Kitabı oku: «Forbidden Nights With A Viking», sayfa 4

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.

‘Your brother took Elena. And he will suffer for it.’

She took a breath, her expression turning serious. ‘Promise me, you won’t kill Brendan. He’s just a boy.’

Styr stepped back, releasing her. ‘If she is unharmed, then I might let him go. But if she has endured any pain at his hands, I will make no such vow.’ When he reached the door, he turned back. ‘Nor will I spare him, if you don’t remove these chains.’

He stepped outside, not waiting for her answer. The day was a clouded grey, and rain was likely. Still, he would not delay any longer. If he could have left now, he would have. He hated being at the mercy of someone else, locked up in chains that prevented him from going after Elena.

And worse, having no supplies to take along. Without his ship, he had none of his wealth, nothing save the clothes on his back and the battleaxe that had been taken from him.

After several minutes, the door opened. He turned and saw Caragh approaching with two baskets in each hand. She wore a gown dyed a rich blue. Though it was a simple long-sleeved garment, the colour contrasted against her dark hair, bringing out the violet-blue of her eyes.

An uneasiness slipped over him, for she appeared beautiful. Styr gave her a nod, revealing nothing of the wayward thoughts inside him.

‘That gown is too fine for fishing,’ he said. ‘You should choose another.’

She shrugged. ‘It’s the only other gown I have.’ A hint of sadness passed over her face as she added, ‘I should have given it to my brothers to be sold.’

Without explaining herself, she led him further down the beach until he saw the small boat anchored a short distance out. The mainsail was tied up, but the vessel appeared to be intact.

‘If you don’t free me from the manacles, you’ll have to do all the work,’ he pointed out. ‘I won’t be able to help you.’

She sent him a sidelong glance as if she hadn’t thought of that. But in the end, she shook her head. ‘I’ll manage.’

Styr stepped into the water and turned his back to her. ‘Climb on my back, and you won’t have to get wet again.’

A look of startled surprise crossed her face. ‘That’s kind of you.’

She ducked beneath his chained arms, wrapping her arms around his neck with her legs around his waist as he walked from the shore to the boat. Though it was awkward with his chained manacles, he was aware of how light her body was. She was too thin.

He would take her out to find more fish today, no matter how long it took. No woman should ever face starvation, and he was determined to see her enjoy a true meal this night.

Styr climbed back to the stern, taking command of the rudder while she drew up the anchor. They sat beside one another, each with an oar, as they rowed out to sea. Though he had enough slack in the chains to move his arms, it was difficult for him to row with his hands behind him. He changed his position on the bench to face backwards, half-crouching as he pulled the oars behind him. Though it was awkward, Caragh lacked the energy and knowledge to manage it alone.

Silence descended between them, and as the land grew more distant, Styr ordered her to unbind the mainsail. He directed her how to tie it down, gathering the wind, and her hair streamed past her face as she obeyed.

His thoughts turned dangerous as he saw the curve of her body and her slender hips. she was so unlike Elena. While his wife had a muscular, toned body, Caragh’s was delicate.

But she did possess curves where he shouldn’t be looking at all, curves that seemed impossible, from her thinness.

He drew his thoughts back to Elena, hoping she was all right. The urge to find his wife was strong, along with the frustration at being unable to pursue them. The wind blew against his face, the familiar freedom easing his dark mood. The vessel had picked up speed, and he directed Caragh on how to adjust the sail. But even after she’d obeyed him, he could see the fear in her eyes.

‘You don’t like the water?’ he questioned.

She shook her head. ‘My father drowned last winter. This boat came back to the shore, but he was gone.’ She rubbed her arms as if to ward off a chill. ‘My brothers believe it’s cursed.’

‘I’ve been on boats all my life,’ he said. ‘You’ve nothing to fear.’

Though Caragh nodded, he could see that she didn’t believe it. She moved closer to him, sitting a few feet away while the boat continued south. ‘Why did you come to Éireann?’

The reasons were too many to name. To save his marriage. To escape the conflict surrounding his brother’s leadership as jarl. And the truest reason of them all—to journey across the sea to foreign lands, experiencing a way of life different from his own.

He met her gaze and shrugged, unwilling to say the reasons. As a distraction, he ordered her to cast the weighted net over the side of the boat, letting it drag along the bottom while the boat continued to sail.

‘You don’t like to share anything about yourself, do you?’

Her pointed question tightened his frustration. ‘Why should I? This isn’t a journey among friends. I’m helping you get food because I’ll need it when I search for my wife and kinsmen.’

Caragh studied him. ‘You’re right. This is a trip of necessity. And I don’t suppose a Lochlannach like yourself would ever be a friend to someone like me.’

Her posture had stiffened, and he knew he’d offended her. But he had to draw a clear line between them, to ensure that she saw him for what he was—an enemy.

‘Pull up the net,’ he commanded. She reached for it, but her thin arms had difficulty pulling the heavy net. She strained against it, using her body weight, but it did little good at all.

‘I’m beginning to think I should have unchained you,’ she mused.

Styr balanced himself and came close. With his back to hers, he said, ‘Hook your arms around mine, and then grasp the net.’

She hesitated. ‘What are you planning to do? Cast me overboard?’

‘If I’d wanted to kill you, I could have done it long before now,’ he reminded her. ‘I’m going to help you bring in the net.’

With his legs spread out for balance, he waited until she drew her arms within his. Then as she grasped the net again, he leaned back, pulling her body off her feet as she held on. Despite herself, she began to laugh. ‘Well, that’s one way to catch fish, I suppose.’

As he’d hoped, she was then able to pull the net back into the boat. There were only small fish within the net, but he found a few oysters as well, which Caragh saved.

Over the next hour, he instructed her on baiting the hooks and setting the fishing lines. The activity seemed to take her mind off her fear, especially when they caught a few small fish. But the longer he watched her, the more his chains irritated him. He wanted to control the sails, to command the sea and catch the fish. Standing around in chains only simmered his resentment more.

After she let down the fishing line, Caragh tucked a strand of hair over one ear, suddenly appearing nervous around him. ‘Will we catch any more, do you think?’

He shrugged and stared at the horizon.

She sent him a look and then deepened her voice, as if mimicking him. ‘You couldn’t catch a minnow, Caragh, as weak as you are.’

In her own voice, she continued the singular conversation. ‘I know that, but I am trying.’

‘Not enough,’ she countered, pretending to be him. ‘And if you don’t catch a fish, I’ll toss your useless body overboard and sail away.’

He stared at her in disbelief of what she was doing. ‘You’re mad,’ he muttered.

‘And you’re in a foul mood,’ she shot back.

‘Because you’ve chained me. Do you think I should be happy about this? Do you think I should be talking with you about fishing and the weather? I’m still your prisoner because you won’t trust me.’

‘I have no reason at all to trust a man who wants to kill my brother,’ she countered.

‘I might not kill him.’

‘Might not? If anything at all happened to Elena, he’ll take the blame for it.’

‘And it would be well deserved.’ He knew Caragh wanted to protect the boy, but seven and ten was old enough to understand the consequences. ‘He can’t hide behind your skirts for what he did.’

She glared at him. ‘And now you understand why I’m reluctant to release your chains. The moment I do, you’ll go after Brendan.’

‘He will answer for what he did, Caragh.’

She stared out at the calm waters of the sea, dismay lined upon her face. ‘Then I have no choice but to come with you. For nothing I say will change your mind.’

‘I am a man of actions, not words.’

‘I’m aware of that.’ Imitating his voice again, she added, ‘Warriors don’t talk, Caragh. They kill people. And I’m quite good at killing things.’

‘Good at killing things who talk too much.’ But there was a glint of humour in his eyes. The line was starting to pull, and he went to stand against her. His back pressed against her own, to lend his strength.

Caragh linked her arms with his and gripped the fishing line, leaning back. ‘Something is biting.’

Styr pulled hard, helping her with the fish. The line moved violently and Caragh gasped as it cut into her palm.

‘Don’t let the line go,’ he commanded. ‘Keep a steady pressure upon it.’

He continued pulling, and Caragh began talking again, encouraging him to help her. At last, she guided the line into his hands and used a hand net to bring the fish into the boat. It was a large flounder, the length of her arm.

At the sight of the fish, she let out a cry of exultation. ‘We did it! Styr, we have food!’ She was laughing and crying at the same time. Her joy was so great that she threw her arms around his shoulders, embracing him hard.

He stood motionless, startled by her. The reckless gesture was something Elena never would have done, and he didn’t know how to respond.

But his body knew. Though the embrace was brief, he’d felt the touch of her breasts against him, her hips pressing close. The spontaneous affection meant nothing, but it was as if she’d awakened a part of his spirit that had been shielded for a long time. It was rare that anyone had touched him in such a way, and he was so taken aback, he returned to his seat at the rudder.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s just that I’ve never caught a fish this large before.’ Her face was flushed with excitement as she stored the fish in a corner of the boat.

Styr grunted a response, and ordered her to set out another line. She did, and while she worked, her joy spread over her face. The sunlight gleamed upon her brown hair, and when she looked back at him, her smile slid beneath his defences, diminishing his dark mood.

He turned his gaze back to the sea, a sense of guilt permeating his conscience. It had been a long time since any woman had smiled at him. Especially when he’d done so little to deserve it.

‘Are you still afraid of the sea?’ he asked.

Caragh shook her head, her smile remaining serene. ‘I suppose it’s not so terrible. The weather was bad that day, and my father never should have gone out.’ Her gaze drifted towards the water, and she let out a sigh. ‘I miss him terribly, and it hurts to think of losing him.’

She glanced back at him and sent him an apologetic smile. ‘I shouldn’t have touched you, I know. It was too impulsive of me.’

He said nothing, half-afraid she would see how it had affected him. If he weren’t bound to Elena, he might have enjoyed the embrace, pulling her closer. But honour demanded that he leave this woman alone, that he lock away any attraction he might feel.

She knelt down on the boat, the blue dress damp from the sea. ‘This fish means life,’ she admitted. ‘It may seem like nothing to you…but it’s everything to me.’

‘It’s enough to last us the journey, if we preserve it.’ He needed the reminder of his purpose, and she nodded.

‘We’ll find them, Styr. And perhaps, when you return, we can make peace between our people, even after all that’s happened.’

‘No,’ he responded. He couldn’t remain here, not so close to Caragh. The contrast between this woman and his wife was dangerous, for although he’d done nothing wrong, he sensed that staying near her would be unwise. ‘We’ll settle elsewhere.’

Her expression dimmed, and she turned her attention back to the fishing lines.

They caught five more fish before returning to shore. Caragh was exhausted, but her spirits had never been more joyous. There was food, such as she’d never seen in months. Not only enough for herself, but also enough to share with the others. The sun had drifted lower in the sky, and Styr shadowed her as she brought the largest flounder back to her home. Though she doubted if anyone would try to steal the fish, she also knew that many had become desperate—particularly Kelan. She hoped to ease their hunger by gifting them with some of the extra fish they had caught.

One by one, she visited the other families, and seeing their elation at the food lifted her mood even higher. Iona’s husband Gearoid gave her a small keg of mead in thanks. Though she protested, he refused to take no as an answer, and balanced it on his shoulder as he struggled to bring it to her home. Styr was waiting by the fire, and when the old man saw him there, he blinked.

‘Are ye well enough, Caragh?’ Though he kept his tone calm, she didn’t miss the worry in his eyes. None of them had agreed with her decision to chain Styr; they’d wanted him dead.

‘I am fine. And were it not for this Lochlannach, we’d still be hungry this night.’

Gearoid didn’t seem comfortable leaving her, but Caragh opened the door and walked out with him.

‘He hasn’t done anything to harm me,’ she reassured him. ‘I promise you, I am safe.’

It was stretching the truth, but she didn’t want the others to be afraid. ‘Go back to Iona and enjoy the fish,’ she urged.

‘If you have need of us, you have only to ask,’ he said. With a squeeze of her hand, he hobbled back to his wife.

After he’d gone, Caragh returned and set to work cleaning the fish as best she could. It was work she didn’t mind at all, and she carefully saved the scraps, which could be used for stews or soups. Her joy was so great, that when she set several chunks of fish over the hearth to bake, she returned to her father’s work space.

She stood in the darkened space, breathing in the ashen scent of the forge. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine her father’s presence and his hearty laugh.

Am I making a mistake, Father? she wondered. Do I dare take the risk? She reached for an awl and her father’s hammer, wondering what to do. Styr had proven himself this day, taking her out to find fish. They’d caught enough to survive a little longer…or to travel in the search for Brendan.

In her heart, she knew the Viking had saved her life. And for that, he deserved his freedom.

Don’t let him hurt Brendan, she prayed inwardly. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the hammer and awl, returning to her hut.

Styr was seated near the fire when she returned, and as soon as he spied the hammer and awl, his eyes lit up.

‘I owe you my thanks,’ Caragh said, ‘for helping me to find fish today. And in return, I will keep my promise to remove the chains.’ She watched him, meeting his eyes with her own. ‘I ask only that you grant me my brother’s life in return. Show him mercy.’

Styr gave her no answer, but she could only pray that he would spare Brendan. Crossing behind him, she reached for his wrists. Upon his skin, she saw dried blood and heavy bruises. Clearly he’d tried to free himself and had suffered in the process.

She hammered at the pin that bound the manacles closed until his first hand was free. Then the second.

Styr drew his hands in front of him, flexing his wrists, as he breathed with relief. ‘Thank you.’

Having him unchained made her suddenly more aware of his presence. Though she didn’t believe he would harm her, she couldn’t stop the prickle of uneasiness. She busied herself with cooking the fish, remarking, ‘I’m surprised you haven’t left yet.’

‘As I told you, I’m taking your father’s boat in the morning,’ he said. ‘And you’re coming with me.’

She made no refusal, for she wanted to protect Brendan. ‘I won’t go as your hostage.’

His gaze turned harsh, but his eyes seemed to warn her that he would use her in any manner necessary.

Caragh’s hands trembled as she gave him his portion of fish. Fool, she cursed herself. This man wasn’t safe. He might have helped her to get food, but he could not be trusted.

But she forgot about her uncertainties, the moment she tasted the delicate white fish. ‘Oh heaven,’ she breathed, eating the first piece so fast, she nearly choked on it. The second piece disappeared nearly as fast, and she cooked more portions, knowing that Styr was as hungry as she was. To pace herself, she poured each of them a cup of mead, and the sweet, honeyed taste was delicious. Even though she knew it was unwise to drink it quickly, she couldn’t stop herself.

‘Slow down,’ Styr ordered. ‘Or you’ll make yourself sick.’

She did, concentrating on the drink instead. It made her head feel lighter, and a pleasant airiness seemed to surround her. ‘Did you get enough to eat?’

He nodded, leaning back beside the fire. ‘If you salt the remaining fish, we can preserve it for a few days.’

She nodded her agreement and went to cut the remaining fish into pieces the size of her hand, salting them heavily and covering them. As she worked, a dizziness made her unsteady on her feet. The room seemed to be a faraway place, but she took another sip of mead.

When she had finished preserving the fish, she washed her hands and walked unsteadily towards the fire.

‘How many cups of mead have you had?’ Styr asked, frowning.

‘Two. Perhaps three,’ she answered.

‘You shouldn’t have anything else to drink,’ he said, taking the cup from her. ‘You’ve already had too much.’

A lazy smile curved over her. ‘It tasted so good.’ When he drank the rest of her mead, her gaze settled upon his mouth. My, but he did have a wonderful mouth. So firm and fierce. It was a shame that a man like this was already wed. It would be interesting to kiss him.