She paled at the sight. Her gaze shifted to the other man, and her emotions held a trace of regret.
Taking the fallen knife, she hid it among her possessions, leaving both of them weaponless. When the man started to revive, Caragh helped him to his feet. Quietly, she ordered, ‘Leave my home, Kelan.’
The look in the man’s eyes was murderous. His voice was hoarse as he gritted out, ‘Why did you save him? He doesn’t deserve to live, Caragh.’
‘Go,’ she repeated. ‘He is my prisoner, not yours.’ Though she kept her voice calm, Styr sensed her unease with the man.
Kelan’s gaze swept over her, lingering over her body. ‘You’re not safe with him.’
She shielded her thoughts, her violet eyes growing cold. ‘It’s no longer your concern.’
A dark flush came over Kelan’s face. ‘He slaughtered our kin, or did you forget?’
‘Our brothers attacked them first,’ she reminded him.
‘You’re defending a murderer?’ The disbelief in his voice held venom. ‘He’s worth nothing at all, Caragh.’
She gave no reply but opened the door in a silent command to leave. Although the man obeyed, Styr knew it was only a matter of time before Kelan attacked again. And next time, he might not be able to save himself. His earlier resolve to free himself was now critical.
Caragh closed the door and lowered her head for a moment, not facing him. Her shoulders slumped, and he realised she was trying not to cry. The weight of the world seemed to bear down on her, and he saw her swipe her hands across her eyes before she turned to face him.
Her gaze drifted to his wounded leg. ‘He hurt you.’
Styr shrugged. ‘It’s nothing. Just a slight cut.’ But despite his insistence, she was already reaching for water and a cloth to tend it.
She was entirely too soft-hearted. Too trusting and naïve, especially with a man like him who knew nothing of forgiveness.
‘Who was he to you?’
Her mouth tightened, but she shrugged. ‘He’s a member of our clan, that’s all.’
‘No. He was more than that.’ Styr hadn’t missed the underlying tension between them.
Caragh let out a sigh. ‘He wanted to wed me once. But I refused him.’ Before he could voice another question, she met his gaze squarely. ‘And I don’t want to talk about it any more.’
As soon as she touched his thigh with the damp cloth, he reflexively jerked.
‘I’m sorry. I’ll try to be gentle,’ she assured him. But it wasn’t the touch of her hands against the knife wound. It was the sudden softness of female fingers, perilously close to his groin. Though he told himself that the sudden response would have happened to any man, he felt himself tightening with an unwanted arousal.
Styr gritted his teeth, pressing his temple against the post to evoke the harsh pain of his head wound. He needed something to distract himself from Caragh’s hands. He could imagine her palm sliding up his inner thigh, cupping his arousal. Elena had never done such a thing but usually lay beneath him while he’d joined with her.
Sometimes…he wished she would have touched him in return. To know that she desired his attentions instead of accepted them.
He let out a hiss of air as Caragh finished cleansing the wound. ‘It doesn’t need to be stitched,’ she agreed. ‘You were right.’
Thank God for that. She stepped away, but as she did, he spied the redness around her dark blue eyes and remembered that she’d been crying.
‘You were gone a long time,’ he said. ‘Did something happen to upset you?’
She shrugged. ‘I walked for miles, but there was still no food.’ Her eyes gleamed again and she admitted, ‘I was angry with myself. There was a rabbit, but my stone missed him. I couldn’t catch him while running because I lost my breath.’ Her features tightened with anger. ‘We’re going to run out of food tonight.’
The desperation in her voice affected him more than he wanted it to. He should ignore it for, once she was out of food, she’d have to free him.
But he heard himself saying, ‘You live by the sea. You won’t run out of food.’
‘Our nets have been empty for some time now.’
‘Go out further,’ he said. ‘The large fish are in the deeper waters.’
‘I can’t.’ She trembled a little, as if too afraid of the sea. There was danger in the deepest waves, true, but Styr revelled in the adventure of sailing. Harnessing the wind was like trying to steal the power of the gods. Even during the wild storm on the journey here, he’d welcomed the reckless force of the waves. It was freedom in its purest form.
‘You also need bait,’ he continued. ‘Go out to the beach with a torch. Look for crab along the shoreline. Search near the seaweed.’
‘I haven’t seen crab in weeks. There aren’t—’
‘Trust me,’ he insisted. ‘More of them come out at night. You’ll need them for the fishing lines.’
‘I shouldn’t leave you here alone. Kelan might return.’
He sent her a disbelieving look. ‘I can defend myself, Caragh. Or did you forget that I defeated him even while I was chained?’
She ignored him and let out a rough sigh. Opening her basket, she revealed a bunch of clover and changed the subject. ‘I’m afraid this is all I could find. I have enough grain for us tonight, but that’s all.’
‘So you’ll run out of food and starve to death, without a fight. You won’t even try.’ He stood up, hoping to provoke her anger. In her eyes, he could see the hopelessness, the physical weakness dragging her lower.
‘It’s not about trying.’ She dropped the basket and confronted him. ‘Do you think I haven’t scoured the shores, looking for food? Don’t you think all of us have tried?’
‘I think you’d rather wait on your brothers to save you than try to save yourself.’ He deliberately spurred her temper, knowing it would overcome the fear. Rage was the best weapon against the suffocating doubts.
‘Perhaps I should have let Kelan kill you,’ she muttered. ‘Then there’d be one less person to feed.’
‘You haven’t fed me today,’ he reminded her. ‘And from the look of it, you haven’t eaten, either.’
And at last, her fury got the best of her. Tears of frustration streamed down her face. ‘I haven’t eaten for nearly a fortnight, save a few greens and a soup that’s mostly water. I can’t remember the last time I had meat, and I’m so hungry, I can hardly walk anywhere without getting tired.’ She tore down the woollen cloth from where it covered the hole in the wall.
‘Then you had to come and destroy the only home I have.’ She wrapped the brat around her head and shoulders, holding on to herself as if she could hold back the emotions. ‘I don’t know what to do any more. It’s frustrating to have nothing to show for my efforts.’
He said nothing at first, for this woman wasn’t his responsibility. She’d taken him prisoner, and there was no reason to offer his advice.
But when he saw her shadowed face, he could think only of his wife. Was Elena hungry, as well? Was anyone watching over her? Or had they turned their backs on her?
If Caragh died, none of the others would free him. She was his only hope of escaping. And the only way to do that was to gain her trust.
‘Set me free, and I’ll help you get food,’ he said at last. ‘Then you can guide me to find my wife and kinsmen.’