Читать книгу Forbidden Nights With A Viking - Michelle Willingham, Harper St. George - Страница 21

Caragh walked through the neat rows of barley, pulling a few stray weeds. Her brothers had gone out fishing, and she’d busied herself with inspecting the harvest. It would not ripen for another few months, but at least they had the promise of more grain to sustain them. The tribe had planted more, after the seeds Terence and Ronan had brought back from their travels. She hoped that the sun and rain would be kind to them this season, allowing them to restore their losses.

Despite the countless hours she’d spent working, it did nothing to diminish the heartache. She’d let herself love Styr, and it burned to know that once again, the man she’d cared about had chosen someone else.

She strode through the fields, hastening her pace. It wouldn’t do to dwell on it any more. She’d known from the beginning that he was not free to be with her. As she crossed through the open meadow, she shielded her eyes to the morning sun. There was her brothers’ boat, moving out to sea. And to the east…another ship.

She frowned, not recognising it at first. Was it the fishermen returning to Gall Tír?

But when she saw the striped sail, her stomach plummeted. The Lochlannach had returned. For what purpose? Were they invaders or was it Styr’s ship? Neither was particularly welcome.

She hurried down to the shore, grasping her skirts. Some of the elderly Ó Brannons were busy scraping hides while others prepared meat for drying. Caragh went out as far as she dared, peering hard at the water. And when she saw the bronze weathervane of Styr’s ship, her tension didn’t diminish.

Why had he come? Was he wanting to settle here with his wife and later, their children? The thought of seeing him each day with Elena filled her with a crushing pain. A part of her wanted to flee, to hide where he wouldn’t find her. But then, she wasn’t a coward. She might not know why he had returned, but she would stand here and face him.

She sat upon a large stone on the water’s edge, waiting. His ship drew closer, until at last, she saw him tying up the sail, steering closer to land.

He was still as handsome as she remembered, his dark gold hair tied back. The weather had grown warmer, and he wore no armour this time.

And then he saw her waiting. His stare locked with hers, as if remembering the night they’d shared together.

Caragh studied the boat but saw that he had come with only two men. Elena was not with them.

If she could have shielded her heart with stone, she would have. Styr had left her behind, choosing the woman he’d married and their unborn child. There was nothing that would change that.

He strode through the water, moving towards her. The waves sloshed around his thighs, but he ignored the frigid water. ‘We need to talk,’ he said.

‘I have nothing to say to you. Or to your wife.’ She stood from the stone, ignoring him.

‘Elena is not my wife any more,’ he called out to her back. Her face flooded with colour, but she continued walking away. Whether it was true or a lie, a storm of confusion muddled her thoughts. When she reached the grassy hillside, she stopped walking but didn’t look back at him.

Was he expecting her to fall into his arms, to somehow rejoice that she was his second choice? Had something happened to Elena or their unborn child?

Anger and sorrow choked her, but Caragh got no further before he caught up with her, catching her in his arms. ‘As I said, we need to talk.’

‘Put me down,’ she demanded, trying to push her way out of his arms. When he only tightened his grip, she relented. ‘All right, I’ll talk with you. But not here.’

Not where others could see her being carried off by a Lochlannach. Styr didn’t appear to trust her promise, for he didn’t let her down at all. ‘It’s been too many weeks, søtnos.’ He embraced her, as if he wanted to meld her skin into his.

In passing, he nodded to his men who had begun unloading their ship, carrying her past the ringfort and towards the open meadow.

‘Styr, please,’ she said. ‘I can walk.’

‘I don’t want you to run away,’ was his response. ‘You’ve a right to be angry, but we’ll talk in private.’

‘What about your child?’ she asked. ‘If you’re no longer married to Elena—’ Her words broke off as she realised what had likely happened. Even to mention it was cruel.

‘There never was a child,’ he admitted. ‘She believed there was, but it was a mistake.’

In his voice, she heard a trace of regret, almost as if he wished the child had come to be. ‘Please, let me down,’ Caragh repeated.

He did, but he didn’t release her wrists. His grip was firm enough to remind her that he wasn’t going to let go.

‘What do you want from me?’ she asked quietly. ‘Why did you come back?’

He took her face between his hands and kissed her hard. His hands tangled in her long hair, pulling her to him as he coaxed her mouth. The familiar rush poured through her with awakening desire. And though she accepted his kiss, she didn’t return it.

‘You’re angry,’ he murmured against her mouth.

‘You can’t believe that I’ll let you come from another woman’s bed into mine.’ She turned her face from him, hiding the hurt within.

‘I never lay with her. Nor did I touch her.’

Caragh shook her head. ‘It’s too soon, Styr.’ To her embarrassment, the weeks of hurt welled up within her, and she blurted out, ‘You had no choice, I know. But I don’t want my heart to bleed like that a second time.’

‘It won’t,’ he swore. ‘I don’t intend to leave you again.’

His intense gaze reached inside her, pushing back against the barriers around her heart.

‘I don’t know what’s right any more,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps we should be friends for a time,’ she offered. ‘We could get to know one another without…’

‘Without Elena between us,’ he finished.

She nodded.

A dark expression came over his face, as if he didn’t like the idea of waiting. His hands moved down to the base of her spine, and he remarked, ‘I won’t be bringing you flowers or trying to win your heart, Caragh.’ He reached below her hips, picking her up until her body was flush against his.

‘I’m a Lochlannach. And I take what I want.’ To emphasise his words, he kissed her, invading her mouth with his tongue. He ravaged her mouth like the warrior he was, claiming and consuming her until she was breathless. Against her body, she felt the length of his arousal, and it sent a rush of need between her legs.

His mouth travelled down her jaw, to the soft part of her throat. ‘Perhaps you’ll be my prisoner, this time.’

Her mind spun with images of being chained and at his mercy. A sigh escaped her when he lowered her again, sliding her against him.

But she raised her chin and said, ‘No.’ Before he could carry her off again, she pointed a finger to his chest. ‘I hardly know you. And you know very little about me.’

‘You like food,’ he offered. ‘And you’re not fond of sailing.’

‘I’m not fond of drowning,’ she corrected. She’d learned to overcome her dislike of the water, especially after she’d continued to fish alongside her brothers. Never again would she let her fear prevent them from getting food.

‘You like the colour blue, and you have a sense of adventure. You like to try new things.’ He took her hand in his, and added, ‘You cheat when we play games.’

‘I do not!’

‘I saw you move a few pieces when you thought I was distracted.’

He’d seen that? She frowned, but before she could say anything, he finished with, ‘And you like kissing me.’

‘Sometimes,’ she admitted.

Styr took her hand in his, leading her up to the open meadow where new sheep grazed upon the tall grasses. ‘I brought you gifts from Dubh Linn,’ he told her.

Caragh tried to keep the interest from her face. She couldn’t let herself be swayed by offerings, but he said, ‘Come to the boat and I’ll give them to you.’

A sense of warning flared up. ‘If I go with you now, you’ll steal me away.’

He cocked his head. ‘Would it be so bad to spend a night with me on the boat, watching the stars?’

It did tempt her, and he offered, ‘I’d take you south to the lands of the sun. Where the warmth would change the colour of your skin darker.’ He traced a single finger down her throat, and the touch burned through her.

‘You would taste foods you’ve never had before. Spices and wine that linger upon your tongue.’

‘Would I see my brothers again?’ she ventured, going along with the dream.

He nodded. ‘Whenever you wanted to go back, I would take you there.’

His hand moved around her waist, but she stopped walking. ‘What happened with your wife? Tell me.’

‘I already did. She learned there was no child, and she divorced me.’

Elena had divorced him? At her shocked expression, he continued, ‘She saw us together before you left with your brothers.’

Her face darkened with shame. ‘I didn’t mean to come between you, Styr. And I shouldn’t have gone to you that night. It was wrong of me.’

His fingers moved up her ribs in a light caress. ‘I haven’t stopped thinking of it, Caragh. Only the next time, I want my hands upon you.’

A flare of desire shuddered through her at the thought. But she couldn’t simply drop the shields around her battered heart. ‘I want a man who will protect and love me.’ She raised her eyes to his, the apprehension rising within her. ‘But I need time.’

Another barrier hung between them, and she questioned whether or not to voice it. His first marriage had ended because there had been no children. Though she didn’t want to hurt him, neither did she want to ignore the truth. If she chose him for a husband, there was a very real possibility that he could not give her children.

‘There is time now,’ he acceded. ‘I’ve come to stay, Caragh.’ His hand moved to touch the small of her back, and the gesture made her next words all the more difficult.

‘I won’t deny that I’ve missed you,’ she began, trying to choose the right words that needed to be spoken. ‘And my feelings haven’t changed.’ She took a breath and met his eyes. ‘But you only left her because she could not bear you a child. What if the same thing happens to us?’

Her words were a sharp blade between them, for he didn’t know if he could grant her a child. Though it was possible that it was Elena who was barren, Styr had known men who had married again and again, never to bear sons of their own. If he couldn’t give Caragh children, were they condemned to the same fate as his first marriage? Would she grow to hate him, pushing him away and not wanting to share his bed?

It was a truth he hadn’t wanted to face.

The reality of her words made any other conversation impossible. He guided her back to the ringfort and found that Onund had brought their supplies to shore, anchoring the ship off the coast.

She made excuses about having to begin preparing a meal, But he caught her hand. ‘This isn’t finished, Caragh.’

She shook her head. ‘No. But I don’t know what to say to you or what to feel right now.’

He let her go, and once she’d disappeared into her own house, her brothers approached. Neither appeared pleased to see him. While Ronan kept a short distance away, eyeing Styr’s ship and the few men he’d brought with him, Terence made no effort to disguise his rage. He strode towards Styr, and when he reached him, he swung his fists.

Styr caught the man’s hand before it could strike his jaw, holding it in place. ‘I didn’t come to fight.’

‘That’s good, Lochlannach. It means I can kill you quicker.’ Terence followed up with his other fist, clipping Styr across the opposite jaw.

Pain radiated through him, but he smiled at the man, no longer caring that this was Caragh’s brother. ‘You won’t succeed.’ If the man wanted a fight, he welcomed the chance to release his frustration and anger.

‘You made her cry,’ her brother accused. ‘And now you dare to show your face again?’

‘I’m going to wed her. You’d best get used to my face.’ He circled the man, knowing that Terence wouldn’t fight fair. Not when it came to guarding his sister.

‘And what does your wife have to say about that?’ he taunted. Before Styr could respond, he added, ‘Brendan told us. Were you ever going to tell Caragh?’

‘She knew, from the beginning. And Elena is my wife no longer.’

Terence threw another punch that struck Styr in the ribs. He grunted against the pain and blocked another blow.

‘You’re nothing but a bastard who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as Caragh,’ he taunted. ‘She should have left you chained to rot.’

Without warning, the man unsheathed a blade, darting towards Styr. He saw a piece of driftwood lying nearby, and when Terence lunged, he dodged the strike and reached for the wood, using it to block the man.

In one swift motion, he swung the wood towards Terence’s head, intending to knock the man unconscious. But at the last second, he heard Caragh cry out, and he halted the motion.

She came running from her home, and the distraction rewarded him with a slice against his arm.

‘Terence, don’t!’ Caragh exclaimed, rushing forwards. Though his arm bled freely, Styr didn’t think the wound was too deep. He was amused when Caragh drew her hand into a fist and punched her brother in the shoulder before she came to his side. ‘That’s enough. Leave him alone.’

Terence sent them both a dark look, but relented.

‘Why were you fighting?’ she demanded, urging Styr to sit so she could tend the wound.

It occurred to him that he could take advantage of the minor cut, especially if it meant she would tend him. ‘He was angry at me for hurting you. And he thought I’d lied to you about Elena.’

Caragh found a cloth and dipped it in water, washing the blood away. She held it in place, informing Terence, ‘You will not harm him. Whatever comes is between the two of us. Not you.’

The desire for murder burned in Terence’s eyes. To Styr, he ordered, ‘You don’t hurt her again. If she cries one tear because of you, I’ll—’

‘Go and eat,’ Caragh interrupted. ‘Both of you. I’ll join you soon.’

‘He’s not eating with us,’ Terence insisted. ‘Let him dine on seaweed and whatever he can find crawling on the bottom of the sea.’

Styr said nothing, knowing that he’d have done the same for his own sisters.

‘Go,’ she repeated.

Her older brother Ronan started to guide Terence away, and he added, ‘We’ll expect you to join us soon.’ The unspoken words were: Or we’ll come and fetch you.

‘I’ll come when I want to. Not before.’ She crossed her arms, glaring at them.

‘You deserve better than a man like him,’ Terence said.

‘I deserve the right to choose.’ Waving them on, Caragh stood firm on her decision. She waited until they’d gone, before turning back to Styr. ‘Will you be all right?’

He didn’t answer at first. ‘It might grow poisoned from the blade.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a scratch.’

‘And what if it gets worse?’ he prompted. ‘What if I get a fever and you have to stay all night at my bedside?’

‘I could cut it off and save myself the trouble,’ she remarked drily. ‘See, it’s stopped bleeding already.’

This wasn’t at all working the way he wanted to. ‘I’d like it if you stayed all night at my side. The way you did a few weeks ago.’

Her face flushed. ‘Styr, I can’t.’

‘Then you’ll return to your brothers, feed them, tuck them into their beds at night, and never marry. Is that it?’

‘There’s no harm in taking care of my family.’

‘They’re grown men. They should marry and have their own families,’ he said. Though she’d cared for them over the course of the past year, he wanted her to break free of them.

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.

‘I have a meal prepared,’ she answered. ‘It’s enough.’

‘Bring some of the food in a basket,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you out on the water, and we’ll sail and eat.’

She cast a reluctant glance towards the hut. ‘How do I know you’ll bring me back?’

‘My men are here,’ he pointed out. ‘I’m not about to abandon them.’ When she didn’t answer, he added, ‘And you’ll see the gifts I brought for you.’

In her eyes, he saw the slight interest, and he took her hand, leading her along the shore. ‘Will you come?’

Caragh wasn’t certain why she’d decided to sail away with Styr, but the idea of leaving everything behind and feeling the wind in her face was suddenly appealing. She closed her eyes, breathing in the salty air while the sun warmed her face. When she opened them, she saw Styr’s taut muscles flexing as he fought the power of the wind.

He caught her watching him, and his gaze turned heated. As if there was no one else in the world but the two of them.

He’d never openly pursued her, and it took a strong effort to guard her heart. For so long, Elena had been between them. And now, he had ended that path, choosing Caragh instead.

What if he found her wanting? The lack of a child had torn apart his first marriage, and she feared that it might happen again. She’d been honest with him; she did want a baby. She wanted to feel the warmth of an infant against her breast, touching the small feet and curled fists. It might not happen if she wed him. And if it did not, would it come between them?

‘Keep looking at me like that, søtnos, and I’ll never take you back again.’

She braved a smile, and he tied off the ropes, coming to sit before her. ‘Do you want to see the gifts I’ve brought?’

‘You didn’t need to bring me anything,’ she began, though it was difficult to push back her curiosity.

Styr reached into the bag and showed her a length of crimson silk. She touched it, and marvelled at the softness of the cloth. ‘I’ve never felt anything like this before.’

‘You’ll sew a gown from it. And wear it on the day we wed.’

She brought it to her cheek, a rise of nerves gathering in her stomach at the thought. Though she wanted to wed him, a thousand doubts and fears made her nervous.

‘We should sell it,’ she suggested. ‘The harvest might fail, and—’

‘It won’t.’ He folded up the cloth and set it aside. ‘Caragh, there’s nothing wrong with accepting gifts of value.’

‘We have so little,’ she confessed. ‘I can’t forget what it was like when we nearly starved. I don’t ever want to face that again.’

‘You will become accustomed to wearing finery, as a jarl’s wife.’

‘But my brother Ronan is chief,’ she protested.

‘My men will not follow an Irish leader.’ He stared out at the horizon, and pointed to the stretch of green lands further inland. ‘We will settle there, near the river. And you will be their lady.’

She’d never dreamed of such a life, or of such responsibilities. But she could see that it meant a great deal to Styr.

‘My brothers own those lands,’ she reminded him.

He inclined his head as if he’d expected this. ‘I will negotiate for the territory, in return for grain, livestock, and more silver. Your people will not know hunger again.’ He proved his words by withdrawing a small leather pouch. Inside, Caragh found a great deal of silver and gold.

‘When I returned to Áth Cliath, I relieved the Norsemen of their wealth,’ he admitted. ‘They should have known better than to wager against me.’

She closed the pouch and handed it back. ‘I thought you wanted to sail across the seas to distant lands.’

He turned back to look at her, as if he were startled that she’d remembered. ‘Some day, perhaps.’ He withdrew a folded piece of leather and passed it to her. ‘These came from the southern lands.’

Inside, Caragh found oval-shaped nuts that were sticky to the touch.

‘Those are almonds, dipped in honey,’ he told her. ‘The traders brought them to the city.’

She savoured the honeyed almonds, holding them in her mouth until at last she tasted the crunch of the nuts. When she offered one to Styr, he raised her fingers to his mouth, kissing the tips as he took the almond. Then, he rested his arm at her waist, sitting beside her while the boat took them along the coast. The wind had slowed, but she enjoyed the way the vessel skimmed the water.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘Does it matter?’ His hand moved up her spine, his gaze upon her.

No, it didn’t. Being with him, knowing that he’d sailed hundreds of miles to return to her, was a strong temptation. Her head argued that she needed to be careful, to guard her heart.

He didn’t choose you, her head warned. He chose Elena first.

She closed her eyes, silencing the words she didn’t want to face. Caragh stared out at the sea, admitting, ‘I am glad you returned.’ His hand moved up her back in a soft caress, weakening her resolve. Somehow, she forced herself to continue. ‘But I’m also afraid.’

‘Of what?’

‘What if I cannot bear you a child, either?’ Though she didn’t want to push him away, she felt the need to confront the barrier that had driven Styr and Elena apart. She loved him, but his first marriage had broken apart without a child.

He cut her off, touching his hand to her lips. ‘We can speak of it later, Caragh. For now, I want this time with you.’

Her protests fell silent at that. He was right. They had been apart for nearly another month, and she had missed him desperately.

She moved her hand to his chest, unable to resist slipping her hand beneath his tunic. His skin was warm and firm, his muscles taut beneath her fingertips. He inhaled when she touched him, and he moved her hand away for a moment while he removed his tunic. His body was bared to her, and she saw the years of strength and pain scarring his chest.

‘I did miss you,’ Caragh said again. She couldn’t resist running her hands over him. Her fingertips grazed his nipples, and they hardened, his body responding to her. When she bent and touched her lips to his skin, needing to taste him, he let out a groan, his hands catching in her hair.

‘Show me how much,’ Styr demanded. He laid her back on the bottom of the vessel, lying beside her. His mouth was on hers, hungrily kissing her until she wrapped both arms around him.

So very much, she wanted to whisper. Her body was aching as his tongue slid against hers, his hands loosening the ties of her gown.

When she touched him, rubbing her hands over his scalp, caressing a path down his neck, he froze.

‘You don’t have to touch me,’ he said. ‘I’d rather take care of you.’ To show her what he meant, he touched her ankle, his hand stroking a path up to her knee.

The words struck her cold, and she frowned. ‘But why? Is there something wrong?’

He eyed her, his face masked as if he didn’t understand why she desired him.

‘Styr,’ she said quietly, ‘I’m not Elena. And I want to touch you. I need to.’

His skin revealed gooseflesh as the wind moved over him. Caragh placed her hands upon his shoulders, exploring his skin with her hands. He stiffened at the touch, but she massaged the skin, caressing him as she learned the planes of his body.

She replaced her hands with her mouth, kissing him the way she’d wanted to. It seemed so forbidden, to draw her mouth and tongue over the firm shoulders, her hands reaching forwards to touch his chest. He let out a hiss of air when her hands moved lower.

She held her hands upon his stomach, too nervous to dare any more.

‘My turn,’ he growled. His eyes were heated, and she hesitated to allow it.

‘Perhaps we shouldn’t start this now,’ she hedged.

‘You think I’ll give you a choice, søtnos?’ He moved to sit behind her, drawing her hips between his legs. She felt the undeniable heat of his erection against her spine.

Styr began with her hair, touching her scalp the way she’d touched him. His hands moved down to her neck, where he found the tension and gently worked out the knots. She leaned her head down, her hair falling over one shoulder. It was so relaxing, having him touch her in this way. But when she felt him loosening her gown more, she froze.

‘Don’t be afraid of me,’ he urged, and he lowered the gown to her waist. The wind blew over her bare breasts, making her nipples grow erect. His palms moved over her back, massaging warmth into her skin, drawing her beneath his spell.

And when he moved His hands over her breasts, she gave a cry, pushing back against his hips when he cupped her. His thumbs moved over her nipples, drawing out the tips and sending a rush of desire between her legs. She was wet, aching for him to fill her. With every caress of her breasts, she felt the answering throb between her legs. Her hands gripped his thighs, her body shaking as he palmed her, arousing her with only his hands.

She remembered the shocking heat of his mouth upon her nipple and how it had sent her past the brink. She wanted him desperately, but she hardly trusted herself around him. With Styr, the world dissolved, sending her spinning into sensations she’d only dreamed of. Caragh gripped his hands, pulling them away to free herself from the prison of desire.

He spoke to her in his native language, capturing her waist and turning her to face him. She tried to cover herself, but he captured her wrists.

‘Don’t hide your beauty from me.’

‘I’m not beautiful,’ she whispered. ‘I’m too thin.’

‘You were hungry,’ he corrected. ‘And that’s starting to change.’ His hand moved from her cheek, down lower, to the curve of her breast. ‘I’m not leaving you again, Caragh. If I have to steal you away from Éire, I will.’

She trembled as the wind caught up, cooling her skin. Styr drew her to him, until her bare breasts touched his chest. Both of them were cold, but the contact of his flesh only quickened her breathing.

‘You’re mine,’ he said, holding her to him with her head tucked beneath his chin.

I want to be. But the fears and uncertainties pushed to the surface of her courage. It would be so easy to simply open her arms to Styr, rejoicing in his return. Yet, she couldn’t forget the countless nights when she’d cried herself to sleep, mourning the loss of him. She’d become a hollow shell of a woman, hating the person she’d become.

She extricated herself from his embrace, pulling her gown back up. Taking a deep breath, she voiced the words that needed to be said. ‘But we still need to talk about what will happen to us if I cannot have children.’

‘We won’t know until we try.’

She took a breath, steadying herself. ‘Would you end our marriage?’

He stared at her, as if uncertain of what to say. His hesitation multiplied the fears inside her, but at last, he admitted, ‘Yes.’

The hurt balled up inside her, her throat closing up. She could not wed a man who wanted a child more than he wanted her.

‘It would be the right thing to do,’ he said quietly. ‘If I cannot give you a child, then I’ll let you go.’

His words were knives, slicing away at the tremulous fear within her. Did he truly believe that children were more important than all else? That she would want another man, all for the sake of a babe in her arms?

She tried to shield herself against the pain, voicing the other truth that plagued her. ‘If Elena were still carrying your child, you never would have left.’

His eyes grew harsh at the accusation. ‘What would you have me say?’ he demanded. ‘Never would I turn my back on my son.’

She had no answer for that. But she wanted so much more from Styr. She wanted him to love her, to be with her, even if there were never any children.

Was it worth risking her heart, knowing that he might break it a second time by leaving?

The heavy weight of silence spread between them, and she waited for him to speak, to say anything at all. She needed reassurance from him.

‘I love you,’ she said at last. ‘And I won’t lie to you. I do want a child. A son with your eyes, or a daughter with your smile.’

She reached out to touch his hand, and his arms stilled upon the oars. ‘But I won’t live from one month to the next, wondering if this will be the day when you leave me. I’d rather be alone than endure that heartache again.’