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.
‘Wait,’ he commanded. It took no longer than a few seconds before the merchant caught up to them, holding two pies.
‘Your silver?’ he asked.
Styr paid the man one coin and handed Caragh both pies. She had no chance to ask any questions, before the man took the rest of his pies and disappeared among the people.
‘You don’t think he knew anything about your wife?’
Styr shook his head. ‘He would have said anything he thought we wanted to hear.’
Caragh started to give him one of the pies, but he refused. ‘You’re hungry,’ she insisted. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’
‘Not as hungry as you.’
But Caragh broke off a piece of the steaming pie, touching it to his mouth. ‘I will enjoy mine more, if I know that you aren’t hungry.’
He accepted the bite of food and finally took the pie. Caragh found a stack of wine barrels on the other side of the square and asked for a moment to sit down.
Her shoes were so worn, she could feel the rocky soil beneath her soles. It wouldn’t take long to wear holes through the weak leather, and already she felt the swelling of blisters.
But the rest made it easier to endure. Styr leaned beside one of the wine barrels, while she finished as much as she could. When her stomach could hold no more, she gave the rest to him.
‘Don’t you want to save it for later?’
She shook her head. ‘I know the past few days were hard on both of us. And you need your strength.’ Her gaze slid over to his muscled arms, and his expression shifted, as if she’d physically touched him. Though he said nothing, his eyes passed over her. And this time, his hunger had nothing to do with food.
Her body was well aware of the direction of his thoughts, though he had spoken not a word. Against her will, a shimmer of interest echoed in her body. She imagined his hands upon her, his forbidden touch shattering every last defence.
God help them both.
‘Th-thank you for letting me see the market,’ she said, sliding down from the barrel. ‘We should go back and find out what we can about Elena and Brendan.’
Styr inclined his head, and they returned to the marketplace, asking several other merchants about what they had seen. None had any information, but they suggested asking another man whose stall was closest to the slave market.
Strangely, Caragh didn’t recognise the man’s wares. She stared at the selection of ivory and polished wood, along with vials of oil.
‘We’re not stopping here,’ Styr said, trying to move her on. But her curiosity was heightened. The man’s eyes lit up when he saw the two of them. He was one of the Norsemen, shorter than Styr, but barrel-chested.
‘For you, lady.’ He offered her a tiny vial, contained in wood. ‘Try it with your lover.’
Her cheeks went crimson, and she shook her head. ‘But he’s not my—’
‘We’re leaving,’ Styr repeated, gripping her hand.
The merchant grinned at him and spoke words in his language. Styr argued back, shaking his head in refusal. Whatever it was the merchant wanted him to buy, Styr was having none of it.
‘But what is he selling?’ she asked. ‘I don’t recognise his wares.’
‘Your brothers wouldn’t want you here,’ he said.
His declaration only heightened her interest. She ignored his wishes and moved in closer. Styr was trying to hide something, and she couldn’t think of what.
‘Please,’ the merchant insisted. ‘Take the oil. But if you wish to buy this, other women will tell you of the pleasure you will know.’ He held out an ivory cylinder with a rounded, ridged top.
The moment she saw it closer, Caragh frowned. As the merchant instructed, she held it in her palm, still unclear on what it was.
‘Use the oil, lady.’ He began to explain more, but his Irish was broken, and he switched back into the Norse language, making it impossible to understand.
When she shook her head, the merchant took her hand and curled it over the ivory. He showed her how to move it up and down, and when she glanced at Styr, his shoulders were shaking, his mouth tight.
‘What’s wrong?’
He lowered his head, looking away. The man was laughing at her. And she had no idea why. Handing back the ivory cylinder, she saw lengths of silk in many different colours. ‘And what are those for?’
‘Tying up your lover,’ he explained.
A snort erupted from Styr, and finally he burst out in a broad laugh. Caragh’s face turned scarlet, as she suddenly understood what the man had been selling. Not only chains to tie up a lover, but the ivory cylinder was a perfect replica of a man’s—
Oh dear God.
She dropped it as if it were a hot coal, hurrying away from the merchant. Styr followed, but he never stopped laughing at her. ‘Are you still wondering what he was selling?’
‘I
