she said. ‘There were some good moments.’
‘Is this truly what you want?’ he questioned. ‘A divorce?’
‘I’ve already done it, Styr.’ She managed a smile through her tears. ‘I don’t need your permission to declare it before witnesses.’ Leaning her head against his shoulders, they sat for a few moments, and he understood how difficult it was for her to let go of their years together.
Then he remembered the gift he’d brought for her. He stood and retrieved the ivory comb from his belongings. ‘I bought this for you, before we left Hordafylke.’
She studied it, noting the image of Freya. ‘It’s beautiful.’ She ran it through the strands of her hair, trying it out. Then she held it in her hands, sharing the memory of the day they were wed and of how afraid she’d been.
During the next few hours, they reminisced over the years of their marriage, laying each one to rest. They talked long into the night, until her voice grew hoarse, and his eyelids grew heavy.
And when he awoke in the morning, Elena was gone.
Caragh walked through the neat rows of barley, pulling a few stray weeds. Her brothers had gone out fishing, and she’d busied herself with inspecting the harvest. It would not ripen for another few months, but at least they had the promise of more grain to sustain them. The tribe had planted more, after the seeds Terence and Ronan had brought back from their travels. She hoped that the sun and rain would be kind to them this season, allowing them to restore their losses.
Despite the countless hours she’d spent working, it did nothing to diminish the heartache. She’d let herself love Styr, and it burned to know that once again, the man she’d cared about had chosen someone else.
She strode through the fields, hastening her pace. It wouldn’t do to dwell on it any more. She’d known from the beginning that he was not free to be with her. As she crossed through the open meadow, she shielded her eyes to the morning sun. There was her brothers’ boat, moving out to sea. And to the east…another ship.
She frowned, not recognising it at first. Was it the fishermen returning to Gall Tír?
But when she saw the striped sail, her stomach plummeted. The Lochlannach had returned. For what purpose? Were they invaders or was it Styr’s ship? Neither was particularly welcome.
She hurried down to the shore, grasping her skirts. Some of the elderly Ó Brannons were busy scraping hides while others prepared meat for drying. Caragh went out as far as she dared, peering hard at the water. And when she saw the bronze weathervane of Styr’s ship, her tension didn’t diminish.
Why had he come? Was he wanting to settle here with his wife and later, their children? The thought of seeing him each day with Elena filled her with a crushing pain. A part of her wanted to flee, to hide where he wouldn’t find her. But then, she wasn’t a coward. She might not know why he had returned, but she would stand here and face him.
She sat upon a large stone on the water’s edge, waiting. His ship drew closer, until at last, she saw him tying up the sail, steering closer to land.
He was still as handsome as she remembered, his dark gold hair tied back. The weather had grown warmer, and he wore no armour this time.
And then he saw her waiting. His stare locked with hers, as if remembering the night they’d shared together.
Caragh studied the boat but saw that he had come with only two men. Elena was not with them.
If she could have shielded her heart with stone, she would have. Styr had left her behind, choosing the woman he’d married and their unborn child. There was nothing that would change that.
He strode through the water, moving towards her. The waves sloshed around his thighs, but he ignored the frigid water. ‘We need to talk,’ he said.
‘I have nothing to say to you. Or to your wife.’ She stood from the stone, ignoring him.
‘Elena is not my wife any more,’ he called out to her back. Her face flooded with colour, but she continued walking away. Whether it was true or a lie, a storm of confusion muddled her thoughts. When she reached the grassy hillside, she stopped walking but didn’t look back at him.
Was he expecting her to fall into his arms, to somehow rejoice that she was his second choice? Had something happened to Elena or their unborn child?
Anger and sorrow choked her, but Caragh got no further before he caught up with her, catching her in his arms. ‘As I said, we need to talk.’
‘Put me down,’ she demanded, trying to push her way out of his arms. When he only tightened his grip, she relented. ‘All right, I’ll talk with you. But not here.’
Not where others could see her being carried off by a Lochlannach. Styr didn’t appear to trust her promise, for he didn’t let her down at all. ‘It’s been too many weeks, søtnos.’ He embraced her, as if he wanted to meld her skin into his.
In passing, he nodded to his men who had begun unloading their ship, carrying her past the ringfort and towards the open meadow.
‘Styr, please,’ she said. ‘I can walk.’
‘I don’t want you to run away,’ was his response. ‘You’ve a right to be angry, but we’ll talk in private.’
‘What about your child?’ she asked. ‘If you’re no longer married to Elena—’ Her words broke off as she realised what had likely happened. Even to mention it was cruel.
‘There never was a child,’ he admitted. ‘She believed there was, but it was a mistake.’
In his voice, she heard a trace of regret, almost as if he wished the child had come to be. ‘Please, let me down,’ Caragh repeated.
He did, but he didn’t release her wrists. His grip was firm enough to remind her that he wasn’t going to let go.
‘What do you want from me?’ she asked quietly. ‘Why did you come back?’
He took her face between his hands and kissed her hard. His hands tangled in her long hair, pulling her to him as he coaxed her mouth. The familiar rush poured through her with awakening desire. And though she accepted his kiss, she didn’t return it.
‘You’re angry,’ he murmured against her mouth.
‘You can’t believe that I’ll let you come from another woman’s bed into mine.’ She turned her face from him, hiding the hurt within.
‘I never lay with her. Nor did I touch her.’
Caragh shook her head. ‘It’s too soon, Styr.’ To her embarrassment, the weeks of hurt welled up within her, and she blurted out, ‘You had no choice, I know. But I don’t want my heart to bleed like that a second time.’
‘It won’t,’ he swore. ‘I don’t intend to leave you again.’
His intense gaze reached inside
