‘I’ve been on boats all my life,’ he said. ‘You’ve nothing to fear.’
Though Caragh nodded, he could see that she didn’t believe it. She moved closer to him, sitting a few feet away while the boat continued south. ‘Why did you come to éireann?’
The reasons were too many to name. To save his marriage. To escape the conflict surrounding his brother’s leadership as jarl. And the truest reason of them all—to journey across the sea to foreign lands, experiencing a way of life different from his own.
He met her gaze and shrugged, unwilling to say the reasons. As a distraction, he ordered her to cast the weighted net over the side of the boat, letting it drag along the bottom while the boat continued to sail.
‘You don’t like to share anything about yourself, do you?’
Her pointed question tightened his frustration. ‘Why should I? This isn’t a journey among friends. I’m helping you get food because I’ll need it when I search for my wife and kinsmen.’
Caragh studied him. ‘You’re right. This is a trip of necessity. And I don’t suppose a Lochlannach like yourself would ever be a friend to someone like me.’
Her posture had stiffened, and he knew he’d offended her. But he had to draw a clear line between them, to ensure that she saw him for what he was—an enemy.
‘Pull up the net,’ he commanded. She reached for it, but her thin arms had difficulty pulling the heavy net. She strained against it, using her body weight, but it did little good at all.
‘I’m beginning to think I should have unchained you,’ she mused.
Styr balanced himself and came close. With his back to hers, he said, ‘Hook your arms around mine, and then grasp the net.’
She hesitated. ‘What are you planning to do? Cast me overboard?’
‘If I’d wanted to kill you, I could have done it long before now,’ he reminded her. ‘I’m going to help you bring in the net.’
With his legs spread out for balance, he waited until she drew her arms within his. Then as she grasped the net again, he leaned back, pulling her body off her feet as she held on. Despite herself, she began to laugh. ‘Well, that’s one way to catch fish, I suppose.’
As he’d hoped, she was then able to pull the net back into the boat. There were only small fish within the net, but he found a few oysters as well, which Caragh saved.
* * *
Over the next hour, he instructed her on baiting the hooks and setting the fishing lines. The activity seemed to take her mind off her fear, especially when they caught a few small fish. But the longer he watched her, the more his chains irritated him. He wanted to control the sails, to command the sea and catch the fish. Standing around in chains only simmered his resentment more.
After she let down the fishing line, Caragh tucked a strand of hair over one ear, suddenly appearing nervous around him. ‘Will we catch any more, do you think?’
He shrugged and stared at the horizon.
She sent him a look and then deepened her voice, as if mimicking him. ‘You couldn’t catch a minnow, Caragh, as weak as you are.’
In her own voice, she continued the singular conversation. ‘I know that, but I am trying.’
‘Not enough,’ she countered, pretending to be him. ‘And if you don’t catch a fish, I’ll toss your useless body overboard and sail away.’
He stared at her in disbelief of what she was doing. ‘You’re mad,’ he muttered.
‘And you’re in a foul mood,’ she shot back.
‘Because you’ve chained me. Do you think I should be happy about this? Do you think I should be talking with you about fishing and the weather? I’m still your prisoner because you won’t trust me.’
‘I have no reason at all to trust a man who wants to kill my brother,’ she countered.
‘I might not kill him.’
‘Might not? If anything at all happened to Elena, he’ll take the blame for it.’
‘And it would be well deserved.’ He knew Caragh wanted to protect the boy, but seven and ten was old enough to understand the consequences. ‘He can’t hide behind your skirts for what he did.’
She glared at him. ‘And now you understand why I’m reluctant to release your chains. The moment I do, you’ll go after Brendan.’
‘He will answer for what he did, Caragh.’
She stared out at the calm waters of the sea, dismay lined upon her face. ‘Then I have no choice but to come with you. For nothing I say will change your mind.’
‘I am a man of actions, not words.’
‘I’m aware of that.’ Imitating his voice again, she added, ‘Warriors don’t talk, Caragh. They kill people. And I’m quite good at killing things.’
‘Good at killing things who talk too much.’ But there was a glint of humour in his eyes. The line was starting to pull, and he went to stand against her. His back pressed against her own, to lend his strength.
Caragh linked her arms with his and gripped the fishing line, leaning back. ‘Something is biting.’
Styr pulled hard, helping her with the fish. The line moved violently and Caragh gasped as it cut into her palm.
‘Don’t let the line go,’ he commanded. ‘Keep a steady pressure upon it.’
He continued pulling, and Caragh began talking again, encouraging him to help her. At last, she guided the line into his hands and used a hand net to bring the fish into the boat. It was a large flounder, the length of her arm.
At the sight of the fish, she let out a cry of exultation. ‘We did it! Styr, we have food!’ She was laughing and crying at the same time. Her joy was so great that she threw her arms around his shoulders, embracing him hard.
He stood motionless, startled by her. The reckless gesture was something Elena never would have done, and he didn’t know how to respond.
But his body knew. Though the embrace was brief, he’d felt the touch of her breasts against him, her hips pressing close. The spontaneous affection meant nothing, but it was as if she’d awakened a part of his spirit that had been shielded for a long time. It was rare that anyone had touched him in such a way, and he was so taken aback, he returned to his seat at the rudder.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s just that I’ve never caught a fish this large before.’ Her face was flushed with excitement as she stored the fish in a corner of the boat.
Styr grunted a response, and ordered her to set out another line. She did, and while she worked, her joy spread over her face. The sunlight gleamed upon her brown hair, and when she looked back at him, her smile slid beneath his defences, diminishing his dark mood.
He turned his gaze back to the sea, a sense of guilt permeating his conscience. It had been a long time since any woman had smiled at him. Especially when he’d done so little to deserve it.
‘Are you still afraid of the sea?’ he asked.
Caragh shook her head, her smile remaining serene. ‘I suppose it’s not so terrible. The weather was bad that day, and my father never should have gone out.’ Her gaze drifted towards the water, and she let out a sigh. ‘I miss him terribly, and it hurts to think of losing him.’
She glanced back at him and sent him an apologetic smile. ‘I shouldn’t have touched you, I know. It was too impulsive of me.’
He said nothing, half-afraid she would see how it had affected him. If he weren’t bound to Elena, he might have enjoyed the embrace, pulling her closer. But honour demanded that he leave this woman alone, that he lock away any attraction he might feel.
She knelt down on the boat, the blue dress damp from the sea. ‘This fish means life,’ she admitted. ‘It may seem like nothing to you...but it’s everything to me.’
‘It’s enough to last us the journey, if we preserve it.’ He needed the reminder of his purpose, and she nodded.
‘We’ll find them, Styr. And perhaps, when you return, we can make peace between our people, even after all that’s happened.’
‘No,’ he responded. He couldn’t remain here, not so close to Caragh. The contr
ast between this woman and his wife was dangerous, for although he’d done nothing wrong, he sensed that staying near her would be unwise. ‘We’ll settle elsewhere.’
Her expression dimmed, and she turned her attention back to the fishing lines.
* * *
They caught five more fish before returning to shore. Caragh was exhausted, but her spirits had never been more joyous. There was food, such as she’d never seen in months. Not only enough for herself, but also enough to share with the others. The sun had drifted lower in the sky, and Styr shadowed her as she brought the largest flounder back to her home. Though she doubted if anyone would try to steal the fish, she also knew that many had become desperate—particularly Kelan. She hoped to ease their hunger by gifting them with some of the extra fish they had caught.
One by one, she visited the other families, and seeing their elation at the food lifted her mood even higher. Iona’s husband Gearoid gave her a small keg of mead in thanks. Though she protested, he refused to take no as an answer, and balanced it on his shoulder as he struggled to bring it to her home. Styr was waiting by the fire, and when the old man saw him there, he blinked.
‘Are ye well enough, Caragh?’ Though he kept his tone calm, she didn’t miss the worry in his eyes. None of them had agreed with her decision to chain Styr; they’d wanted him dead.
‘I am fine. And were it not for this Lochlannach, we’d still be hungry this night.’
Gearoid didn’t seem comfortable leaving her, but Caragh opened the door and walked out with him.
‘He hasn’t done anything to harm me,’ she reassured him. ‘I promise you, I am safe.’
It was stretching the truth, but she didn’t want the others to be afraid. ‘Go back to Iona and enjoy the fish,’ she urged.
‘If you have need of us, you have only to ask,’ he said. With a squeeze of her hand, he hobbled back to his wife.
After he’d gone, Caragh returned and set to work cleaning the fish as best she could. It was work she didn’t mind at all, and she carefully saved the scraps, which could be used for stews or soups. Her joy was so great, that when she set several chunks of fish over the hearth to bake, she returned to her father’s work space.
She stood in the darkened space, breathing in the ashen scent of the forge. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine her father’s presence and his hearty laugh.
Am I making a mistake, Father? she wondered. Do I dare take the risk? She reached for an awl and her father’s hammer, wondering what to do. Styr had proven himself this day, taking her out to find fish. They’d caught enough to survive a little longer...or to travel in the search for Brendan.
In her heart, she knew the Viking had saved her life. And for that, he deserved his freedom.
Don’t let him hurt Brendan, she prayed inwardly. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the hammer and awl, returning to her hut.
* * *
Styr was seated near the fire when she returned, and as soon as he spied the hammer and awl, his eyes lit up.
‘I owe you my thanks,’ Caragh said, ‘for helping me to find fish today. And in return, I will keep my promise to remove the chains.’ She watched him, meeting his eyes with her own. ‘I ask only that you grant me my brother’s life in return. Show him mercy.’
Styr gave her no answer, but she could only pray that he would spare Brendan. Crossing behind him, she reached for his wrists. Upon his skin, she saw dried blood and heavy bruises. Clearly he’d tried to free himself and had suffered in the process.
She hammered at the pin that bound the manacles closed until his first hand was free. Then the second.
Styr drew his hands in front of him, flexing his wrists, as he breathed with relief. ‘Thank you.’
Having him unchained made her suddenly more aware of his presence. Though she didn’t believe he would harm her, she couldn’t stop the prickle of uneasiness. She busied herself with cooking the fish, remarking, ‘I’m surprised you haven’t left yet.’
‘As I told you, I’m taking your father’s boat in the morning,’ he said. ‘And you’re coming with me.’
She made no refusal, for she wanted to protect Brendan. ‘I won’t go as your hostage.’
His gaze turned harsh, but his eyes seemed to warn her that he would use her in any manner necessary.
Caragh’s hands trembled as she gave him his portion of fish. Fool, she cursed herself. This man wasn’t safe. He might have helped her to get food, but he could not be trusted.
But she forgot about her uncertainties, the moment she tasted the delicate white fish. ‘Oh heaven,’ she breathed, eating the first piece so fast, she nearly choked on it. The second piece disappeared nearly as fast, and she cooked more portions, knowing that Styr was as hungry as she was. To pace herself, she poured each of them a cup of mead, and the sweet, honeyed taste was delicious. Even though she knew it was unwise to drink it quickly, she couldn’t stop herself.
‘Slow down,’ Styr ordered. ‘Or you’ll make yourself sick.’
She did, concentrating on the drink instead. It made her head feel lighter, and a pleasant airiness seemed to surround her. ‘Did you get enough to eat?’
He nodded, leaning back beside the fire. ‘If you salt the remaining fish, we can preserve it for a few days.’
She nodded her agreement and went to cut the remaining fish into pieces the size of her hand, salting them heavily and covering them. As she worked, a dizziness made her unsteady on her feet. The room seemed to be a faraway place, but she took another sip of mead.
* * *
When she had finished preserving the fish, she washed her hands and walked unsteadily towards the fire.
‘How many cups of mead have you had?’ Styr asked, frowning.
‘Two. Perhaps three,’ she answered.
‘You shouldn’t have anything else to drink,’ he said, taking the cup from her. ‘You’ve already had too much.’
A lazy smile curved over her. ‘It tasted so good.’ When he drank the rest of her mead, her gaze settled upon his mouth. My, but he did have a wonderful mouth. So firm and fierce. It was a shame that a man like this was already wed. It would be interesting to kiss him.
‘Are you as wicked as the other Lochlannach?’ she asked, warming her hands before the fire. ‘Do you pillage the homes of people, taking their women?’
His gaze turned enigmatic. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think you could...if you wanted to.’ Her head was still buzzing, but she found herself saying whatever words came to her mind. A startled laugh broke free. ‘But this time, I took you.’
He looked irritated at her reminder, but she added, ‘You weren’t nearly as bad a man as I thought you were.’
‘Don’t.’ He cut her off, reaching out to grasp her chin. Though his gesture was meant to be threatening, it didn’t hurt. ‘Don’t try to pretend I’m harmless.’ His hand moved back to grasp her nape, and a thousand tremors poured through her skin. There was power in his touch, a ruthlessness that held her spellbound.
Her traitorous mind suddenly imagined more than a kiss. She envisioned his bare skin and what it would be like to run her fingers over him. With his hand still tangled in her hair, she reached out and rested her hands against his chest.
Chapter Five
Styr didn’t move. He knew Caragh wasn’t thinking clearly, that her actions were dictated by the mead. But when she rested her head against his chest, a part of him wanted to hold her. He wanted to feel a woman’s arms around him, to inhale the delicate scent of her skin.
His heartbeat pounded beneath her fingertips, his treacherous body responding to her nearness.
Gently, he extricated her and stepped back. ‘Did you get enough to eat?’
A soft smile transformed her face. ‘For the first time in months. Yes, I did.’ She busied herself with clearing away their wooden dishes. But although Caragh washed and put them away, she did not clean every part of the dwelling or straighten the furnishings. Instead, she sat by the fire, s
miling at him. It occurred to him that never had Elena stopped to relax after a meal. She spent her time cleaning, straightening, and scouring their home.
Caragh drew up her knees by the fire, her face golden in the light. All the while, his mind replayed the image of her hands touching him, her face pressed against his heart. The hunger for affection roared through him, and he cursed the instincts he couldn’t control.
It had been so very long since Elena had reached out to him. Time and again, he’d tried to tempt her, even to hold her, only to be pushed away. Her resentment at being childless festered like an open wound, one that wouldn’t heal.
Sometimes, he wished they could start over. That there was a way to be friends again, with no tension between them. The last time that had happened, they had been hardly more than adolescents. Once they’d been betrothed, Elena had grown more serious, putting all her concentration on becoming a good wife. And she’d refused to accept their failure to have children.
When she’d finished putting away the food, Caragh asked, ‘What would you like to do now?’
Her voice held energy, a restlessness that conjured up memories of bare skin, and what it was to touch a willing woman, burying himself deep inside her yielding flesh. He felt himself harden, and he cursed himself for drinking too much mead.
Odin’s blood, but he needed to stay away from this woman. He had no doubt that the goddess Freya had set him upon this path, to test his willpower. But no matter how this woman tempted him, he refused to betray Elena.
‘We should get some sleep before our journey on the morrow,’ Styr told her, tossing another peat brick on the fire. He moved to the furthest side of the room, intending to block her from his mind.
‘I can’t sleep,’ Caragh protested. ‘It’s still so early.’ Without asking his consent, she went to a trunk on the far side of the room and returned with a board. ‘Don’t go to bed so soon,’ she pleaded. ‘We could play a game.’
‘I don’t play.’ He’d gambled before with dice, but it wasn’t a pastime he’d engaged in very often.
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