Ivar, she added, ‘Might we share your house this night for shelter?’
‘I would welcome your presence.’ With that, Ivar lifted her palm to his mouth, brushing a kiss over her skin.
Styr stood, unable to bear the sight of them a moment longer.
A warmth flooded over Caragh’s face at Ivar’s mouth upon her skin. The man was older, but he had a charisma about him that drew her in. His face bore a few scars, yet they seemed to add to his features instead of making him seem a threat.
Caragh glanced over at Styr, sensing that his mind was elsewhere. He eyed the doorway where the thrall had departed, as if he wanted nothing more than to leave her here. His wife was still missing, and there was no way of knowing whether or not she’d drowned.
She voiced a silent prayer that Elena was alive. Not only for the sake of her brother, but also for Styr. In his posture she saw the tension and worry, a man haunted by a fate beyond his control.
While Ivar went to speak with one of his slaves, she walked quietly towards him, for the need to ease his pain could not be denied. ‘There is still hope for Elena. After we find Brendan, we’ll journey along the coast. I’ll do all I can to help you.’
Styr’s mood was unreadable, his silence widening the invisible distance. She reached out to touch his arm, hoping to reassure him. His hand covered hers, tightening over her fingers. ‘Your brother must answer for what he did.’
She didn’t know what to say. His face might as well have been cast from iron, for there was no mercy in his countenance. ‘What he did was wrong, yes. But will you not forgive him for my sake?’
His masked emotions curled into a dark look. ‘I’m not a man who knows how to forgive. It’s not in my nature.’
A thousand pleas rose to her lips, but she doubted if he would listen. Instead, she went to stand directly before him. His hand was still covering hers, so she kept it and took his other hand in hers. Warm palms enveloped her hands, and she lifted her gaze to his, silently willing him to relent.
But instead of softening his vengeance, her touch had an entirely different effect upon him.
To her shock, Styr pulled her close. His breath warmed her ear. ‘Don’t trust the Norseman, Caragh. He may seem as if he’s being kind, but he wants you in his bed.’
The words seemed to rush over her skin, pouring forbidden images into her mind. An unexpected vision sprang into her mind, of what it would have been like to lie with a Norseman like Styr.
He would likely take whatever he wanted, his hot skin fused upon hers. His mouth would plunder, his hands conquering her bare skin. At the very thought, an ache resonated between her legs, her breasts growing sensitive against the red garment.
He’s not for you and never will be.
His gaze lingered upon her for a moment longer, as if he could read her thoughts. Caragh didn’t realise she was holding her breath until he left her side to join Ivar.
The Norseman had brought out a set of dice, carved from bone. Although she’d watched men play before, there was an undercurrent between these men, one she didn’t understand.
After several tosses of the dice, Styr was winning. Slowly, the pile of coins beside him grew, and Ivar’s mood darkened. Caragh moved closer, and her presence seemed to intensify the game.
‘Would you like to increase the odds?’ Ivar asked, his gaze never moving from her face. She wasn’t certain if he was speaking to her or not.
‘What odds?’ Styr answered.
‘One roll of the dice. The winner with the highest number gets a kiss from her.’ Ivar’s expression turned heated, and it took an effort not to look away. He was giving her a chance to refuse, but Caragh couldn’t bring herself to speak.
The truth was, she wanted to kiss Styr again, no matter how sinful it was. Her skin tightened at the thought, even though she knew he wouldn’t want to. Even suggesting it was wrong.
But the temptation was too great to deny.
She offered a slight nod of acceptance, while Styr answered, ‘No.’
The satisfied smile of Ivar revealed that he’d wanted a reason to kiss her, and she’d given him the means to try.
To her left, she glimpsed Styr’s fury. The rage was palpable, as if she were committing an unforgivable sin.
But when Ivar won the toss, she wasn’t prepared for the black look on Styr’s face. Nor was she ready for the unexpected heat of Ivar’s kiss that captured her lips. He didn’t hesitate to reveal his desire, palming her spine and drawing her close as he kissed her. But when he tried to slip his tongue inside her mouth, she pulled back.
Her face flamed with embarrassment for what she’d done. She mumbled something about her brothers, and retreated from both of them, her mind caught up in a storm of uncertainty.
Was she trying to prove something to Styr? For what purpose?
He belonged to another woman and was devoted to her. Asking him to betray Elena was wrong. For he never would, and even if he were not wed, he certainly wouldn’t claim a woman like herself.
Caragh rested her forehead against the wood, remaining in the shadows. If any of the slaves saw her, they avoided her presence. She wished she could be absorbed into the wall, for already she regretted the impulse. She’d made Ivar think she welcomed his interest, and she’d infuriated Styr.
She was beginning to question her decisions, for she was now behaving like a desperate woman. Not at all like herself.
A moment later, a strong body invaded her space, pressing her against the wall. From the moment he touched her, she knew it was not Ivar.
Styr held her motionless, his powerful body entrapping her against the wood. The heat of his skin and the feeling of helplessness both attracted and frightened her.
‘Let me go,’ she demanded.
‘Do you have any idea what you’re doing? You’ve just given him a reason to slip into your bed this night.’ His hands clasped her wrists, as if to mimic the way she’d captured him.
Styr was behaving with jealousy, reacting with the force of a thunderstorm. She pushed back, her own anger rising up. ‘And why would you care? We both know there’s nothing between us.’
But he didn’t let go of her. ‘Don’t push me, Caragh. If I weren’t here to defend you, he would take you.’
His hands softened against her wrists, moving down her arms to her waist. ‘He could overpower you in seconds.’
‘The way you’re doing now?’ she challenged. Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, but she could feel the fire rising in him. Standing on the tips of her toes, she rested both hands on his face. ‘You may think you’re trying to protect me by proving how easy it is to claim someone as weak as I am.’
With a hard shove, she broke free. ‘But all you’re doing is making me think you’re not as close to your wife as you say you are.’
The
