Didn’t she understand what was happening? Irritation tensed within him, for Styr knew exactly what Ivar wanted from her. But Caragh seemed innocent of the man’s interest. Or possibly she welcomed it. Tension coiled inside him at the thought. He didn’t want anyone to pursue her or to—
—touch her.
He shut down the thought, feeling as if someone had driven a fist into his stomach. It shouldn’t matter. Caragh was free to make her own choices, and he had no say in them.
Yet jealousy slipped under his skin, digging into his raw mood. He resented the unwanted emotion and tightened the control inside him. There was no reason to be angry with Ivar. The man had done nothing to Caragh, and if she were interested in his advances, why in the name of Thor should he care?
Leave it alone, he warned himself. Think of Elena. Your wife.
But as he shut out the images of Caragh with this man, the memories of his wife that surfaced weren’t the happy ones.
He’d made love to Elena, reaching to pull her warm body against his. He’d wanted her to embrace him, to lie beside him when they both fell asleep. Instead, she’d slid to the fur thest side of the bed, never looking at him. Al most as if she were ashamed of what they’d done. Or worse, that she hadn’t enjoyed any of it.
A dark chill centred within his heart, and he rolled away from her. ‘You’re unhappy, aren’t you?’
Her silence was answer enough.
‘I’ll make an offering to Freya—’ he began, only for her to cut him off.
‘It would do no good at all, and you know it. We’ll never have a child.’
He rolled over, staring at her huddled fig ure. ‘Don’t. We’ll keep trying.’
‘We already try every day,’ she complained. ‘I’m weary of it, Styr. I don’t want to try any more.’
At last, she turned to face him. In the moon light, he saw the streaks of tears running down her face. ‘Do you know what it’s like, being the only married woman without a child? Year after year, I see them, and I see their pity.’
‘Then we’ll leave. If that’s what you want.’
‘I don’t know what I want any more,’ she’d said.
But he’d known the truth. She didn’t want him any more. He’d steeled himself against her rejection, hoping that distance and time would solve the rift that had formed.
Perhaps when he found her, she’d be glad to see him. It might heal their problems, giving them a new start. He wanted to believe it.
Styr glanced over at Caragh. In her eyes, he saw the reflection of the woman his wife had once been. Beautiful and alluring, with a glimpse of hope in her eyes.
He wanted to see Elena like this again. No longer living a life where she was tormented by her barrenness. he wanted to see her smile, to see happiness again, instead of failure.
It had grown late, and he needed to send word to Caragh’s brothers. ‘Might I use one of your thralls to send a message?’ he asked Ivar. ‘One familiar with this city, who can find Caragh’s brothers?’
‘You could accompany the thrall to locate her brothers,’ Ivar suggested to Styr.
In other words, give the man time alone with Caragh.
‘What sort of protector would I be, if I did that?’ he demanded.
The Norseman shrugged, as if unconcerned. ‘She knows I will not harm her. Don’t you, kjære?’
‘I have known you for only an hour,’ she countered. ‘It is too soon to tell.’
Ivar appeared amused by her response. ‘So be it, then. I have yet to prove myself to you.’ The look in his eyes spoke of a man eager to do so.
‘Styr will remain as my guard, while you send your man to the harbour at Dubh Linn,’ she said.
After Ivar summoned a thrall to send the message, she described the appearance of her brothers. ‘I promised to meet them at nightfall,’ she said. ‘Please hurry and bid them come here.’
To Ivar, she added, ‘Might we share your house this night for shelter?’
‘I would welcome your presence.’ With that, Ivar lifted her palm to his mouth, brushing a kiss over her skin.
Styr stood, unable to bear the sight of them a moment longer.
A warmth flooded over Caragh’s face at Ivar’s mouth upon her skin. The man was older, but he had a charisma about him that drew her in. His face bore a few scars, yet they seemed to add to his features instead of making him seem a threat.
Caragh glanced over at Styr, sensing that his mind was elsewhere. He eyed the doorway where the thrall had departed, as if he wanted nothing more than to leave her here. His wife was still missing, and there was no way of knowing whether or not she’d drowned.
She voiced a silent prayer that Elena was alive. Not only for the sake of her brother, but also for Styr. In his posture she saw the tension and worry, a man haunted by a fate beyond his control.
While Ivar went to speak with one of his slaves, she walked quietly towards him, for the need to ease his pain could not be denied. ‘There is still hope for Elena. After we find Brendan, we’ll journey along the coast. I’ll do all I can to help you.’
Styr’s mood was unreadable, his silence widening the invisible distance. She reached out to touch his arm, hoping to reassure him. His hand covered hers, tightening over her fingers. ‘Your brother must answer for what he did.’
She didn’t know what to say. His face might as well have been cast from iron, for there was no mercy in his countenance. ‘What he did was wrong, yes. But will you not forgive him for my sake?’
His masked emotions curled into a dark look. ‘I’m not a man who knows how to forgive. It’s not in my nature.’
A thousand pleas rose to her lips, but she doubted if he would listen. Instead, she went to stand directly before him. His hand was still covering hers, so she kept it and took his other hand in hers. Warm palms enveloped her hands, and she lifted her gaze to his, silently willing him to relent.
But instead of softening his vengeance, her touch had an entirely different effect upon him.
To her shock, Styr pulled her close. His breath warmed her ear. ‘Don’t trust the Norseman, Caragh. He may seem as if he’s being kind, but he wants you in his bed.’
The words seemed to rush over her skin, pouring forbidden images into her mind. An unexpected vision sprang into her mind, of what it would have been like to lie with a Norseman like Styr.
He would likely take whatever he wanted, his hot skin fused upon hers. His mouth would plunder, his hands conquering her bare skin. At the very thought, an ache resonated between her legs, her breasts growing sensitive against the red garment.
He’s not for you and never will be.
His gaze lingered upon her for a moment longer, as if he could read her thoughts. Caragh didn’t realise she was holding her breath until he left her side to join Ivar.
The Norseman had brought out a set of dice, carved from bone. Although she’d watched men play before, there was an undercurrent between these men, one she didn’t understand.
After several tosses of the dice, Styr was winning. Slowly, the pile of coins beside him grew, and Ivar’s mood darkened. Caragh moved closer, and her presence seemed to intensify the game.
‘Would you like to increase the odds?’ Ivar asked, his gaze never moving