frowned. ‘Tell me more about her. I know she’s very beautiful.’
Some of his frustration subsided, and he nodded. ‘She is.’ His expression relented and he admitted, ‘I used to tease her about her red hair. I didn’t like the colour when I was younger, and she was angry with me for saying so.’
‘I can’t imagine,’ she responded drily.
His mouth twitched. ‘She tried to cut off my hair while I was sleeping. I was nine years old at the time.’
She picked at the fish, savouring each bite. As she ate, she was careful not to reveal any of her nakedness. ‘What did you do?’
‘When I woke up, I caught her with a length of my hair. I tried to hit her, but my father caught me.’
‘Did he thrash you for it?’
Styr nodded. ‘And he cut off the rest of my hair in punishment. So that everyone would know I tried to strike a girl.’
Her amusement faded at that. ‘But you forgave her, didn’t you?’
He nodded. ‘When I was older.’
When Styr offered nothing else about his wife, Caragh asked another question, though already she suspected the answer. ‘Do you have children?’
‘No.’ The quiet answer held a grim ring to it, and she realised she’d touched upon a delicate subject.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.’
‘Be ready to leave at first light,’ was all he said, taking away the cloth that had contained her food.
All night long, Styr had been haunted by the image of Caragh’s bare shoulders. Though she’d kept herself covered throughout their conversation, his mood had darkened as his mind turned to other memories.
He thought of Elena and the way she often kept herself covered, even during lovemaking. She’d been shy of her body, never wanting him to see her bare skin…almost as if she were ashamed. Then, too, she’d kept her mind veiled as well, never revealing the thoughts she’d hidden within herself. He’d been married to her for five years, and it still felt as if they were strangers.
He reached towards the pouch at his belt and loosened the ties. The leather was stiff and damp, but he managed to pull out the ivory comb. As he stared at it, a tight fear rose up inside. He should have given it to Elena on board the ship. He should have spoken the words of reassurance that she’d needed to hear.
But then, he’d tried to talk to her, only to be spurned. He wasn’t good with words or trying to explain himself.
Caragh was the opposite. Like a small bird, she chattered and revealed everything she was thinking. Sometimes she revealed too much.
A note of danger threaded through his mind, as he thought of her clear violet eyes and her soft mouth. The longer he was around Caragh, the more he compared her to Elena, and it wasn’t right.
He told himself it was curiosity, nothing more. They weren’t even friends. Thor’s blood, she’d captured him and put him in chains. He owed her nothing at all. And because of her brother, he’d lost his wife. A wife he needed to find.
The will strengthened within him as he brushed aside idle thoughts of Caragh. Elena was his focus, and no matter how difficult the past few years had been, he wanted nothing to happen to her.
An insidious voice whispered the possibility that Elena was dead. The thought pierced him with fear. She was his responsibility to protect, and the days of sleeplessness had proved a weakness. It enraged him that he and his men had been brought down by a starving tribe. It never should have happened.
This morning, they had boarded the boat a second time. The sea was calmer now, and it was likely they could finish their journey up the coast without any further problems.
Styr risked a glance at Caragh and saw that her hair was still damp against her face. She wore the blue gown from before, with half of her hair braided back from her face. The rest hung down over her shoulders in dark, curling strands. The morning sun cast a glow over her face, but her expression held worry instead of reassurance. When the wind shuddered past her, he saw the way she gripped her arms, steadying herself.
‘She hates the water,’ Terence said, beneath his breath, as he joined Styr at the oars. ‘Ever since our da died, she’s gone nowhere near it.’
‘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
