“Let him go, Lochlannach,” Ronan ordered. The point of his blade rested at Styr’s throat. “We have more questions that need answering.”
Styr loosened his grip, though he stared hard into Terence’s eyes with a silent threat of his own. When he released the man, Terence stepped back, rubbing the skin of his throat.
“You said you were going to search for Brendan,” Ronan interrupted. “Where do you think he sailed?”
“Caragh thinks he may have gone to Áth Cliath.” He made no mention of Elena’s capture, for he was still uncertain of Caragh’s intent. He doubted if her brothers believed her suggestion that they were more than friends, because the men were staring at him with distrust. Yet, despite the fact that he’d nearly strangled Terence, they viewed him with a wary respect. Like him, they were warriors. And they now knew that he could defend himself.
“Is this true?” Ronan asked of his sister. “How long has Brendan been gone?”
“It’s true,” she admitted. “He’s been gone a few days now. We were going to begin our search today.”
“And who else was going to accompany you?” Terence asked. “You weren’t planning to go off with this Lochlannach on your own, were you?”
A flash of anger darkened Caragh’s face. “And what choice did I have? You and Ronan left me here alone. I didn’t know when—or evenif—you were coming back.”
“Brendan was supposed to defend you,” Terence countered.
“And a fine job he did,” she shot back. “He and his friends stole a ship and disappeared.”
Ronan came forward, his expression somber. “We never intended to be gone longer than a sennight. I’m sorry if Brendan failed in his duty to you.” His gaze shifted to Styr. “How many were killed in the attack?”
“Two of yours,” Styr said. He crossed his arms and warned, “If your brother was foolish enough to take only a few men with him, it wouldn’t surprise me if my men feigned capture and took back the ship. We outnumbered your men.”
Caragh paled. “Do you think Brendan is still alive?” There was a stricken note in her voice, as if she hadn’t wanted to believe otherwise. Styr gave no answer. If he’d been among his men, he wouldn’t have hesitated to lash back at those who had dared to threaten Elena. It was possible that his men had already killed her brother.
“We’ll know when we find my ship,” was all he could say.
“We will accompany you,” Ronan said. He took a step forwards, resting his hand back on his dagger. “We’ve brought back more grain and other supplies that will serve us well for the journey. I’ve also arranged for more sheep and cattle to arrive later.” He sent a pointed look toward his sister. “Caragh, you will remain here.”
“No, I won’t.” She moved between them, her face flushed. “The last time you left, I nearly starved to death. If it weren’t for Styr, I’d have run out of food.” She continued talking, jabbing her finger at her older brother. “I’m weary of staying behind, and I won’t do it. I trust him, more than either of you, to find food. He helped me find crab, and fish, and—”
“I thought you took him captive?” Terence interrupted.
“I did. It took almost an hour to get him chained up. Seon helped me, but they killed—” Her words broke off, and she took a deep breath to hold back the emotion.
Terence sobered at the mention of the old man, and Caragh composed herself. “Enough of this. What matters now is finding Brendan.”
“There’s also the problem of you spending several nights alone with this man,” Ronan pointed out.
Caragh’s face turned scarlet, and Styr stiffened, waiting for her to confess that he was married and nothing had happened between them. Instead, she reached up to touch his face. “Don’t harm him, Ronan. He’s a good man. One who has defended me, given me food, and one who I have…come to care for.”
Styr froze in place as Caragh came up before him, standing on tiptoe. Before he could protest, she pulled his face down to hers, kissing him lightly. What was she doing? He couldn’t—
Every thought deserted him when she deepened the kiss, daring more. He understood that this was a false kiss, one meant to reassure her brothers that he wasn’t going to harm her. It was a ruse, and that was all.
The softness of her lips upon his were innocent, unknowing of the ways between a man and a woman. It startled him, and instinct warned him to break it off. But the gentle kiss reached inside his stony heart and breathed life into him.
He couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had affected him in this way. His body and mind were at war, his honor caught up in the softness of a woman’s mouth.
Caragh was trying to deceive her brothers. He understood that this kiss was only her effort to spare his life, though he didn’t need her protection.
She continued kissing him, but a dark rage blistered inside him, that she would try to use him in this way. Did she honestly believe that he would betray Elena for a woman he hardly knew?
She wanted him to kiss her back, to continue the deception. But if he kissed her back, he intended it to be on his terms—not hers.
Caragh wasn’t about to let her brothers slaughter the Lochlannach. The kiss was a reckless act, one meant to fool them into believing she and Styr had come to love each other.
But Styr was standing there in shock, not at all returning the kiss. Her brothers were going to see right through it, to know that she was making this up. His life blood would be upon her hands, and he wouldn’t be able to save Elena.
