‘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 Lochlannach, 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 fi
sh 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.
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