so warm, she found herself unable to stop from moving her hands over him, exploring his flesh. Every ridged muscle, the fine texture of his hair.

He stole her breath, and she felt as if she could touch him for ever.

‘You shouldn’t be here, Caragh,’ he said.

‘I know.’ He was right. Even to be in his presence like this was so terribly wrong. ‘I didn’t come here for this,’ she admitted. ‘I just wanted to lie beside you for one last night.’

He drew her against him, her back nestled against his chest, his arms around her. But instead of lending comfort, her heart beat faster. Every part of her body craved more. And she couldn’t understand it.

Against her hips, she felt the rise of his arousal and knew that he was not unaffected, either. It was a grim torture, for she wanted him in a way she shouldn’t.

‘I wed Elena when I was Brendan’s age,’ Styr began. ‘Our parents arranged it.’

It was the first time she’d heard him openly speak of his marriage, and she reached for his hand, saying nothing.

‘Elena was beautiful, and I knew the arrangement would bring together our tribes.’ He released her hand, bringing both of his arms around her. ‘She was a quiet woman but strong in her own way.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She planned every moment of her day, from the time she rose to the time she fell asleep at night. She worked in our garden every morning, wove cloth or sewed in the afternoon, and cleaned our house every evening. Each day, exactly the same. There was never any change, but she didn’t want it to be different. It was her own sort of control, her own power.’

His hand moved to hers. ‘We were happy for a time, but she wanted a child. I couldn’t give that to her.’

Beneath his voice, she sensed his frustration.

‘We tried for years,’ he admitted. ‘And never once did her belly grow round with my child. Elena believed the gods were punishing us for something we did. Or didn’t do.’

Caragh turned to face him. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she whispered. ‘Some men and women are not blessed with children.’

‘The first two years, we kept trying,’ he said. ‘During the full moon or during the crescent. At night and during the morning, until we couldn’t bear the sight of each other.’ His hand came to touch the side of her face. ‘It was impossible to please her.’

‘Why did you stay?’ she ventured, not knowing how he would respond. A fragile hope burrowed within her heart, that perhaps there might be a chance for the two of them.

‘Because I didn’t want to give up. A warrior never surrenders in any battle. It’s not my way.’

‘And now?’ Caragh asked, resting her hand upon his heart. His legs were tangled with hers, and although his body remained aroused, it didn’t threaten her.

‘I thought of sailing away, of giving her distance.’ He covered her hand with his, before bringing it to rest at her waist. ‘When I offered to leave, she said she would come with me.’

He expelled a breath. ‘This, from the woman who never altered her day by a single moment.’

‘She didn’t want to give up on your marriage, either,’ Caragh said, her throat closing up. She could understand that. If she were wedded to a man like Styr, she would follow him across the seas.

But hearing the truth from him only warned that there would be no happiness for them. Not if he and Elena wanted to stay together.

He said nothing, but only held her tighter against him. ‘Every day I’ve spent with you is a betrayal of her.’ The words were a blade twisted inside her, wounding her heart. Then he added, ‘I won’t forget a single moment of it, Caragh. Or you.’

His embrace only deepened the heartbreak. But leaving him now would only heighten the loneliness. Her eyes blurred, and she admitted, ‘I shouldn’t have come here.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it only makes me desire you more.’ She started to sit up, and he caught her wrist.

‘I can’t give you an answer,’ he admitted. ‘Not until I see her.’

‘You’re her husband. I understand that.’ Though she tried to keep the pain from her words, they caught in her throat. ‘You must go to her.’

‘I have to see that she is provided for.’ He kept his hold upon her wrist, drawing her back against him. His hands moved down her side in a caress. ‘And if she wants to return to Hordafylke, I will arrange it.’

‘Without you?’ she ventured.

He turned her upon her back, his body above hers. ‘What do you think?’

She couldn’t breathe from the intensity of heat that rushed over her. Against the juncture of her thighs, she felt the hardened length of his shaft, and she couldn’t stop herself from opening to him. Between her legs, she ached, and even her breasts were sensitive to the weight of him.

‘She deserves to be happy,’ he said. ‘And perhaps it shouldn’t be with me.’

Caragh shielded her heart from the wild hope that beat within her. Though she wanted desperately to believe that he might divorce his wife and stay with her, he’d made no promises.

‘You deserve to be happy, too,’ she whispered, reaching her arms around his torso.

He shook his head. ‘The gods have cursed me. For I have no sons or daughters to carry on my blood.’ He moved to his side, drawing his hand over her hip.

She recognised the warning. He was telling her that even if they did come together, there might never be a child. But she didn’t want to believe it.

‘You might…with me,’ she whispered. She couldn’t believe she had dared to speak of such a thing. Not when they had been so careful to avoid touching.

‘Do you want to know what it would be like?’ His whisper was a half-growl, and she wasn’t sure what he meant by that.

‘Yes,’ she breathed, ‘but it would be wrong.’

‘I won’t lay a hand upon you,’ he said, his voice resonant within the darkness.

‘But I don’t—’

‘You’re going to touch yourself.’