Michelle Willingham - Forbidden Nights With A Viking

It was a truth he hadn’t wanted to face.

The reality of her words made any other conversation impossible. He guided her back to the ringfort and found that Onund had brought their supplies to shore, anchoring the ship off the coast.

She made excuses about having to begin preparing a meal, But he caught her hand. ‘This isn’t finished, Caragh.’

She shook her head. ‘No. But I don’t know what to say to you or what to feel right now.’

He let her go, and once she’d disappeared into her own house, her brothers approached. Neither appeared pleased to see him. While Ronan kept a short distance away, eyeing Styr’s ship and the few men he’d brought with him, Terence made no effort to disguise his rage. He strode towards Styr, and when he reached him, he swung his fists.

Styr caught the man’s hand before it could strike his jaw, holding it in place. ‘I didn’t come to fight.’

‘That’s good, Lochlannach . It means I can kill you quicker.’ Terence followed up with his other fist, clipping Styr across the opposite jaw.

Pain radiated through him, but he smiled at the man, no longer caring that this was Caragh’s brother. ‘You won’t succeed.’ If the man wanted a fight, he welcomed the chance to release his frustration and anger.

‘You made her cry,’ her brother accused. ‘And now you dare to show your face again?’

‘I’m going to wed her. You’d best get used to my face.’ He circled the man, knowing that Terence wouldn’t fight fair. Not when it came to guarding his sister.

‘And what does your wife have to say about that?’ he taunted. Before Styr could respond, he added, ‘Brendan told us. Were you ever going to tell Caragh?’

‘She knew, from the beginning. And Elena is my wife no longer.’

Terence threw another punch that struck Styr in the ribs. He grunted against the pain and blocked another blow.

‘You’re nothing but a bastard who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as Caragh,’ he taunted. ‘She should have left you chained to rot.’

Without warning, the man unsheathed a blade, darting towards Styr. He saw a piece of driftwood lying nearby, and when Terence lunged, he dodged the strike and reached for the wood, using it to block the man.

In one swift motion, he swung the wood towards Terence’s head, intending to knock the man unconscious. But at the last second, he heard Caragh cry out, and he halted the motion.

She came running from her home, and the distraction rewarded him with a slice against his arm.

‘Terence, don’t!’ Caragh exclaimed, rushing forwards. Though his arm bled freely, Styr didn’t think the wound was too deep. He was amused when Caragh drew her hand into a fist and punched her brother in the shoulder before she came to his side. ‘That’s enough. Leave him alone.’

Terence sent them both a dark look, but relented.

‘Why were you fighting?’ she demanded, urging Styr to sit so she could tend the wound.

It occurred to him that he could take advantage of the minor cut, especially if it meant she would tend him. ‘He was angry at me for hurting you. And he thought I’d lied to you about Elena.’

Caragh found a cloth and dipped it in water, washing the blood away. She held it in place, informing Terence, ‘You will not harm him. Whatever comes is between the two of us. Not you.’

The desire for murder burned in Terence’s eyes. To Styr, he ordered, ‘You don’t hurt her again. If she cries one tear because of you, I’ll—’

‘Go and eat,’ Caragh interrupted. ‘Both of you. I’ll join you soon.’

‘He’s not eating with us,’ Terence insisted. ‘Let him dine on seaweed and whatever he can find crawling on the bottom of the sea.’

Styr said nothing, knowing that he’d have done the same for his own sisters.

‘Go,’ she repeated.

Her older brother Ronan started to guide Terence away, and he added, ‘We’ll expect you to join us soon.’ The unspoken words were: Or we’ll come and fetch you .

‘I’ll come when I want to. Not before.’ She crossed her arms, glaring at them.

‘You deserve better than a man like him,’ Terence said.

‘I deserve the right to choose.’ Waving them on, Caragh stood firm on her decision. She waited until they’d gone, before turning back to Styr. ‘Will you be all right?’

He didn’t answer at first. ‘It might grow poisoned from the blade.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a scratch.’

‘And what if it gets worse?’ he prompted. ‘What if I get a fever and you have to stay all night at my bedside?’

‘I could cut it off and save myself the trouble,’ she remarked drily. ‘See, it’s stopped bleeding already.’

This wasn’t at all working the way he wanted to. ‘I’d like it if you stayed all night at my side. The way you did a few weeks ago.’

Her face flushed. ‘Styr, I can’t.’

‘Then you’ll return to your brothers, feed them, tuck them into their beds at night, and never marry. Is that it?’

‘There’s no harm in taking care of my family.’

‘They’re grown men. They should marry and have their own families,’ he said. Though she’d cared for them over the course of the past year, he wanted her to break free of them.

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.

‘I have a meal prepared,’ she answered. ‘It’s enough.’

‘Bring some of the food in a basket,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you out on the water, and we’ll sail and eat.’

She cast a reluctant glance towards the hut. ‘How do I know you’ll bring me back?’

‘My men are here,’ he pointed out. ‘I’m not about to abandon them.’ When she didn’t answer, he added, ‘And you’ll see the gifts I brought for you.’

In her eyes, he saw the slight interest, and he took her hand, leading her along the shore. ‘Will you come?’

Caragh wasn’t certain why she’d decided to sail away with Styr, but the idea of leaving everything behind and feeling the wind in her face was suddenly appealing. She closed her eyes, breathing in the salty air while the sun warmed her face. When she opened them, she saw Styr’s taut muscles flexing as he fought the power of the wind.

He caught her watching him, and his gaze turned heated. As if there was no one else in the world but the two of them.

He’d never openly pursued her, and it took a strong effort to guard her heart. For so long, Elena had been between them. And now, he had ended that path, choosing Caragh instead.

What if he found her wanting? The lack of a child had torn apart his first marriage, and she feared that it might happen again. She’d been honest with him; she did want a baby. She wanted to feel the warmth of an infant against her breast, touching the small feet and curled fists. It might not happen if she wed him. And if it did not, would it come between them?

‘Keep looking at me like that, søtnos , and I’ll never take you back again.’

She braved a smile, and he tied off the ropes, coming to sit before her. ‘Do you want to see the gifts I’ve brought?’

‘You didn’t need to bring me anything,’ she began, though it was difficult to push back her curiosity.

Styr reached into the bag and showed her a length of crimson silk. She touched it, and marvelled at the softness of the cloth. ‘I’ve never felt anything like this before.’

‘You’ll sew a gown from it. And wear it on the day we wed.’

She brought it to her cheek, a rise of nerves gathering in her stomach at the thought. Though she wanted to wed him, a thousand doubts and fears made her nervous.

‘We should sell it,’ she suggested. ‘The harvest might fail, and—’

‘It won’t.’ He folded up the cloth and set it aside. ‘Caragh, there’s nothing wrong with accepting gifts of value.’