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Caragh regarded him. If so, then it might be their salvation. She’d never been able to catch anything but small fish in the shallow water.
She pulled out some of the fishing lines belonging to her brother and Styr repeated his instructions, explaining how she should pierce the shell with the hook.
‘Set out the lines,’ he said. ‘And in the morning, you’ll see.’
He appeared confident that it would work, but Caragh wasn’t so certain. The sea was unpredictable, and more often than not, she’d caught nothing.
She placed the bait and the fishing lines in her basket, walking slowly past Styr. His demeanour was stoic, almost arrogant in his belief that she could not fail in this. But when he turned to look at her, there was a slight shift in his expression, almost as if he held empathy towards her.
His dark eyes held a steadiness, willing her to believe in this. A tightness seized up in her chest, for she desperately wanted to hope. Her gaze passed over his wounds. The cut upon his leg didn’t seem to be bleeding any more, but his head wound was still swollen.
‘Thank you for helping me,’ she said. ‘I pray that this will work.’
In the dim light of her house, she noticed a difference in his posture. There was something unusual about the way he was sitting.
Frowning, she started to approach, but he said, ‘Go and set the lines before your torch dies out.’
‘All right.’ She reached for her basket and the torch, adding, ‘If I do catch any fish, I promise I’ll free you in the morning.’
He sobered, giving a single nod. Though she didn’t know if it was safe to make such a vow, she was a woman of her word. And their lives depended on catching these fish.
Styr crept outside, shadowing Caragh. Immediately, he noticed that she was choosing the wrong location for her lines. No fish of any size would swim near the pools where she’d set the bait. He remained hidden, watching as she moved from one line to the other. In all, she set out a dozen, in various locations along the shallow waters. He waited until she was further away and then knelt down, using his shackled hands to pick up the first line, moving it out into deeper water.
Thor’s blood, he shouldn’t be interfering like this. But there was no choice. He needed supplies and food before he could go after Elena.
The tide was going out, and Styr crouched down, searching for a place where the line would lure larger fish. Though his hose grew soaked, he waded towards a sandbar. He gripped the baited line behind him, searching until he found the right place. Luck was with him, and his foot pressed against a stone, one large enough to hold the line. Kneeling down in the water, he manoeuvred his hands until he was able to secure the line with the stone.
When he turned back, he was startled to glimpse the outline of a boat, anchored near the shore. Caragh had said nothing about it, claiming that the fishermen had taken their boats with them. This one was set apart from the settlement, almost as if someone had tried to hide it.
But now, he had a means of leaving this place. A way of retracing the path of his wife and kinsmen. Thank the gods.
With a quick glance, he saw that Caragh was starting to return. Styr rose from the water and hurried towards the shore. He melted back into the shadows, running towards her hut. Though a close glance would reveal that he was no longer bound to the post, he hoped he could feign sleep. His clothing might dry by morning, though it was doubtful. He leaned against the post, curling his body to hide his chains.
Within minutes, the door creaked open. ‘Styr?’ Caragh whispered.
He didn’t answer, hoping she would go to sleep and leave him alone. The wind blew against his back, making his wet clothing more uncomfortable.
With his eyes shut tightly, he ignored the footsteps approaching, willing her to leave him alone. Before he realised what was happening, she had laid his cloak over him. The wool was warm from where she’d set it by the fire.
Her scent clung to the cloak, and it rendered him motionless. No one had ever done anything like this for him. He doubted if she’d even realised the significance. Kindness came to Caragh as naturally as breathing.
He closed his eyes, damning himself for a fool. There was no way he could leave her behind now, even if they did catch fish. It would haunt him for the rest of his life if she starved to death.
Whether or not she wanted it, he was going to take Caragh with him when he went in search of his wife.
Someone had to look after her.
Chapter Four
There were no fish. Caragh cursed and stared at the empty hook on the seventh line she’d checked. Seven crabs…all gone. Her mind bordered on hysteria, for if she hadn’t listened to the Lochlannach, she could have had crab meat last night, instead of cooked grain. Furious tears rose up, but she refused to weep. It would do no good at all.
The eighth and ninth lines were empty, as well. When she reached the tenth, she sat down upon the rock, almost trembling with the knowledge of what she would find. Or wouldn’t find, in this case.
‘Did you catch anything, a chara?’ An elderly female voice broke the stillness and she spied frail Iona, standing on the beach.
‘No.’ She picked up the tenth line, and saw a crab still dangling from the hook. ‘But take this.’ She unhooked the crab and held it out to the old woman. ‘It’s not much, but perhaps it will help a little.’
Iona smiled and shook her head. ‘You’re a dear one, Caragh, but no. I see what’s before me, and my days are numbered. Why waste it upon an old crone like me, when it’s a young woman like you who needs it more?’
Caragh ignored her and moved forwards, pressing the crab into her hand. ‘Boil it and you’ll have meat and broth. Please.’ She folded the old woman’s fingers over the crab, and a softness entered Iona’s eyes.
She raised her hand to Caragh’s forehead. ‘You’re a good child. How I wish you and Kelan had wed.’
The smile froze upon her face. Once, the handsome man had made her laugh, spinning stories that had made it easy to be with him. She’d believed that the rest of their days would be filled with happiness. But he’d tossed it aside for someone else.
Iona wanted to believe that her son was a good man, but Caragh wasn’t about to disillusion the older woman. Too late, she’d learned that Kelan had a wandering eye. On the day they were meant to wed, he’d left her standing alone, humiliated before her friends and family. And when she’d sought him out, she’d caught him with another woman. The bitterness of that day hadn’t diminished, even after a year.
‘He still wants you,’ Iona said. ‘You should forgive him for his mistakes.’
Caragh said nothing. She’d loved Kelan, only to have it thrown back in her face.
Iona’s gaze grew distant, staring suddenly at the waves. ‘You’ve a rough journey ahead of you. And your heart will break.’
The eerie tone in the woman’s voice curled into her spine. Iona spoke like a soothsayer, her voice faraway as she continued. ‘But you’ll be stronger for it.’ Her clouded eyes narrowed. ‘The path before you will only end in disappointment.’
‘You’re not making me feel better,’ she told Iona with a dark smile, ‘if that was what you were trying to do.’
‘I say what I see,’ Iona countered. ‘And you will find your happiness, when you learn to walk away from what was never meant to be.’ With that enigmatic message, the old woman returned to her home.
Caragh rubbed her arms as the sea wind swept across the sand. She was cold and hungry, and her stomach wrenched with the pain of emptiness. Ignoring the last two fishing lines, she strode back to her home, planning to tell Styr exactly what she thought of his advice. Baiting the lines with the crabs had given her nothing at all.
She pushed the door open and her heart nearly stopped when she saw him standing a short distance away from the post where she’d chained him. ‘How—how did you get free of the post?’ His hands were still chained behind his back, but no longer was he confined to the place where he’d been.
‘I told you I would free myself,’ was his nonchalant answer. ‘Did you find any fish?’
She stared up at the post and saw the broken beam near the top. How he’d ever managed to climb that high, sliding his chains over the top, was beyond her ken. ‘No. There was nothing.’
‘You didn’t put the lines in the right place.’
‘I did!’ she insisted. ‘I spread them all over the shoreline.’
‘You put them in places where the water was too shallow.’
‘And how would you know?’ She had a suspicion that he had been free, long before this morning.
‘Because I followed you last night.’ He moved in, and when he stood before her, she felt intimidated by his immense height. Simply to look into his eyes meant craning her neck back.
‘I changed one of your lines,’ he said. ‘Did you check that one?’
She shook her head. ‘But all the others—’
‘The others would have been washed away by the tide. Or the smaller fish would take the crab.’ He used his shoulders to push the door open, waiting for her to lead.
But she didn’t move. ‘If you freed yourself already, then why are you still here?’
‘I’m not free.’ His voice grew harsh, his expression filled with frustration. ‘You still have to remove the manacles.’
She said nothing, unable to trust him. He led the way outside, changing the direction to walk along a rocky ledge that extended out beyond the shore. ‘There.’ He nodded towards the sea, but she could not see what he was referring to. ‘Wade into the water and you’ll come upon a sandbar. I secured the line under the water.’
‘I’m not going out there,’ she insisted. ‘The tide has come in.’
‘Do you want fish or not?’
She stared at him, not knowing whether or not he was serious. The idea of wading into the water didn’t appeal to her, though the early summer air was warm. ‘How do I know you’re not lying to me?’
‘I’ll walk with you,’ he said and stepped into the water up to his knees. Wading through the waves, he continued towards the sandbar, his arms still bound back by the chains.
He turned back, but Caragh still didn’t move. ‘Do you see anything?’
‘Come and find out for yourself.’ His expression was unreadable, and though she didn’t at all want to get wet, she stepped into the frigid water, wincing at the cold.
When she reached his side, he said, ‘Reach into the water near my foot. I’m standing on the stone and you can lift it to grasp the line.’
His muscular thigh was close to her, and she brushed against his calf as she reached for the stone. Beneath it, she felt for the fishing line, and was startled to realise that there was something at the other end of the hook. Something was fighting hard, and in her excitement, she pulled against the line. Moving backwards, she gripped it steadily as she approached the shallows.
‘Styr, we have a fish!’ She couldn’t tell how large it was, but joy brimmed up inside her. When at last she pulled the fish from the water, she found that it was not large, only the length from her wrist to her elbow. But it was food.
She laughed, holding the fish and imagining how good it would taste. Thank God.
The Viking emerged from the water, and she hugged the fish to her, not even caring how foolish it was. For now, she had hope of surviving a few more days. But a moment later, her elation dimmed.
‘What is it?’ he asked, walking alongside her towards the hut.
‘I—I should share this with the others,’ she admitted.
He sent her a hard look. ‘Did they ever share anything with you?’
‘It isn’t right to have so much and not offer it to anyone else.’ She thought of Iona and some of the other elderly folk who remained.
‘We aren’t going to eat all of it,’ he told her. ‘Half, maybe, but we’re using the rest for more bait.’
She stared at him, incredulous. ‘We lost most of the bait last night. I’m not using this fish, only to lose half of it.’
He waited beside the door, and his expression was unyielding. ‘I allowed you to try it your way, last night. But it’s clear to me now that you need my guidance.’
His guidance? He spoke as if he were a sea god, able to control the elements. ‘And what do you suggest?’ She swung the door open, not even certain if he would follow. Caragh reached for a knife, preparing to clean the fish.
‘I saw a boat anchored off the shore last night,’ he said. ‘We’ll use it to catch enough fish to store over the next few months. And then we’ll take the boat when we search for my wife and kinsmen.’
We? her skin went cold at the thought. She wasn’t about to go with this man on a boat. He would take her as his hostage, sailing far away from here.
‘I’m not going with you.’
‘Oh, yes, you are.’ His voice turned commanding, and he stood above her, using his physical presence to intimidate her. ‘I’m going to exchange your life for my wife and companions.’
She stared back at him. ‘Not if you’re my prisoner.’
His face tightened, and his dark eyes flared. ‘I freed myself already, søtnos. And I can find a way out of these chains. With your help—’ he leaned in, his warm breath against her cheek ‘—or without it.’
Styr broke his fast with the meagre portion of baked fish that Caragh had shared with him. The other half of the fish lay upon the board where she’d cleaned it. As he’d ordered, she’d kept the scraps.
Though she didn’t want to go out on the boat with him, he knew she would. He’d whetted her appetite with the small fish, and she’d surprised him when she’d cooked a delicious meal, seasoning the fish with herbs and salt. Yet, neither of them was satisfied by the small amount of food, and he pressed her further.
‘Miles off the coast, you’ll find the larger fish,’ he promised. ‘We’ll get more bait and then catch enough that you won’t be able to eat any more.’
She stared down at her empty plate, her mood melancholy. He’d thought she would be eager to go out, but instead, she appeared to dread it.
‘We will return by nightfall,’ he swore. ‘I give you my word.’
She still wasn’t answering, and he moved to sit across from her. Waiting for her to speak. To say something.
But just like Elena, she was closing off her thoughts. She didn’t want to go, and she didn’t trust him at all. He couldn’t fault her for that, but already he’d spent two nights here. The fierce need to find his wife and kinsmen went beyond longing. He had to save them and bring them back.
‘Bring the fish and all of your family’s fishing supplies,’ he ordered. ‘We’ll go out now.’
She stood, taking a moment to wash the wooden platter they’d shared for the fish. Then she went by the fire and he saw how the damp gown hung against her knees.
‘I’m afraid,’ she admitted. ‘It’s been months since I went on a boat.’
He sensed there was more to it, but he didn’t press her. ‘Change your gown, and bring a warm wrap,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll stand outside and wait for you.’
Caragh lifted her dark blue eyes to his, nodding. ‘I will go. But only because I believe you can help me get the fish I need. And because the others need your help, as well.’ She reached out to touch his arm, and the coolness of her fingers sent a shock of sensation through him. ‘If we do catch fish, then I will go with you to help find your wife.’
‘First, remove my chains,’ he ordered quietly. ‘You gave your promise.’
Her violet eyes met his, uncertainty lining her face. ‘Not yet,’ she whispered. ‘Perhaps tonight.’
His rage magnified, that she would not keep the vow. ‘You said you would free me, if we caught fish. And so we did.’
She gripped her arms, her gaze lowering to the ground. ‘Only one.’
He moved in so close, she was trapped against the back of the wall. Her hands moved up to press him back, but he didn’t move. ‘You try my patience, woman.’
‘I’m not your woman.’
‘No, you’re not,’ he agreed. But her hands moved over the chainmail hauberk, and though it was only her effort to break free, a sudden vision flashed into his mind…of her hands continuing to move lower.
Damn her for conjuring such images.
