thanked him for saving her life… and then they’d asked him if he would consider marriage to Caragh.
‘You saved her life,’ Ronan had said. ‘And she needs a strong protector.’
The instinct to blurt out no had risen to his lips, to confess everything about his wife. But he understood that they were speaking of alliances, of blending the Norse and Irish together. They respected his sailing and his fishing, but more, the two men had expressed their concern for Caragh being alone.
‘The only reason you’re coming with us, Lochlannach, is for her sake,’ Terence had said. ‘I’d rather leave you behind.’
For that reason, he’d kept silent about Elena. He needed this ship to travel east, retracing the path of Brendan, and he didn’t for a moment believe that Caragh’s brothers would allow it if they knew the truth. He would tell whatever lies were necessary to reach his wife.
In the end, he’d avoided answering Ronan and Terence, saying that he had to speak with Caragh first.
She was eyeing him now, her face flushed with guilt. ‘I—I’ve done nothing but treat you badly since you set foot on Éireann. And you’ve saved my life twice.’ Her hand tightened on his. ‘First, by helping me find food, and now, you’ve kept me from drowning.’ She took a deep breath, gathering up her courage. Dark blue eyes held a fragile trust, and she admitted, ‘If you weren’t already wedded—’
‘Don’t.’ He cut her off, his tone harsh as he released her hand. ‘Don’t say it.’ He wouldn’t allow her to speak of thoughts that had no place between them.
Caragh drew up her knees beneath the sodden gown, lowering her forehead.
‘I was going to say that I wish we could be friends.’
Styr remained silent, shielding his thoughts from her. Becoming friends with a woman like Caragh was dangerous.
‘You look as if such a thing would be impossible,’ she offered.
‘It is,’ he said. ‘Men and women cannot be friends.’
She looked taken aback, as if he’d struck her, but she ventured, ‘Why?’
Was she truly that naïve? He stared hard at her, willing her to understand the unspoken truth.
Caragh pulled the blanket around her shoulders, trembling as she waited for an answer. Her wet hair was darker, almost black against her pale skin. Her face was damp, her mouth drawing his attention.
‘I think you know exactly why we can never be friends,’ he said, not caring how harsh he sounded. Without another word, he left the tent, letting it fall closed behind him.
Styr’s harsh anger kept coming back, resonating within Caragh’s mind. Ever since she’d kissed him, he’d taken her actions the wrong way—as if she were threatening him.
She wasn’t trying to steal him away from his wife. Nothing could be further from the truth. Aye, he was handsome enough, but he was far too callous for her. Too demanding.
The longer she was around him, the more he made her heartbeat quicken, setting her nerves on edge. The memory of his raw kiss came rushing back, and her skin prickled with unease. No, she understood now, what he meant. They could never be friends, for she could feel his resentment. It bruised her spirits, for she’d never meant to imply that she wanted him.
The more she thought of it, the angrier she grew.
She peeled away the wet gown, even removing the damp shift until she was naked inside the tent. Carefully, she spread them out, hoping they would dry in the next few hours. Then she rolled up within the blanket, covering her body from neck to ankle.
With each minute that passed, she found it more difficult to sleep. She had never been in a position like this, as if she were a fallen woman trying to lure a man. Styr had saved her life, that was all. And she’d kissed him in an effort to save his. If she’d given the word, her brothers could have slaughtered him where he stood. Didn’t he realise that?
‘Caragh,’ came a male voice. It was Styr.
She bit her lip and tightened her hold around the blanket. ‘What is it?’
‘Your brothers sent you food.’ Without waiting for her to say a word, he entered the tent and set a folded cloth before her. For a moment, his expression tensed when he saw her clothing spread out.
‘Why didn’t they bring it, instead of you?’ she asked, keeping her voice low. He shrugged, but she already knew the answer. It was because her meddling brothers were starting to believe her false story.
Before he could leave, she released the storm of bitterness within her. ‘No, don’t go. Not until I’ve had my say.’
He raised an eyebrow at that, but she gripped the coverlet and raised her chin.
‘Whether or not we are ever friends, let me be clear that I didn’t kiss you because I wanted you. You saved my life, and I tried to save yours with my deception. I didn’t want my brothers to kill you. That’s all.’
‘They couldn’t have killed me,’ he responded.
‘You’re wrong. And though I’m glad you saved me from drowning, I’m angry that you think I have no honour at all.’ Her heartbeat quickened, and she continued talking, giving him all the reasons why she didn’t want him.
By the time she reached the fifth reason, she realised he wasn’t listening to her at all. Instead, his eyes were fixed upon the back of the tent, as if he found it fascinating.
He could have left, she supposed. Instead, he’d remained without speaking a single word.
‘Well? Have you nothing to say?’ she prompted.
‘I have never met a woman who talks as much as you do,’ he said at last. His impassive expression irritated her even more.
‘Don’t tease me.’ She knew she talked a great deal, but it wasn’t her intent. It was simply the desire to fill the empty space, to blot out the discomfort he made her feel.
Styr pushed the food towards her. ‘Eat the fish. There’s bread, as well, that your brothers brought.’
‘Bread?’ She couldn’t control the delight at the thought of tasting bread again. She didn’t care if it was green with mould or the texture of rocks.
When she tasted it, she had to suppress her sigh of delight. She devoured the bread, nearly finishing the last piece, when she suddenly remembered that Styr might not have eaten, either.
‘Have you had anything to eat this night?’ She offered him the rest of the bread, in case he hadn’t.
Styr nodded and sat across from her. He waited for her to finish, and as the uncomfortable silence stretched on, she said, ‘Will you tell me about your wife?’
‘Why?’ His tone sounded disgruntled, as if he wanted to share nothing about Elena.
Because she thought the topic would put him at ease, truthfully. Instead, she said,
