“Likely she’ll blame me for being unable to guard her.” He continued walking, though his pace was not nearly as swift. “She would be right.”
She reached up to touch his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “It wasn’t your fault. And I believe, when you find her, she will be so happy to see you, everything will change.”
He said nothing, a tight set to his jaw, as if he didn’t believe her.
“You’re a good man, Styr. You deserve the happiness she can give you.” Though he gave no reply, he tightened his arms around her. Caragh allowed herself to imagine it as an embrace instead of a duty. For she believed that, despite his outwardly rough manner, Styr was a man of worth.
As he continued to walk, she saw the shadow of guilt upon him. Why? He’d done nothing at all wrong—even the kiss had been against his will.
Was it because their marriage wasn’t as strong as it seemed? Would his wife truly blame him for being captured, for being unable to save her?
From his brooding mood, it seemed possible.
As he walked, Caragh allowed herself to daydream. If she were wedded to a man like Styr, she would not fault him for the attack.
His driven need to find Elena was powerful, a force that only deepened Caragh’s attraction to him. But she knew better than to reveal it. Better to bury away useless feelings that meant nothing.
Regret pierced through her heart as she thought of her past failures. She’d been so trusting, believing Kelan when he’d saidhe would love only her. In the end, she hadn’t been the one he’d wanted.
It had stung deeply. After she’d shielded herself from any further advances, she’d turned inward, never speaking to other men or letting herself dream of a future. During the famine, there were no thoughts at all of a marriage or a family.
But now, she found herself wondering again. She’d survived, and there was no reason to abandon her own dreams. Here in the city, there were dozens of men. Black-haired men with handsome faces, golden-haired Norsemen like Styr. Strong men, young men...men who might be wanting a wife. Or children of their own.
Caragh’s thoughts drifted back to the young boy at the slave auction. She had wanted children once, wanted to feel the tug of young hands upon her skirts. She’d dreamed of kissing a baby-soft cheek and cradling an infant in her arms.
It was a future she would never have at Gall Tír. But here, it wasn’t so impossible.
A prickle of fear clung to her courage, along with more self-consciousness about her thin appearance. Could she even gain a man’s notice? Was it worth staying in Áth Cliath for a little longer, in the hopes of meeting someone? The voice of doubt warned that few men would want a half-starved woman with nothing at all to bring to the marriage.
Styr set her down near a large rectangular dwelling. “This is the place,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“It’s as the man described it to me.” He pointed towards the door. Upon the wood, there appeared to be a monstrous face, and there were other stone carvings beside it. Elaborate runes were engraved within the limestone.
“What do you want to do?” she asked.
“If my kinsman Onund is here, he will be among the thralls. He may come outside, or he may be working within the dwelling.”
“Should we hide ourselves?” she suggested.
“We’ll watch over them until we see a chance to go inside.” He took her hand and pulled her back around the edge of the stone wall. Caragh obeyed, keeping her shoulders against the fortification.
She fell silent, waiting beside him as the minutes passed. If he were alone, she suspected Styr would try scaling the wall to infiltrate the dwelling. As it was, she’d become a burden on him.
“You should try to go inside,” she whispered at last. “There’s a pile of peat stacked over there. I’ll hide behind it.”
“No. I’m not leaving you alone.”
She thought a moment and pressed again. “I’ll be safe enough, so long as I stay hidden. And if anything happens, I’ll call out for help.”
“You could be taken while I’m inside,” he argued. “I won’t leave you without my protection.”
“If there is danger there, we’ll both be captured,” she reminded him. “It’s better if one of us stays behind. Give me your blade, and when you know it’s safe, you’ll come back for me,” she suggested. “If you don’t return within an hour, I’ll get help.” With a wry smile, she teased, “I can limp back to my brothers. With any luck, I might arrive by morning.”
He didn’t want to leave her; she could see the reluctance in his face. But he recognized the sense in her words. With a sigh, he gave a nod. “Stay out of sight and don’t go anywhere.”
It was evident that he didn’t like the plan but could see no alternative. Caragh waited until she was certain no one was watching. She hurried across from the dwelling and moved several of the peat bricks aside to make a space for herself. It feltgood to sit, and when she was well hidden, Styr approached the dwelling.
