‘Is this true?’ Ronan asked of his sister. ‘How long has Brendan been gone?’
‘It’s true,’ she admitted. ‘He’s been gone a few days now. We were going to begin our search today.’
‘And who else was going to accompany you?’ Terence asked. ‘You weren’t planning to go off with this Lochlannach on your own, were you?’
A flash of anger darkened Caragh’s face. ‘And what choice did I have? You and Ronan left me here alone. I didn’t know when—or even if—you were coming back.’
‘Brendan was supposed to defend you,’ Terence countered.
‘And a fine job he did,’ she shot back. ‘He and his friends stole a ship and disappeared.’
Ronan came forwards, his expression sombre. ‘We never intended to be gone longer than a sennight. I’m sorry if Brendan failed in his duty to you.’ His gaze shifted to Styr. ‘How many were killed in the attack?’
‘Two of yours,’ Styr said. He crossed his arms and warned, ‘If your brother was foolish enough to take only a few men with him, it wouldn’t surprise me if my men feigned capture and took back the ship. There were more of my men than yours.’
Caragh paled. ‘Do you think Brendan is still alive?’ There was a stricken note in her voice, as if she hadn’t wanted to believe otherwise. Styr gave no answer. If he’d been among his men, he wouldn’t have hesitated to lash back at those who had dared to threaten Elena. It was possible that his men had already killed her brother.
‘We’ll know when we find my ship,’ was all he could say.
‘We will accompany you,’ Ronan said. He took a step forwards, resting his hand back on his dagger. ‘We’ve brought back more grain and other supplies that will serve us well for the journey. I’ve also arranged for more sheep and cattle to arrive later.’ He sent a pointed look towards his sister. ‘Caragh, you will remain here.’
‘No, I won’t.’ She moved between them, her face flushed. ‘The last time you left, I nearly starved to death. If it weren’t for Styr, I’d have run out of food.’ She continued talking, jabbing her finger at her older brother. ‘I’m weary of staying behind, and I won’t do it. I trust him, more than I do either of you, to find food. He helped me find crab, and fish, and—’
‘I thought you took him captive?’ Terence interrupted.
‘I did. It took almost an hour to get him chained up. Seon helped me, but they killed—’ Her words broke off, and she took a deep breath to hold back the emotion.
Terence sobered at the mention of the old man, and Caragh composed herself. ‘Enough of this. What matters now is finding Brendan.’
‘There’s also the problem of you spending several nights alone with this man,’ Ronan pointed out.
Caragh’s face turned scarlet, and Styr stiffened, waiting for her to confess that he was married and nothing had happened between them. Instead, she reached up to touch his face. ‘Don’t harm him, Ronan. He’s a good man. One who has defended me, given me food, and one who...I have come to care for.’
Styr froze in place as Caragh came up before him, standing on tiptoe. Before he could protest, she pulled his face down to hers, kissing him lightly. What was she doing? He couldn’t—
Every thought deserted him when she deepened the kiss, daring more. He understood that this was a false kiss, one meant to reassure her brothers that he wasn’t going to harm her. It was a ruse, and that was all.
The softness of her lips upon his were innocent, unknowing of the ways between a man and a woman. It startled him, and instinct warned him to break it off. But the gentle kiss reached inside his stony heart and breathed life into him.
He couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had affected him in this way. His body and mind were at war, his honour caught up in the softness of a woman’s mouth.
Caragh was trying to deceive her brothers. He understood that this kiss was only her effort to spare his life, though he didn’t need her protection.
She continued kissing him, but a dark rage blistered inside him, that she would try to use him in this way. Did she honestly believe that he would betray Elena for a woman he hardly knew?
She wanted him to kiss her back, to continue the deception. But if he kissed her back, he intended it to be on his terms—not hers.
* * *
Caragh wasn’t about to let her brothers slaughter the Lochlannach. The kiss was a reckless act, one meant to fool them into believing she and Styr had come to love each other.
But Styr was standing there in shock, not at all returning the kiss. Her brothers were going to see right through it, to know that she was making this up. His life blood would be upon her hands, and he wouldn’t be able to save Elena.
This means nothing, she willed to him silently. Kiss me back and help me deceive them.
She opened her mouth, wondering if he would ever play along with this. Without warning, his hands seized her face, his mouth conquering hers. Heat poured through her, his tongue sliding within her mouth. She couldn’t breathe from the intensity of the desire that poured through her.
It was dark and punishing, a man who refused to be bent to a woman’s will. And God help her, she had no choice but to surrender. His lips were hard, his tongue invading her mouth with a forbidden power that weakened her knees.
At this moment, she forgot about her brothers standing there. She forgot about honour and promises, completely captivated by the forbidden kiss.
She clung to Styr, knowing her legs would never support her. The kiss was carnal, as if they had already been illicit lovers. And when he broke free, his eyes held fury.
Her lips were swollen, and Caragh no longer knew what to say. Silently, she apologised, but his eyes were upon her brothers.
‘We’re leaving now,’ he said. ‘If you want to bring your supplies and join us in searching for your younger brother, I’ll prepare the boat.’
Caragh’s heart was pounding, her breathing unsteady as he strode off towards the shore. He was livid with her for daring to kiss him, for forcing him into this position.
She shouldn’t have done it. She’d only meant to fool her brothers, to give them a reason to leave Styr alone. Instead, she’d forced the Lochlannach into a betrayal he hadn’t wanted. Likely he despised her, and she desperately wanted to beg his forgiveness.
‘Come with us, if you like,’ she said to her brothers, trailing after Styr. She stopped only once to pick up the basket of preserved fish and a container of water, hurrying down to the shoreline.
* * *
‘She’s lying,’ Terence predicted. ‘If our sister is in love with that Lochlannach, then I’ve grown a pair of wings.’
Ronan studied Caragh and the way she’d run after the Viking. She was wanting to protect the man, but for what reason, he couldn’t fathom. It had been almost a year since he’d seen his sister show any interest in a man. Kelan had broken her heart, and she’d shunned any of the others who might have taken the man’s place.
Until now. Whether or not there was anything between them, there was no doubt the kiss had affected Caragh.
‘I want to watch them together,’ Ronan mused. ‘She should marry. It’s been too long since Kelan.’
‘But a Lochlannach?’ Terence eyed the man warily. ‘They’re not to be trusted. And did you forget, he nearly killed me just now?’
‘If that were his intent, you’d be dead,’ he countered. ‘You shouldn’t have taunted him.’ Ronan would have done the same, had he been in the Viking’s place. ‘When Kelan tried to steal, he fought on her behalf. I saw him go after the man.’
‘And you want our sister with a man who can’t control his temper?’
‘He was controlling it,’ Ronan said. ‘Just as he did when he threatened you.’ At his brother’s grimace, he continued, ‘I want her with a man who can defend her. I don’t doubt this Lochlannach would protect her from every harm.’ He handed the horses to Terence. ‘Bring our supplies and leave the animals with Iona. We’ll accompany our sister to Áth Cliath, as she sugg
ested.’
His gaze passed over Caragh and Styr, who were standing near the boat. His sister had been unhappy for too long. Although he didn’t believe there was anything between them, his sister had defended the man. She did care about his welfare, whatever the reason.
Terence walked at his side along the shore. ‘You don’t think he’ll harm her?’
Ronan shook his head. ‘I won’t pass judgement over him until I’ve watched them together. But if he isn’t to be trusted, we’ll leave him behind in Áth Cliath.’
His brother shot him a sidelong glance. ‘You’re matchmaking, aren’t you?’
Ronan stopped walking, holding his brother back while he studied Caragh and the Lochlannach. ‘Only if he’s worthy of her.’
‘If he’s not, there might be an “accident”,’ Terence suggested.
Ronan absently rubbed his beard, staring at the two of them. Whether or not his sister realised it, the Viking never took his eyes off her. The man most definitely had feelings towards Caragh, but Ronan couldn’t guess whether it was lust or something more.
‘We’ll know within a day,’ he predicted. ‘Give them a moment before we join them.’
As he observed the pair of them, he saw the way his sister was looking at Styr. It had been a year since he’d held her while she’d wept upon the evening of her wedding. The day Kelan had ruined by abandoning her, for love of another. He’d watched his sister retreat into herself, spending all of her time with the elderly folk of their tribe. She’d thrown herself into service, as if trying to escape her own life.
And when their parents had died, she’d not allowed herself to grieve, but instead had taken responsibility for Brendan.
Caragh needed a life of her own and a man to give her a home and children. If this Lochlannach could bring back the sister he loved, so be it.
But if he dared to break her heart, Ronan wouldn’t hesitate to tear the man apart.
Chapter Six
‘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.
Michelle Willingham Page 8