Forbidden Nights With A Viking

‘We have no choice, and you know it.’ Ronan slowed his pace as they neared the shore. ‘But I trust you to guard her.’

‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘You hardly know me.’

‘You saved her from drowning. Your actions said enough.’

Styr gave no reply, but busied himself with tying down the mainsail. The last thing he wanted was to bring another woman with him on his quest to find Elena. ‘She’s not coming with me.’

Ronan’s expression darkened. ‘Have a care, Lochlannach. The only reason we allowed you to come along was because of our sister.’

Words of protest stumbled inside his mouth. He didn’t want Caragh anywhere near him, particularly not now. But against his better judgement, he found himself raising his shoulders in an indifferent shrug.

Ronan pressed again. ‘Keep her out of harm’s way and guard her well. We’ll find our brother and your people.’

Styr wondered how they would accomplish this when they couldn’t speak his language, but didn’t say so.

They reached one of the docks near Dubh Linn, and Styr paid a copper coin to one of the men for the right to keep the boat there for the next few days.

Caragh called out to him, ‘Where do you want to look first?’

He crossed to the front of the boat and lowered his voice. ‘It would be better if you stayed with your brothers. Tell them you’d rather search with them.’

Caragh reached to tie back her braided hair, and her face was pale. ‘Why? Because you think I’m too weak?’ She moved to his side and confronted him, keeping her voice just above a whisper. ‘Or was there another reason?’

He didn’t trust himself around her. Though he would never act upon the unbidden visions she’d conjured, being around Caragh was weakening his resolve. He’d tasted her mouth and his traitorous mind warned that her kiss had affected him in a way Elena’s never had. She was too innocent to understand, and the further away she remained, the better.

‘Why?’ she prompted again.

In silent answer, he cupped her cheek. He stared into her violet eyes, drawing his thumb over the curve of her lips in memory of the kiss. ‘Because.’

At that, she understood. Her face flushed, and she drew his hand away. ‘You’ve no reason to be uncomfortable in my presence. I would be like a sister to you.’

He masked any response. Never in his life could he imagine a woman like Caragh in a sisterly way. ‘I want nothing from you, Caragh.’

She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Let me make amends for what my brother did. Promise me you won’t kill him.’

Her warm breath sent a ripple of uneasiness through him. ‘I can’t make that promise.’ He didn’t care that Brendan was hardly more than a young man. Elena had done nothing wrong, and if she was hurt, he would avenge every harm done to her. Without mercy.

Caragh’s fingers tightened upon his shoulder, her own tension evident. ‘Then I will go with you, if for no other reason than to protect him.’

‘Go with your brothers,’ he bade her again, and climbed out of the boat, stepping on to the docks.

Caragh hung back while Styr spoke to the Norsemen nearby, presumably asking questions about his ship. Meanwhile, she shielded her eyes against the sun and looked for a sign of Styr’s ship. As her gaze drifted past several Norse boats, she realised how futile it was. Most of them looked alike, and she couldn’t tell one from the next.

‘Do you think Brendan is here?’ Terence came up beside her, his expression grim.

‘I don’t know.’ She shuddered, and her brother removed his cloak, handing it to her. ‘We’d have seen a Norse ship along the coast, if he’d stopped somewhere else, wouldn’t we?’

Terence shrugged. ‘I don’t trust that Loch­ lannach, Caragh. I don’t care what Ronan thinks—you shouldn’t be alone with him. What if he tries to force himself on you?’

‘He won’t harm me,’ she said. ‘That, I can promise you.’

There was no danger at all from Styr, because of his unyielding loyalty to his wife. She was perfectly safe with him.

Yet, she couldn’t say the same for Brendan. She didn’t believe he would harm Elena, but his friends might have. And regardless of what had happened, she had to accompany Styr on his search, if for no reason than to protect her foolish younger brother.

‘I’ve seen the way he watches you,’ Terence continued. ‘He desires you.’

‘It’s nothing, Terence,’ she insisted. ‘I’m like a sister to him.’

Her brother cast a sidelong glance. ‘You’re anything but that. And I don’t trust him.’

‘I do. He’s saved my life, more than once.’

Terence caught her hand, pulling her back before she could leave. From his belt, he withdrew a small pouch. ‘Take these with you.’

She felt the weight of the coins and frowned. ‘Where did you get these? And what about the animals and supplies? All that from our mother’s brooch?’

Terence’s face turned grim. ‘We hired out our swords.’ From the dull tone in his voice, she understood that whatever he’d done, had been for their family. She reached up to embrace him, but though he returned it, she sensed the trouble weighing upon him.

‘You succeeded, then.’

His expression remained shielded. ‘I’m not proud of what I did.’

Caragh had no time to ask further questions, for Ronan and Styr approached. Already her brother was pointing out the direction he intended to search. To Styr, he directed, ‘If you’ll take Caragh and go deeper into the city, we’ll rejoin you here at sundown.’

She didn’t miss the reluctance on Styr’s face. Before he could argue again, Ronan handed a bundle of supplies to Styr. ‘See to it that she eats.’

Did he believe she was a small child incapable of caring for herself? She ignored his patronising tone and started walking north, along the edge of the docks.

Within moments, Styr guided her away. ‘Your brothers will search here. It’s not a place for a woman.’ He kept one hand upon his battleaxe, and his eyes scanned the crowd, as if searching for any possible threats. His other palm moved to the small of Caragh’s back.

She knew it was only a means of telling others that she was under his protection. But even so, she grew conscious of his large hand upon her spine and the firm pressure against her skin. A strange ache resonated through her, moving from his palm, over her own skin. He’d made her feel safe on the night she’d nearly drowned, warming her with his body.

She glanced over at him, and his eyes were constantly searching, his pace swift. ‘Do you know anyone in the city you could ask?’

He shook his head. ‘We’ll start in the marketplace.’

As they continued walking further, she was overwhelmed by the crowds, her eyes drinking in the sights. ‘I’ve never seen so many people before.’

‘Have you never left Gall Tír?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve lived there all my life.’ And although she knew every person within the ringfort, she’d heard stories of cities so large, it was impossible to know the names of all who dwelled within its walls.

Seeing Áth Cliath, she could believe it. Though this was her own country, the Irish and the Norse were mingled together. The Lochlannach settlements were unusual, with long, rectangular houses set out in quadrants. Even the women were dressed differently, their long yellow hair bound up in braids. They wore long aprons over their gowns, with brooches fastened at the shoulders. And they were so tall, like exotic goddesses.

Caragh was entranced by them. Her hand reached up to her own dark locks, as if imagining them in braids.

When they reached the open market, her eyes widened at the sight of the food, the livestock, and all the merchants. Voices mingled together in different languages, lauding their wares, while others bargained for the best price.

Caragh stopped before all of it, and Styr caught her hand. ‘We should go.’

‘Wait.’ Never in her life had she been in a place such as this, and she likely would not visit again. ‘Could we look at their wares? I’ve not seen a place like this before.’ She hid the pouch of coins Terence had given her, tying it within the folds of her gown.

He guided her away from the crowd, his gaze dark. ‘I didn’t want you to come with me, Caragh. And I’m not about to waste time here in the marketplace.’

Her mood diminished at his anger, and she recognised it for what it was—worry. ‘We’re going to find her,’ she reiterated. ‘But instead of searching blindly, we should ask.’

He didn’t want to; that was evident enough. Impatience dominated his mood like a dark cloud.

‘If she was brought here, someone might have seen her,’ Caragh said. ‘We’ll speak with every merchant, until we learn something.’

Though he didn’t disguise his reluctance, he lowered his head in a grim nod. ‘So be it.’

It was the best she could hope for. She gave his hand a friendly squeeze, but he jerked his hand away, giving her a stare of warning. It bewildered her why he would feel threatened by such a gesture, but she made a silent vow to herself, not to touch him again.

The first place they visited was a spice merchant. The aroma was like nothing she’d experienced before, and she marvelled at the wares.

‘What are these?’ she asked the man, studying the strange coloured pieces and seeds.

His skin was dusky, his eyes shrewd as he answered in Irish, ‘Cinnamon and pepper from the Far East, lady.’ He held up a sample, and the exotic scent made her close her eyes. To Styr, he said, ‘I will give you a good price for them.’

‘No, you won’t.’ Styr guided her away. ‘We came to ask you about a Norse woman.’ He described Elena to the man, and Caragh interjected with her own questions about Brendan.

The man lifted his shoulders in a shrug. ‘I do not remember them. But if you want to buy some of my spices, they will make your food taste like it came from a king’s table.’

‘No.’ Styr rested his hands on Caragh’s shoulders, guiding her away while the merchant kept pleading with them to stay. To her he muttered, ‘He knows nothing.’

As he led her forwards, the pressure of his hands distracted her. His touch was warm, and she tried not to think of it as they continued to move through the marketplace. But her wicked mind conjured up the dream of walking at his side, his hand resting upon her waist.

She closed her eyes against the forbidden vision, blurting out something to break the silence between them. ‘Have you ever seen so many things in all your life? Those bracelets, and the cloth…I’ve never imagined anything so beautiful.’

‘It’s silk,’ Styr told her. ‘Brought over from the East.’ He described the caravans from across the seas and lands where the sand stretched as far as the eye could see. Of a burning hot sun, and animals so strange, they had a single hump on their backs.

She sensed the longing in his voice and asked, ‘Have you seen them for yourself?’ The exotic place sounded like a world away from anything she’d ever known.

‘No. Elena never wanted to travel.’ His hand dropped away from her shoulders, and she caught the tension in his voice, warning her not to ask.

Styr guided her towards another merchant who was selling meat pies, surprising her when he added, ‘When I was younger, I went south with my father to The kingdom of the Visigoths. The closer you sail to the Mediterranean, the warmer the sun is. The skin of the people is darker, and their winter is very short.’

It was the most she’d ever heard him speak, and the tone of his voice spoke of a man who dreamed of travelling to distant lands.

‘You love the sea, don’t you?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘When I was a boy, I wanted to cross the largest sea. But my mother warned that if I went too far, I would be taken by Jörmungand, the serpent of Midgard.’

‘Devoured alive.’ She hid a smile, asking, ‘Do you still believe it?’

He shrugged, but she could see the superstition in his eyes. ‘There are many things on the sea that no man can understand. I have seen fish so large, their tails are the size of my home.’

‘I would like to see that. But only if I had a man like you to slay The serpent,’ she admitted. A tingle of nerves caught up in her stomach when she met his gaze. The tension had returned, and she couldn’t read the thoughts on his face.

She shouldn’t have confessed it to him. Because truthfully, the only reason she would consider journeying across the sea was if he were with her. her thoughts were betraying her, leading her down a path she could not travel. It embarrassed her to know that he’d seen it in her eyes.

God above, if she could simply close 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 cannot believe anyone would sell such things!’ she said, horrified that she’d actually touched the ivory shaft. ‘Why would anyone want them?’

He leaned against a wooden cart, and she glared at him while he continued to laugh. ‘Should I buy you one?’ he smirked, starting to walk back.

‘No!’ She’d never been so humiliated in all her life. ‘And you can stop laughing at me.’

He did, but a dangerous smile spread over his face. ‘You’re too innocent, Caragh.’ But his hand came around her shoulders, as he led her away from the market.

It was the gesture of a friend, of a man who was no longer threatened by her. This was the first time she’d ever seen him smile or laugh, for he’d always been so angry, so intent upon finding Elena. But for the briefest moment, she saw the anger and frustration slip away. She found herself drawn even more to this man, although his good mood was at her expense.

‘I would prefer that we forget about this,’ she said quietly.

His expression turned mischievous, his eyes almost sensual. ‘Some women have no man to share their bed. Such things have their uses.’

‘Not for me. And you didn’t have to laugh.’

‘The look on your face was worth a thousand silver coins, when you realised what it was.’ His arm remained around her shoulders, and for a moment, her traitorous mind imagined that they were more than friends. She’d never done anything except kiss a man, but after viewing the merchant’s wares, she wondered what else happened between a husband and a wife. She knew how children were made…but was there more?

Styr’s hand moved away from her shoulders, once they were further away. He guided her out of the market, admitting, ‘I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.’

‘Not even with Elena?’

His expression shifted, his smile fading. ‘No.’

She didn’t know what to say, for fear of transforming his mood into sadness or anger. Instead, she let her fingers brush against his, and he took her palm, threading their fingers together.

They walked past the marketplace, and for the first time, he didn’t pull away. The warmth of his hand upon hers was comforting, and for a moment, she imagined that they were friends. When he wasn’t so angry, it was easy to be around Styr.

And far too easy to let down the guard around her heart.

Iona’s words came back to haunt her: You will find your happiness, when you learn to walk away from what was never meant to be.

Was this what the old woman had meant? That she needed to leave Styr and protect her heart? The more she thought of it, the more she saw the truth in Iona’s words. If she allowed herself to be friends with Styr, the dangerous attraction might transform into other feelings. Feelings of jealousy, feelings that would remind her of how Kelan hadn’t wanted her.

She let go of his hand, focusing her concentration on the rising pain upon her feet and the blisters through her worn shoes.

As they continued on, Styr spoke with several more merchants, but no one seemed to have seen his wife. Caragh offered to ask among the women, but he refused to leave her side for a moment.

‘It’s not safe for you to be alone, without a guard.’

She acceded to him, for he knew the customs of the Norse better than herself. Then, too, more than a few of the men had eyed her, only to be deterred by Styr’s presence.

‘What if Elena isn’t within the city?’ she asked, after they had finished searching the marketplace.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. It seems likely, but without finding my ship—’

When he didn’t finish the sentence, she took a breath. ‘There is another place we should search.’

He knew, without asking, what she meant. They continued a little further and Styr asked a bystander where they could find the slave markets. The man pointed them in the right direction, and she saw the tension in his face. If Elena had been sold as a slave, she could be anywhere…even brought to distant lands. He might never find her.

A hollow feeling took root within Caragh, suffusing her with guilt. For if Styr never saw his wife again, his marriage was essentially over.

He could be yours, the voice of sin whispered.

She lifted her gaze to his sun-darkened hair and his brown eyes. There was no man as powerful and strong as this one. And when he’d touched her, it was as if her body craved more than he could give.

But it was wrong to even think of it. She closed her eyes, forcing back the dishonourable thoughts. A man like Styr deserved to be with the woman he loved. Not her.

The longer they walked, the more her feet began to ache. Caragh hid her discomfort, for it was not only Elena they needed to find; it was also Brendan.

She’d not seen any sign of her brother at all, and more and more, she was wondering if he’d gone elsewhere.

They walked through a maze of streets, past livestock and throngs of people. Caragh didn’t know how they would ever find anyone in a place as large as this. She was accustomed to a small ringfort with only a few dozen inhabitants. Here, there were hundreds. Perhaps even a thousand.