Her violet eyes met his, uncertainty lining her face. “Not yet,” she whispered. “Perhaps tonight.”
His rage magnified, that she would not keep the vow. “You said you would free me, if we caught fish. And so we did.”
She gripped her arms, her gaze lowering to the ground. “Only one.”
He moved in so close, she was trapped against the back of the wall. Her hands moved up to press him back, but he didn’t move. “You try my patience, woman.”
“I’m not your woman.”
“No, you’re not,” he agreed. But her hands moved over the chainmail hauberk, and though it was only her effort to break free, a sudden vision flashed into his mind...of her hands continuing to move lower.
Damn her for conjuring such images.
“Your brother took Elena. And hewillsuffer for it.”
She took a breath, her expression turning serious. “Promise me, you won’t kill Brendan. He’s just a boy.”
Styr stepped back, releasing her. “If she is unharmed, then I might let him go. But if she has endured any pain at his hands, I will make no such vow.” When he reached the door, he turned back. “Nor will I spare him, if you don’t remove these chains.”
He stepped outside, not waiting for her answer. The day was a clouded gray, and rain was likely. Still, he would not delay any longer. If he could have left now, he would have. He hated being at the mercy of someone else, locked up in chains that prevented him from going after Elena.
And worse, having no supplies to take along. Without his ship, he had none of his wealth, nothing save the clothes on his back and the battleaxe that had been taken from him.
After several minutes, the door opened. He turned and saw Caragh approaching with two baskets in each hand. She wore a gown dyed a rich blue. Though it was a simple long-sleeved garment, the color contrasted against her dark hair, bringing out the violet-blue of her eyes.
An uneasiness slipped over him for she appeared beautiful. Styr gave her a nod, revealing nothing of the wayward thoughts inside him.
“That gown is too fine for fishing,” he said. “You should choose another.”
She shrugged. “It’s the only other gown I have.” A hint of sadness passed over her face as she added, “I should have given it to my brothers to be sold.”
Without explaining herself, she led him farther down the beach until he saw the small boat anchored a short distance out. The mainsail was tied up, but the vessel appeared to be intact.
“If you don’t free me from the manacles, you’ll have to do all the work,” he pointed out. “I won’t be able to help you.”
She sent him a sidelong glance as if she hadn’t thought of that. But in the end, she shook her head. “I’ll manage.”
Styr stepped into the water and turned his back to her. “Climb on my back, and you won’t have to get wet again.”
A look of startled surprise crossed her face. “That’s kind of you.”
She ducked beneath his chained arms, wrapping her arms around his neck with her legs around his waist as he walked from the shore to the boat. Though it was awkward with his chained manacles, he was aware of how light her body was. She was far too thin.
He would take her out to find more fish today, no matter how long it took. No woman should ever face starvation, and he was determined to see her enjoy a true meal this night.
Styr climbed back to the stern, taking command of the rudder while she drew up the anchor. They sat beside one another, each with an oar, as they rowed out to sea. Though he had enough slack in the chains to move his arms, it was difficult for him to row with his hands behind him. He changed his position on the bench to face backwards, half-crouching as he pulled the oars behind him. Though it was awkward, Caragh lacked the energy and knowledge to manage it alone.
Silence descended between them, and as the land grew more distant, Styr ordered her to unbind the mainsail. He directed her how to tie it down, gathering the wind, and her hair streamed past her face as she obeyed.
His thoughts turned dangerous as he saw the curve of her body and her slender hips. She was so unlike Elena. While his wife had a muscular, toned body, Caragh’s was delicate.
But she did possess curves where he shouldn’t be looking at all, curves that seemed impossible, from her thinness.
He drew his thoughts back to Elena, hoping she was all right. The urge to find his wife was strong, along with the frustration at being unable to pursue them. The wind blew against his face, the familiar freedom easing his dark mood. The vessel had picked up speed, and he directed Caragh on how to adjust the sail. But even after she’d obeyed him, he could see the fear in her eyes.
“You don’t like the water?” he questioned.
She shook her head. “My father drowned last winter. This boat came back to the shore, but he was gone.” She rubbed her arms as if to ward off a chill. “My brothers believe it’s cursed.”
