Chapter Eleven #2
“Why?” he demanded, taking the torch from her and returning it to the iron sconce. “You have no place with us.”
“Don’t I?” She regarded him steadily, taking a seat near the rudder. “All my life, I’ve done what others told me to do. I obeyed my parents and my brothers. I stayed at home and did what I could to take care of Brendan. I’ve never done anything that I wanted to do. Not until now.”
She lowered her voice so that only he could hear her. “You kissed me back.”
“Yes.” He offered no excuses for it, but there were none to give.
“I just want to stay with you, until the end,” she whispered.
And then, he understood. She needed to know if Elena was alive, to know whether or not he would return to his wife. But more, she wanted to know if he felt any love for her at all.
His chest tightened, holding back the words of dishonor.
Caragh’s bright spirit and her fascination with new experiences and places made it easy to enjoy her presence.
Around her, he could be himself. He didn’t have to think about the way she wanted him to act or whether or not the moon was in the correct phase to have a child.
He could simply be.
“Stay,” he said. He refused to think of the implications, or worry about what the morning would bring if he found Elena. But the thought of finding his wife no longer brought a sense of relief or joy. It was an obligation he had to fulfill.
The thought of living with her, sensing her disappointment in his inability to give her a child...made him wary. He knew the truth of his marriage. It had reached the breaking point, and he didn’t know what he wanted any more. Elena hadn’t been happy in years.
But if he ended their union, she had another choice. She could find another man to marry, and perhaps have the baby she wanted. He didn’t have to imprison her in a marriage filled with resentment and lost hopes.
He could set both of them free. All he had to do was speak the words of divorce in the presence of witnesses.
And Thor’s blood, it tempted him. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in her scent. Wishing it was Caragh who belonged to him.
She took his hand, gazing up at the stars. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
He leaned in, his hand catching the hair at her nape. Without taking his eyes from her, he admitted, “Yes.”
He didn’t know how long they sat beside one another, but he held her hand in his, grateful for her presence.
The winds eased their travel, bringing them near to the green stone.
The fragment of rock rose up from the sea, coated in moss and grasses.
The sight of it, reflected against the moonlit sea, tightened the nerves inside of Caragh.
From the moment Styr saw it, he’d grown more distant, as if plagued by thoughts he wouldn’t voice.
The men drew the ship in as close as they dared, and Styr carried her to the shore, never minding that his clothes grew soaked in the sea.
They made camp, building a fire and eating the food his men had brought along with them. Though she knew she ought to be tired, a restlessness heightened within Caragh. And when they made camp, Styr set up her tent far away from the others.
Away from him.
She lay inside the shelter, darkness enveloping her.
When she’d dared to come with Styr, she’d not imagined what it would do to her heart.
It was a physical ache to be apart from him.
Right now, she wanted to lie beside him, to feel the powerful warmth of his body against hers.
She needed him in a way she didn’t understand.
And when she crossed the camp of sleeping Norsemen, she entered Styr’s tent, not knowing whether he would let her stay.
He jerked awake at the slight sound when she moved through the opening, and she said, “It’s me,” before he could draw a weapon.
Styr let out a sigh and she heard the sound of a blade slipping back within its sheath. “Is something wrong?”
“I didn’t want to be alone this night,” she admitted. “I just wanted to sleep beside you. If you will allow it. I needed—”
You, she wanted to say. But she didn’t finish the words, afraid he would turn her away.
For a time, she could hear only the sound of his breathing. She sensed an invisible tension, as if he were making a decision.
“I’ll go, if that’s what you want,” she whispered, frustrated with herself for even daring to ask.
But his hand caught hers, and he dragged her down upon him, seizing her mouth in a kiss.
He wasn’t wearing armor, and the touch of his hard, bare chest was dizzying.
His skin was so warm, she found herself unable to stop from moving her hands over him, exploring his flesh.
Every ridged muscle, the fine texture of his hair.
He stole her breath, and she felt as if she could touch him forever.
“You shouldn’t be here, Caragh,” he said against her lips.
“I know.” He was right. Even to be in his presence like this was so terribly wrong. “I didn’t come here for this,” she admitted. “I just wanted to lie beside you for one last night.”
He drew her against him, her back nestled against his chest, his arms around her. But instead of lending comfort, her heart beat faster. Every part of her body craved more. And she couldn’t understand it.
Against her hips, she felt the rise of his arousal and knew that he was not unaffected, either. It was a grim torture, for she wanted him in a way she shouldn’t.
“I wed Elena when I was Brendan’s age,” Styr began. “Our parents arranged it.”
It was the first time she’d heard him openly speak of his marriage, and she reached for his hand, saying nothing.
“Elena was beautiful, and I knew the arrangement would bring together our tribes.” He released her hand, bringing both of his arms around her. “She was a quiet woman but strong in her own way.”
“What do you mean?”
“She planned every moment of her day, from the time she rose to the time she fell asleep at night. She worked in our garden every morning, wove cloth or sewed in the afternoon, and cleaned our house every evening. Each day, exactly the same. There was never any change, but she didn’t want it to be different.
It was her own sort of control, her own power. ”
His hand moved to hers. “We were happy for a time, but she wanted a child. I couldn’t give that to her.”
Beneath his voice, she sensed his frustration.
“We tried for years,” he admitted. “And never once did her belly grow round with my child. Elena believed the gods were punishing us for something we did. Or didn’t do.”
Caragh turned to face him. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “Some men and women are not blessed with children.”
“The first two years, we kept trying,” he said. “During the full moon or during the crescent. At night and during the morning, until we couldn’t bear the sight of each other.” His hand came to touch the side of her face. “It was impossible to please her.”
“Why did you stay?” she ventured, not knowing how he would respond. A fragile hope burrowed within her heart, that perhaps there might be a chance for the two of them.
“Because I didn’t want to give up. A warrior never surrenders in any battle. It’s not my way.”
“And now?” Caragh asked, resting her hand upon his heart. His legs were tangled with hers, and although his body remained aroused, it didn’t threaten her.
“I thought of sailing away, of giving her distance.” He covered her hand with his, before bringing it to rest at her waist. “When I offered to leave, she said she would come with me.”
He expelled a breath. “This, from the woman who never altered her day by a single moment.”
“She didn’t want to give up on your marriage, either,” Caragh said, her throat closing up. She could understand that. If she were wedded to a man like Styr, she would follow him across the seas.
But hearing the truth from him only warned that there would be no happiness for them. Not if he and Elena wanted to stay together.
He said nothing, but only held her tighter against him. “Every day I’ve spent with you is a betrayal of her.” The words were a blade twisted inside her, wounding her heart. Then he added, “I won’t forget a single moment of it, Caragh. Or you.”
His embrace only deepened the heartbreak. But leaving him now would only heighten the loneliness. Her eyes blurred, and she admitted, “I shouldn’t have come here.”
“Why?”
“Because it only makes me desire you more.” She started to sit up, and he caught her wrist.
“I can’t give you an answer,” he admitted. “Not until I see her. If she’s still alive.”
“You’re her husband. I understand that.” Though she tried to keep the pain from her words, they caught in her throat. “You must go to her.”
“I have to see that she is provided for.” He kept his hold upon her wrist, drawing her back against him. His hands moved down her side in a caress. “And if she wants to return to Hordafylke, I will arrange it.”
“Without you?” she ventured.
He turned her upon her back, his body above hers. “What do you think?”
She couldn’t breathe from the intensity of heat that rushed over her. Against the juncture of her thighs, she felt the hardened length of his shaft, and she couldn’t stop herself from opening to him. Between her legs, she ached, and even her breasts were sensitive to the weight of him.
“She deserves to be happy,” he said. “And perhaps it shouldn’t be with me.”
Caragh shielded her heart from the wild hope that beat within her. Though she wanted desperately to believe that he might divorce his wife and stay with her, he’d made no promises.
“You deserve to be happy, too,” she whispered, reaching her arms around his torso.
He shook his head. “The gods have cursed me. For I have no sons or daughters to carry on my blood.” He moved to his side, drawing his hand over her hip.
She recognized the warning. He was telling her that even if they did come together, there might never be a child. But she didn’t want to believe it.
“You might...with me,” she whispered. She couldn’t believe she had dared to speak of such a thing. Not when they had been so careful to avoid touching.
“Do you want to know what it would be like to feel such pleasure with me?” His whisper was a half-growl, and she wasn’t sure what he meant by that.
“Yes,” she breathed, “but it would be wrong.” Even as she spoke the words, desire flooded through her, making her ache between her this.
“It would be, if I touched you,” he agreed, his voice resonant within the darkness. “But we won't do that.”
He pulled his hands away, and she veiled her own disappointment. “I know. We shouldn't—”
“No. But if you stay here tonight, you obey my commands.” He stared at her with a silent question.
It would be her choice.