Forbidden Nights With A Viking. Michelle WillinghamЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘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.