gave a nod, but inside, his mind was numb, as if every sense were dulled. He hardly heard Onund’s words about his kinsmen.
‘…the rest of us were taken as slaves,’ the man finished. He waited expectantly for Styr to respond, but the image of Elena blurred with Caragh. He remembered the night she’d fallen overboard, and her struggle to swim. Elena wasn’t a strong swimmer. If she’d jumped off the ship, she must have believed she was going to die. Likely at the hands of their enemies.
He imagined her slender body falling beneath the water, her limbs lifeless, and something within him snapped.
‘What about the other men?’ he prompted. The cold need for vengeance threaded through him. Caragh’s brother was responsible for all of it. He didn’t care if the boy was only seven and ten. Because of Brendan, his men were slaves, and his wife might be dead…
A haze of fury roared through him at the thought.
‘All survived,’ Onund answered. ‘We were brought here to be sold. I know where some of the others are.’
‘How were you even taken by a handful of Irish boys?’ Styr demanded. ‘Were you not trained to slay your enemies?’
Onund’s own anger rose up. ‘Did you want them to kill Elena?’ His hands clenched, his expression tight. ‘We were going to attack sooner, but the boy threatened to cut Elena’s throat.’ He grimaced, as if regretting their actions. ‘We didn’t trust him not to kill her.’
The lad deserved a slow, painful death. A blood-red rage smothered any pity he might have felt. He’d endangered Elena, and that, Styr would not forgive. As soon as he found the boy, he would sheathe his blade in Brendan’s heart.
But first, he had to find him.
‘Your new master,’ Styr began, ‘is he trustworthy?’
‘I think so, yes.’ A twisted expression slid over Onund’s face. ‘But I am a freeman, Styr. I won’t live like this.’
‘I’ll see to it that you are released,’ he promised. ‘As soon as I can.’
Onund inclined his head and retreated among the other thralls. Ivar came forwards and said, ‘Have you a place to stay this night? We can speak of your men, and I’ll offer my hospitality.’
It was then that he remembered Caragh in hiding, and his thoughts stilled. She would do anything necessary to protect her brother. Soft-hearted and innocent, he didn’t want her to know of his intentions.
‘We have a ship,’ he said to Ivar. ‘It’s enough.’
‘But we have much to discuss this night, about your men and how they came to be slaves,’ Ivar said smoothly. ‘Dine with us and share the longhouse.’
‘And what of my Irish companions?’ he ventured.
‘They are welcome, too.’ Ivar glanced at the door. ‘You are speaking of the woman who is in hiding outside, I presume?’
Styr sent him a dark look, and Ivar shrugged. ‘I have men who remain on guard upon the roof of my house. I am a man of wealth, and I guard what is mine.’
Styr nodded and went outside, keeping his hand upon his blade. Caragh had remained in hiding, as he’d wanted her to, and when he helped her to stand, she limped alongside him, towards the house.
‘What did you learn?’ she asked.
‘Some of my men are here.’ But he left out the rest of what he knew, especially about Elena.
It was unlikely his wife had survived. He knew too well, how dangerous it was to swim towards the shore. The intense cold of the Irish Sea, coupled with her weak swimming abilities, would easily drown a man.
‘And your wife?’ Caragh prompted. ‘Did they know where she is?’
Styr could only shake his head. ‘I plan to free Onund, and I hope he can show me the place where Elena…went missing.’ He refused to speak of her death, as if admitting it would make it a certainty. But inwardly, his thoughts were a tangled mass of fury and doubt.
Caragh’s eyes mirrored his own worry. ‘I hope she is safe.’
‘For your brother’s sake, I hope so, too.’ He didn’t care how harsh he sounded. She needed to understand that he would not show mercy to anyone who threatened his family.
She blanched, her fingers clenched together. ‘He’s only a boy, Styr.’
‘No.’ He wouldn’t make excuses for the young man. ‘He intended to attack us, and because of it, my men were sold into slavery.’ He took her by the hand and led her up into the dwelling. ‘Believe me, if he earned any silver from the capture of my men, he will lose every last coin. And if my wife is dead…’
He didn’t need to speak another word, nor did he bother to keep the coldness from his tone.
Caragh stared back at him, and pulled her hand away, repeating, ‘He’s a boy.’ Lowering her gaze, she remained behind him while he led the way towards Ivar.
After Styr introduced them, the man’s eyes passed over her with appreciation. Caragh’s face flushed, and Styr turned away to hide the surge of annoyance. Contrasted against her young beauty, Ivar was an older man who had likely enjoyed his share of women. And Styr didn’t intend for Caragh to be one of them. He could read the thoughts upon the man’s face and knew what they meant. He longed to slice the smile from the man’s face.
Because you want her, his body chided. You see her beauty and you want no one else to possess her.
Untrue, his mind responded. Elena has my loyalty and always will.
He shielded the emotions, shrugging them away. Caragh was an unmarried maiden and a beautiful one. Why should he care if she smiled at a Norseman? Or if she drew his attentions? She could do as she pleased, and it mattered not to him.
Liar, his body responded.
‘Is she your woman?’ Ivar questioned, using the Irish language so that Caragh could understand him.
Before Styr could answer, Caragh raised her chin. ‘I am my own woman. I belong to no man.’
The smile that curved over the Norseman’s face held interest and desire. ‘Well said.’ He gave the command for a female thrall to accompany her. ‘I invite you to share a meal with us, if you are willing.’
The slight emphasis he placed upon the word willing made Styr’s hand move towards his battleaxe. He didn’t doubt that Ivar wanted Caragh to be willing in another manner.
His mood darkened even more at the thought.
‘Would you like to refresh yourself?’ Ivar offered. His gaze passed over her blue gown, and he added, ‘My slaves could offer you something else to wear, while they care for your garments. That is, if you wish to try the clothing of our women.’
Caragh smiled at him gratefully. ‘You are very kind.’
‘Of
