When Styr took his place at the side rudder, he spied a lone figure, huddled within a cloak.
And he knew.
Tearing off the cloak, he saw Caragh’s dark hair. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ His mind spun with the realisation that her brothers would think he’d stolen her. He needed to take her back, and—
‘Coming with you.’ She stood aboard the ship and reached for one of the torches. Holding it, she stood across from her brothers’ boat, lifting her hand to them. ‘And now they know that this was my choice.’
‘They’ll come after you.’
She shook her head. ‘No. I spoke with Brendan. He knew what I planned to do.’
‘Why?’ he demanded, taking the torch from her and returning it to the iron sconce. ‘You have no place with us.’
‘Don’t I?’ She regarded him steadily, taking a seat near the rudder. ‘All my life, I’ve done what others told me to do. I obeyed my parents and my brothers. I stayed at home and did what I could to take care of Brendan. I’ve never done anything that I wanted to do. Not until now.’
She lowered her voice so that only he could hear her. ‘You kissed me back.’
‘Yes.’ He offered no excuses for it, but there were none to give.
‘I just wanted to stay with you, until the end,’ she whispered.
And then, he understood. She needed to know if Elena was alive, to know whether or not he would return to his wife. But more, she wanted to know whether he felt any love for her at all.
His chest tightened, holding back the words of dishonour. Caragh’s bright spirit and her fascination with new experiences and places made it easy to enjoy her presence. Around her, he could be himself. He didn’t have to think about the way she wanted him to act or whether or not the moon was in the correct phase to have a child.
He could simply be.
‘Stay,’ he said. He refused to think of the implications, or worry about what the morning would bring if he found Elena. But the thought of finding his wife no longer brought a sense of relief or joy. It was an obligation he had to fulfil.
The thought of living with her, sensing her disappointment in his inability to give her a child…made him wary. He knew the truth of his marriage. It had reached the breaking point, and he didn’t know what he wanted any more. Elena hadn’t been happy in years.
But if he ended their union, she had another choice. She could find another man to marry, and perhaps have the baby she wanted. He didn’t have to imprison her in a marriage filled with resentment and lost hopes.
He could set both of them free. All he had to do was speak the words of divorce in the presence of witnesses.
And Thor’s blood, it tempted him. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in her scent. Wishing it was Caragh who belonged to him.
She took his hand, gazing up at the stars. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’
He leaned in, his hand catching the hair at her nape. Without taking his eyes from her, he admitted, ‘Yes.’
He didn’t know how long they sat beside one another, but he held her hand in his, grateful for her presence.
The winds eased their travel, bringing them near to the green stone within a few hours. The fragment of rock rose up from the sea, coated in moss and grasses. the sight of it, reflected against the moonlit sea, tightened the nerves inside of Caragh. From the moment Styr saw it, he’d grown more distant, as if plagued by thoughts he wouldn’t voice. The men drew the ship in as close as they dared, and Styr carried her to the shore, never minding that his clothes grew soaked in the sea.
They made camp, building a fire and eating the food his men had brought along with them. Though she knew she ought to be tired, a restlessness heightened within Caragh. And when they made camp, Styr set up her tent far away from the others.
Away from him.
She lay inside the shelter, darkness enveloping her. When she’d dared to come with Styr, she’d not imagined what it would do to her heart. It was a physical ache to be apart from him. Right now, she wanted to lie beside him, to feel the powerful warmth of his body against hers. She needed him in a way she didn’t understand.
And when she crossed the camp of sleeping Norsemen, she entered Styr’s tent, not knowing whether or not he would let her stay.
He jerked awake at the slight sound when she moved through the opening, and she said, ‘It’s me,’ before he could draw a weapon.
Styr let out a sigh and she heard the sound of a blade slipping back within its sheath. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘I didn’t want to be alone this night,’ she admitted. ‘I just wanted to sleep beside you. If you will allow it. I needed—’
You, she wanted to say. But she didn’t finish the words, afraid he would turn her away.
For a time, she could hear only the sound of his breathing. She sensed an invisible tension, as if he were making a decision.
‘I’ll go, if that’s what you want,’ she whispered, frustrated with herself for even daring to ask.
But his hand caught hers, and he dragged her down upon him, seizing her mouth in a kiss. He wasn’t wearing armour, and the touch of his hard, bare chest was dizzying. His skin was so warm, she found herself unable to stop from moving her hands over him, exploring his flesh. Every ridged muscle, the fine texture of his hair.
He stole her breath, and she felt as if she could touch him for ever.
‘You shouldn’t be here, Caragh,’ he said.
‘I know.’ He was right. Even to be in his presence like this was so terribly wrong. ‘I didn’t come here for this,’ she admitted. ‘I just wanted to lie beside you for one last night.’
He drew her against him, her back nestled against his chest, his arms around her. But instead of lending comfort, her heart beat faster. Every part of her body craved more. And she couldn’t understand it.
Against her hips, she felt the rise of his arousal and knew that he was not unaffected, either. It was a grim torture, for she wanted him in a way she shouldn’t.
‘I wed Elena when I was Brendan’s age,’ Styr began. ‘Our parents arranged it.’
It was the first time she’d heard him openly speak of his marriage, and she reached for his hand, saying nothing.
‘Elena was beautiful, and I knew the arrangement would bring together our tribes.’ He released her hand, bringing both of his arms around her. ‘She was a quiet woman but strong in her own way.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She planned every moment of her day, from the time she rose to the time she fell asleep at night. She worked in our garden every morning, wove cloth or sewed in the afternoon, and cleaned our house every evening.
