‘Was she truly willing?’ Rurik questioned. ‘Or was she forced?’
He didn’t know, but he understood his brother’s questions. ‘You want to know about her past.’
Rurik agreed. ‘And if you kill Feann, I may never have those answers.’
Alarr shrugged and offered, ‘I could take him captive. After he confesses the truth, then I’ll kill him.’ He ventured a slight smile which Rurik returned.
‘You and I both know that holding Feann prisoner won’t give us any information at all. He’s not a man who would admit anything to us. Especially when it concerns our father.’ But Rurik’s mood had lifted, none the less. ‘I want to know about Saorla’s past, if there is a connection. Danr will want to know also.’ He hesitated and added, ‘It would be better if I went alone, before you arrive, to learn what I can.’
The idea didn’t sit well with Alarr, sending his brother off without anyone to guard him. ‘No. We go together or not at all.’
But Rurik stared back at him. ‘As you will. But know that I intend to learn Feann’s reason for the killings first. And once I have my answers, he is yours for vengeance.’
He clasped his brother’s hand in agreement. ‘So be it.’ Though he doubted if there was any connection between Feann and Saorla, he supposed there was no harm in asking.
They spoke of plans and possible ways to infiltrate the castle. Yet all the while, Alarr felt the sting of guilt for what he’d said to Breanne. He knew it had been necessary, but the sight of her stricken expression haunted him still. He had hurt her feelings, and he wished he could shut off his own response to her.
As they walked back towards the settlement, he caught sight of four riders approaching. They were dressed in the manner of the Irish, each wearing a long saffron léine and leather armour. They slowed when they reached Rurik and Alarr, eyeing them for a moment, but the riders did not stop. When they reached the gates, their leader spoke to the guards, and Styr’s men allowed them to enter.
‘Who are they?’ Rurik asked.
Alarr’s own suspicions were on alert. ‘I don’t know. But I intend to find out.’
* * *
Breanne followed Caragh towards the gates, after the young woman had told her about the visitors. To her shock, she saw three of her foster father’s men. One of them she recognised as Darin MacPherson, captain of Feann’s guards. He dismounted, along with the others, and tied his horse near a drinking trough. The moment he saw her, Darin smiled and bowed to her. ‘My lady, I am glad to see that you are well.’
A blend of emotions washed over her, for the captain was behaving as if she had only been travelling instead of being brought out of slavery. She nodded to him and managed to greet him, ‘It is good to see you once more, Darin.’
‘I received word from the Hardrata tribe, a day ago, that you were here.’
He glanced around at the fortress, but Breanne felt numb inside. She wanted to ask, Why did no one search for me? But more than that, Why didn’t Feann come with you?
It dug into her heart that her foster father had not searched for her. Finally, she asked, ‘Where is the king?’
‘He is travelling,’ Darin said. ‘He left just before you did. He has not returned yet.’
That lifted her spirits somewhat with the hope that perhaps her foster father had tried to find her. But she corrected Darin. ‘I didn’t leave. I was taken into slavery.’
The captain barely reacted to her words. She might as well have told him that she had gone to visit kinsmen. But he said, ‘I am sorry to hear of it. We came at once to bring you home.’
Breanne knew she ought to be grateful, but instead, her thoughts grew guarded. She couldn’t let go of her annoyance.
Before she could answer, another voice intruded. ‘She is going nowhere with you.’ Alarr stood beside Rurik, his hand resting upon the blade at his waist.
The silent threat was unmistakable. And she could almost hear the unspoken words: She belongs to me.
Anger flared up within her at his possessive behaviour. He had refused her offer of marriage and had treated her like dirt. Instead, she shot him a defiant look.
You hold no claim on me.
After what he’d said to her, she would not obey him. Her father’s men had come for her, and she intended to accompany them home.
She suspected Alarr had heard every word Darin had said. Likely, he intended to alter his plans now that he knew Feann was not at Killcobar.
The captain moved his hand to his own weapon. ‘Who is this, my lady? Is he a threat to you?’
Before she could answer, Alarr took a step closer. He placed his hand on the back of her neck in an unmistakable claim. ‘I am the man who bought her in the slave market.’
Her face reddened at his words, and her anger rose hotter. His hand tightened upon her nape in a silent warning.
‘Then we will repay you for her freedom,’ the captain said. To Breanne, he added, ‘Gather your belongings, my lady, and we can leave at once.’
Alarr’s fury was unmistakable. She suspected that it would take very little to provoke a fight between them. It irritated her that he was treating her like an object.
Caragh came forward to intervene. ‘I am certain that you and your men must be weary after your journey. We can discuss Breanne’s release after you have had something to eat and drink.’ There was a tangible strain in the air, but Caragh met the captain’s gaze, saying, ‘If you and your men follow me, that will give Breanne a few moments to gather her belongings.’
It was the opening she had been waiting for. Breanne reached back for Alarr’s hand and moved it off her neck. He gripped her palm in response and walked with her back to the dwelling they had once shared. The moment they went inside, Alarr spoke a sharp order and the men stood and departed the longhouse, leaving them alone.
Her anger flared once again, and she turned to face him. ‘I stayed with you because I believed you were taking me home. After all this time, I never felt like a slave in your presence. Until now.’
She moved towards the partition, but Alarr caught her by the arm. ‘I don’t trust the guards with you. Or any other man.’ There was a note of jealousy in his tone, and she didn’t know what to think of that. He had already claimed that she meant nothing to him. He had no right to interfere.
‘They are my father’s men,’ she insisted. ‘I know Darin, and he is one of Feann’s strongest guards. I have the right to go home with them.’
‘No,’ Alarr insisted. ‘I do not trust them.’ He lightened his touch upon her arm and instead of a grip, it felt like a caress. She froze when he rested his palm upon her back, gentling his touch. ‘You could be harmed, and I would not be there to protect you.’
She tried to steel herself against the warmth that washed over her with his words. He didn’t mean what he was saying, and she had to stop herself from falling prey to idle feelings.
‘Why does it matter to you if I leave?’ The words came out as a whisper. ‘We both know that I mean nothing to you.’ She threw his own words back at him. ‘I am only your slave. Isn’t that what you said?’
But when she stared into his eyes, Alarr made no effort to hide his desire. His blue eyes held the fire of longing, and he looked as if he wanted to mark his claim upon her. Her skin tightened at his gaze, and she was caught up in wanting someone she could never have.
His hands moved up her spine, his hand cradling her nape. ‘The truth is, I want you far too much, søtnos.’
The heat of his touch evoked a response she had never expected. Her head tried desperately to warn her, but her body savoured his caress. Her skin tightened, yearning for him, even as she knew he would not turn aside from revenge. Alarr was a Lochlannach warrior, a Norseman who would not yield to anyone.
And God help her, she wanted him, too.
The pieces of her heart crumbled when he cupped h
er face in his hands, leaning in to claim a kiss. His mouth coaxed her to kiss him back, and she melted into him, feeling as if her skin were blazing. Her brain tried to warn her of the danger, but Alarr’s mouth silenced any protests.
‘I won’t let you go.’ He spoke against her lips, drawing her body to his.
Breanne could feel the caged strength in his body, and she struggled to find her will power. ‘I have to go back. Killcobar is my home.’
‘And what if I refuse to let you leave?’ he mused aloud. He drew her to their shared pallet and pushed her back against the furs. Gently, he pinned her wrists. ‘What if I keep you here, bound to me?’
Alarr leaned down to kiss her again, and she suddenly understood what this was, beyond temptation. He wanted her to stay of her own free will by offering her the pleasure of his touch. A part of her hungered for the affection, as if he could push away the loneliness of the past few years. For so long, she had felt isolated, apart from everyone else at Killcobar. And Alarr was slowly taking apart the invisible walls she had built to shield herself from hurt.
His hands moved to her breasts, stroking them through the rough wool of her gown. Her nipples grew erect, and the sweet torment of his caress made her weak with desire. She wanted him badly, wanted to lose herself in him.
But it was an illusion, wasn’t it? Alarr didn’t truly want her. Had she not been King Feann’s foster daughter, he would have left her in the slave market to become another man’s possession. A harsh lump of disappointment pushed back the desire, and she turned her face aside.
‘I don’t want you to touch me,’ she whispered. ‘Please stop.’
He did, but the raw need in his expression made her falter. She sat up when he moved away, drawing her knees in. Right now, she wanted to weep, but she would not give Alarr the satisfaction.
‘I am going home,’ she told him. ‘If you try to kill Feann, I will have no choice but to warn him.’ She could not stand by and let her foster father be harmed.
Alarr’s face turned grave. ‘I cannot forget what Feann did to my bride and my family, Breanne. Justice must be served.’
She understood his desire for vengeance, and yet, she intended to confront her foster father first.
‘He must have had a reason,’ she said. ‘Feann is not a murderer. I believe what you say, but he would never act in such a way without purpose.’ Though he had a ruthless side, she could not imagine her foster father attacking if there was no cause.
‘And what purpose was there in killing my bride? Gilla was an innocent.’
She didn’t know what to say to that. Innocent people died in battle all the time. But her foster father was not cruel in that way. She had seen him spare men’s lives before. It was not usual for him to threaten a woman, and she had no answer for him.
‘Did you love Gilla?’ she asked quietly. Not that it mattered, but she wondered whether he grieved for her still.
‘We were friends.’ He sat beside her and admitted, ‘I didn’t love her, but we could have made a good marriage between us.’
It should not have made a difference, but she felt a slight sense of relief. As soon as the thought struck her, she pushed it away. Why should it matter if he was in love with his bride? Alarr was her captor and her enemy. He intended to murder the man who had given her a home and a family. She owed him nothing at all.
But she could not deny that he had spared her life and her virtue. It was difficult to reconcile the two sides to the man. And perhaps it was too late to change his mind.
‘I should go back,’ she murmured. ‘The others will be waiting for me.’
‘Let them wait.’ He caught her hand, tracing the centre of her palm with his thumb. The caress reached beneath her defences, unravelling her senses.
‘You will allow me to leave,’ she said quietly. ‘Because you are a man of honour.’
‘Am I?’ He reached out to caress her hair, sliding his hand down her spine. ‘Because right now, all I want is your body beneath mine.’
A flame of desire took hold, drawing her beneath his spell. She could not deny the raw physical attraction she felt, but she gathered the shreds of her willpower and stepped back.
‘Goodbye, Alarr,’ she murmured. For a long moment, she stared at him, wondering if he could ever reconsider his revenge.
And then she walked away from him.
* * *
‘I never thought you would let her go.’ Rurik stood beside Alarr as Breanne rode away with the soldiers.
‘I’m not letting her go.’ He didn’t trust Feann’s guards at all. They had not found her until Styr had allowed her to send word to Killcobar. Had they ever intended to search for her? He was beginning to have his doubts, since Styr’s settlement was only a day’s journey away. It would not have been difficult to find her. Their negligence didn’t seem right, and Alarr intended to follow them in secret—not only for his own purpose, but also to ensure that she was protected.
‘You want to track them.’ Rurik’s gaze was knowing, and he crossed his arms.
Alarr didn’t deny it. He wanted to ensure that Breanne made it safely home again, and if that meant following at a swift pace, so be it. ‘I don’t trust them.’
‘You wouldn’t trust any man with Breanne.’
‘Especially not soldiers who would wait so long to search for her. And I have not forgotten what I came here to do.’
That prompted a pained expression from Rurik. ‘Feann isn’t at Killcobar. You heard him say it. We have no reason to pursue Breanne.’
‘We don’t know for certain whether Feann is there.’ He didn’t trust their claims, and it was better to discover the truth for himself. ‘Even if he is not, I think we should go and gather information. You were wanting to learn about your mother. I want to know about Feann’s defences.’
‘We might be recognised,’ Rurik said. ‘It’s dangerous.’
His brother was right, but he still believed it was best to gather information. Someone might have the answers he sought.
‘That may be true,’ he said. ‘But we can say truthfully that you have come in search of answers about your mother. And we may learn more about Feann while we are there.’
Rurik seemed to consider it. ‘Has Breanne talked sense into you, then?’
‘About killing Feann? No. But I agree that we should learn why he went to Maerr.’ He stared out at the horizon to the riders that were no longer visible. Would Breanne be safe while he trailed them? It struck him as strange that the guards had barely questioned what had happened to her. Had Alarr been in their place, he would have demanded answers about how Breanne had been stolen away. He would have spent time ensuring that she was not injured—and never would he have allowed her to go off alone with a man who claimed to be her master.
‘When do you want to go to Killcobar?’ Rurik asked. ‘And do you want escorts?’
Alarr thought about it and shook his head. ‘Not at first. It would make us too conspicuous. Better to travel alone and let others believe we are searching for your family.’ Only Feann and a handful of men might recognise them. And none of the tribe knew Rurik, since he was not at the wedding.
‘I want to leave as soon as our belongings are prepared.’ It was a risk to go alone, but he also understood Styr’s reluctance to endanger his tribe. Perhaps the leader might be willing to visit Killcobar with his men, a few days from now.
He shielded his eyes against the sun, knowing it had been a mistake to let her go. Then he turned back to his brother. ‘We are going to find our answers. No matter how long it takes.’
‘And when Feann returns? Do you still intend to sacrifice your life for his? All to avenge a man who never cared about either one of us?’
‘It’s not only about our father. The king and his men slaughtered Gilla and her family. It was an act of war, and I intend to avenge our family’s honour. The other
tribes need to know that if they dare to attack, our retribution will be merciless. Already it has taken too long for us to respond.’
His brother fell silent for a time. ‘And if you do kill him and lose your life, what will stop Feann from returning to Maerr?’ He shook his head. ‘Learn the truth if you will, but there are only two of us to fight. It’s not enough.’
‘It’s enough for a slip of a blade between his ribs.’ Yet even as he spoke the words, Alarr recognised his brother’s truth. He didn’t know how to make Rurik understand his reasoning. His brother couldn’t understand why he was willing to take such a risk. But in all honesty, he had nothing left to lose.
‘Why do you want to die, Alarr?’ Rurik asked quietly.
He thought about his brother’s question for a time, choosing his words carefully. ‘When I fought against Feann, he stole from me the life I was meant to have. I am no longer the fighter I was. No woman wants me the way I am. Hardly able to walk...barely able to wield a sword.’
‘You survived wounds that would have killed most men. I am glad you are alive,’ Rurik said. ‘But I came with you to Éireann because I wanted answers. And because I wanted to stop you from doing something foolish, like murdering a king.’
‘You cannot stop me, Rurik. I have chosen my path.’
‘And what of Breanne? It will destroy her if you kill her foster father. He is all she has left.’
Alarr knew that, and yet, he could not turn from this path. Only after he had slain Feann would he believe that he had any worth as a man. Breanne might feel pity towards him, but that was all. If he somehow survived the fight, it would change naught. The thought of having to leave her filled him with regret. But there was nothing to be done for it.
‘We will go to Killcobar and follow Breanne,’ Alarr said. ‘Until Feann returns, we will learn what we can and wait.’ And in the meantime, he would protect her from harm.
Rurik met his gaze steadily and gave a nod. ‘So be it.’
* * *
Breanne rode with the soldiers towards her father’s lands, but inwardly, she could not shake the premonition that something was wrong. When they stopped to make camp for the night, Darin came to help her down from the horse.
Stolen by the Viking Page 11
