Chapter Six
Don’t ever try something like that again,” Styr warned. His fury was teetering on the edge, barely contained. While it may have been only a kiss, one meant to fool her brothers, the dishonorable act enraged him. How did she dare to throw herself at him, pretending that they were lovers?
Caragh blanched at his tone, apologizing quietly. “I know my brothers. They drew wrong conclusions from Kelan’s words. I was afraid they would harm you.”
“I can defend myself,” he reminded her. Using his full height, he glared down at her. “I have no need to justify my actions to them. You took me prisoner. I was only trying to return to my wife.”
He saw her flinch at the mention of Elena. Good. She needed to remember that he wasn’t a man she could use upon a whim.
You didn’t have to kiss her back,his conscience reminded him.You could have pushed her away.
And that was the splinter that dug into his guilt, blistering his rage. If he hadn’t dared to continue the deception, he would never have known what it was to be kissed by Caragh. He had reacted on impulse, only to be stunned by the physical response he’d never anticipated. But there was no one to blame, save himself.
Right now, he wanted to plunge his head into icy seawater, to clear away the confused thoughts. He wasn’t a man to be unfaithful. In all his five years of marriage to Elena, never once had he looked at another woman. Honesty and loyalty meant everything to him. He would never forsake his wife, no matter how one woman’s kiss had affected him.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “but my brothers aren’t forgiving. They won’t harm you if they believe that we mean something to one another. That you are a man of honor.”
“Iama man of honor,” he shot back. Though it didn’t feel like it now. He turned his back on her and waded into the frigid sea, welcoming the wind that tore through his chainmail corselet, soaking his hose against his skin.
But Caragh’s kiss haunted him in the way her soft lips had melted into his, like a taste of sweet honey. She’d lost herself, clinging to him when he’d kissed her back.
While Elena had accepted his embraces, she’d always seemed uncertain—almost unwilling to kiss him. He’d tried to be gentle, but he’d never been able to fully enjoy himself, for fear of hurting her.
Whereas this woman had eagerly opened to him, her tongue touching his. Her breasts had pressed against him as she’d wrapped her arms around his neck, yielding sweetly.
No doubt it was the celibacy coming back to haunt him. He’d left Elena alone for a time, while they’d prepared for the journey. She’d suffered such terrible seasickness, he hadn’t bothered her then, either. Over and over, he replayed the image of his wife’sface and the sadness in her eyes. And he cursed himself for daring to kiss another.
Styr busied himself with preparing the boat, needing the activity to push away the errant thoughts. No longer would he think of how good it had felt to be in Caragh’s arms. He would maintain his distance from her and lock away the dark cravings she’d evoked.
When she climbed aboard the ship, her skirts were sodden. He should have offered to carry her, but he had been unable to touch her. His willpower was shredded to a weak thread.
She set the basket on the far end, choosing a seat on the opposite side of the boat. When her brothers joined them, he learned that Terence was accustomed to sailing. The man took the side rudder to steer them east while Styr took his place with the oars. He pulled hard, letting the mindless exertion consume him.
Ronan took the place behind him, rowing in rhythm. “I don’t believe that either of you are in love,” he said, beneath his breath.
“You’d be right,” Styr admitted, keeping his voice low. It was a relief to admit the truth to the man. Glancing behind him, he added, “Caragh took me by surprise with that kiss.”
“Our sister has a soft heart, and she thought we were going to kill you for sharing her hut.” Ronan pulled hard against the oars. “It’s still a consideration.”
Styr said nothing, knowing there was no good reply to that.
“It’s a simple matter, Lochlannach,” Ronan continued. “Hurt our sister, and we hurt you.”
“I would expect nothing less.” He understood a man like Ronan, determined to protect his sister. “But Caragh and I are hardly more than strangers to each other.”
“Yet, she’s coerced you into helping her search for our wooden-headed brother Brendan, isn’t that right?”
“My intent is to find my kinsmen who were last seen with your brother,” Styr told the man. “I hope, for his sake, that they are unharmed.”
“Brendan’s lacking in brains,” Ronan said. “If you have brothers of your own, you’ll understand that.”
“I had four sisters. One older brother.”
Ronan stopped rowing and stared back at Styr. Crossing himself, he added in a loud voice, “My God, it’s a wonder you haven’t gone mad. Four sisters?” He glanced at Caragh with a shudder.
“Now what is the matter with sisters?” Caragh demanded.
“It would take years to name it all,” Ronan shot back. “They cry for no reason. If you make a mistake, they’ll hold a grudge for the rest of your life.”
