“They talk too much and tell your mother everything you do,” Terence joined in. “If you tie up the cat’s tail or put frogs in the garden.”
Caragh glared at him, and Terence continued. “But we do love you, Sister.” He winked at her.
“Four,” Ronan repeated. “I’d have thrown myself into the sea, for certain.”
Styr couldn’t help but enjoy the man’s humor. There was an easiness about these men, a camaraderie like the friendship he had with Ragnar. “I often took the boat out to sea, on my own, to get away from them. It’s why I’m a fisherman.”
“You don’t act like one,” Terence countered. “I’d have taken you for a tribe leader, with your height and strength.”
Styr shrugged, not truly answering the question.
“Go back and sit with our sister,” Ronan suggested. “Terence can take a turn to row until we catch the wind.”
Styr preferred to remain where he was, but he saw Caragh huddled at the stern of the boat. She clutched her woolenbratover her hair, and her teeth chattered. When he moved to sitslightly in front of her, she kept her voice low. “I hope you find Elena.”
“I won’t stop until I do.” His purpose was clear, and he added, “If you see her—”
“I’ll say nothing.” She stiffened, trembling. In a whisper, she added, “What I did was a mistake. It will never happen again.”
The journey to Áth Cliath shouldn’t have taken longer than a day of sailing, but the winds had picked up intensity, the darker clouds sweeping across the sky. Caragh sat upon the floor of the boat, her hands clenched together. Though her gown had dried, she couldn’t stop from trembling. It wasn’t merely from the cold—her fears had multiplied as she thought of her father’s drowning.
A storm brewed, and she closed her eyes, not wanting to imagine a death at sea. The boat rocked against the waves, and she clung to the bench just in front of the stern, praying for calmer waters. Behind her, Terence held fast to the rudder.
“Should we move in closer to land?” he was shouting above the wind.
Styr made a reply, but she couldn’t hear him over the roar. The rain began to pound upon them, a piercing wet shower that made her grimace.
The swells broke over the top of the boat, spraying her with the water. Though it was still daylight, dark mists shadowed their surroundings, making it difficult to see the land. She heard her brothers calling out to Styr as they pulled hard on the sail. Risking a glance at him, she saw his muscles straining, his feet balanced across the boat.
She distracted herself from the fear by remembering those strong arms around her, his hands at her waist. And the shocking heat of his kiss...
Self-hatred and a flushed guilt spread through her. He hadn’t wanted to kiss her, and she’d forced it upon him. She’d never meant any harm by it, thinking it would only be a way of redirecting her brothers’ suspicions.
Instead, it had become something she’d never expected. Perhaps it was because it was forbidden to kiss a man already claimed by someone else. She’d mistakenly thought it would mean nothing at all to him.
Against his lips, she’d tasted his anger. The kiss had lashed back against her, almost brutal as he’d ravaged her mouth. But somehow, in the midst of it, she’d sensed a change in him. Her surrender had tamed the rising beast inside him, and though her heart had never ceased its pounding, she’d evoked a response from him.
She didn’t know what to think of that. Only that there was no sense in dwelling upon it. Soon enough, he would be gone from here, reunited with his wife.
And wasn’t that just her ill fortune? Every man that she’d come to care for had been in love with someone else.
Don’t think of him any more. He belongs to her and always will.
She wished that one day a man would love her for herself. And that he would never turn from her to choose another. Daring a glance at Styr, she closed off any feelings, knowing they could never be.
Another spray of water hit the boat, and now she was sitting in an icy pool. Gingerly, Caragh got to her knees, planning to sit on one of the benches. But without warning, a hard wave struck the vessel, and she lost her balance.
The world tipped on its rim, sending her flying backwards. She cried out and tried to grasp the edge of the boat, but she struck the waves, her mouth filling up with seawater. Darkness closed over her, the icy current submerging her beneath the depths.
Panic roiled inside her, and Caragh flailed her arms, struggling to break through the surface. Her gown was weighing her down, and she fought to reach the boat.
There was an enormous splash, and she saw Styr swimming toward her. He’d stripped off the chainmail corselet, his chest bare as he cut through the water. When he reached her, he seized hold of her waist. “Can you swim?” he murmured against her ear.
“I’m t-trying.” Her limbs felt leaden from the cold, and he kept one arm around her, helping her back to the boat. When she gripped the side, he hoisted her up, and her brothers pulled her in. A moment later, he joined her.
Her teeth chattered and she shivered hard, in shock over what had just happened. The boat continued to toss in the wind, but this time, Styr held her steady.
Dimly, she heard something about moving inland, toward the shore, but her body was so cold, she hardly cared. Styr wrapped a blanket around her, but she couldn’t stop shaking.
