Forbidden Nights With A Viking. Michelle WillinghamЧитать онлайн книгу.
to move through the marketplace. But her wicked mind conjured up the dream of walking at his side, his hand resting upon her waist.
She closed her eyes against the forbidden vision, blurting out something to break the silence between them. ‘Have you ever seen so many things in all your life? Those bracelets, and the cloth…I’ve never imagined anything so beautiful.’
‘It’s silk,’ Styr told her. ‘Brought over from the East.’ He described the caravans from across the seas and lands where the sand stretched as far as the eye could see. Of a burning hot sun, and animals so strange, they had a single hump on their backs.
She sensed the longing in his voice and asked, ‘Have you seen them for yourself?’ The exotic place sounded like a world away from anything she’d ever known.
‘No. Elena never wanted to travel.’ His hand dropped away from her shoulders, and she caught the tension in his voice, warning her not to ask.
Styr guided her towards another merchant who was selling meat pies, surprising her when he added, ‘When I was younger, I went south with my father to The kingdom of the Visigoths. The closer you sail to the Mediterranean, the warmer the sun is. The skin of the people is darker, and their winter is very short.’
It was the most she’d ever heard him speak, and the tone of his voice spoke of a man who dreamed of travelling to distant lands.
‘You love the sea, don’t you?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘When I was a boy, I wanted to cross the largest sea. But my mother warned that if I went too far, I would be taken by Jörmungand, the serpent of Midgard.’
‘Devoured alive.’ She hid a smile, asking, ‘Do you still believe it?’
He shrugged, but she could see the superstition in his eyes. ‘There are many things on the sea that no man can understand. I have seen fish so large, their tails are the size of my home.’
‘I would like to see that. But only if I had a man like you to slay The serpent,’ she admitted. A tingle of nerves caught up in her stomach when she met his gaze. The tension had returned, and she couldn’t read the thoughts on his face.
She shouldn’t have confessed it to him. Because truthfully, the only reason she would consider journeying across the sea was if he were with her. her thoughts were betraying her, leading her down a path she could not travel. It embarrassed her to know that he’d seen it in her eyes.
God above, if she could simply close off her heart, she would. But every time she looked into his dark eyes, she saw the futility of her feelings. The chains of unwanted attraction had utterly bound up her common sense. With difficulty, she shored up the brittle defences around her heart.
She eyed the man selling meat pies and remarked to Styr, ‘I’ve never seen so much food. How can this be with the drought?’
He nodded towards the ships in the distance. ‘There are many who come to Dubh Linn to trade. If a man has silver, he can buy what he needs.’
Caragh touched the pouch of coins Terence had given her, grateful for her brother’s gift. Impulsively, she broke away from Styr, asking the merchant, ‘How much do you think your pies are worth?’
She offered her brightest smile, desperately needing a way to distance herself from Styr. Although they had broken their fast that morn, she knew the meagre food wasn’t enough for a warrior the size of Styr.
‘Ten pieces of silver,’ the merchant proclaimed, and Caragh laughed at him.
‘What kind of a fool do you think I am?’
‘A hungry one?’ he returned.
‘We’ve no time for this,’ Styr said, though she caught the way his eyes lingered upon the food. He was hungry, whether or not he would admit it.
Caragh bade him to wait, bargaining with the pie man. ‘Perhaps I would buy two pies for one piece of silver.’
The merchant shook his head. ‘Not enough.’
Disappointed, she was about to ask him about Elena and Brendan, only to find herself none-too-gently escorted away by Styr. ‘But what if he knows about—?’ she started to say, before he gripped her hand tightly.
‘Wait,’ he commanded. It took no longer than a few seconds before the merchant caught up to them, holding two pies.
‘Your silver?’ he asked.
Styr paid the man one coin and handed Caragh both pies. She had no chance to ask any questions, before the man took the rest of his pies and disappeared among the people.
‘You don’t think he knew anything about your wife?’
Styr shook his head. ‘He would have said anything he thought we wanted to hear.’
Caragh started to give him one of the pies, but he refused. ‘You’re hungry,’ she insisted. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’
‘Not as hungry as you.’
But Caragh broke off a piece of the steaming pie, touching it to his mouth. ‘I will enjoy mine more, if I know that you aren’t hungry.’
He accepted the bite of food and finally took the pie. Caragh found a stack of wine barrels on the other side of the square and asked for a moment to sit down.
Her shoes were so worn, she could feel the rocky soil beneath her soles. It wouldn’t take long to wear holes through the weak leather, and already she felt the swelling of blisters.
But the rest made it easier to endure. Styr leaned beside one of the wine barrels, while she finished as much as she could. When her stomach could hold no more, she gave the rest to him.
‘Don’t you want to save it for later?’
She shook her head. ‘I know the past few days were hard on both of us. And you need your strength.’ Her gaze slid over to his muscled arms, and his expression shifted, as if she’d physically touched him. Though he said nothing, his eyes passed over her. And this time, his hunger had nothing to do with food.
Her body was well aware of the direction of his thoughts, though he had spoken not a word. Against her will, a shimmer of interest echoed in her body. She imagined his hands upon her, his forbidden touch shattering every last defence.
God help them both.
‘Th-thank you for letting me see the market,’ she said, sliding down from the barrel. ‘We should go back and find out what we can about Elena and Brendan.’
Styr inclined his head, and they returned to the marketplace, asking several other merchants about what they had seen. None had any information, but they suggested asking another man whose stall was closest to the slave market.
Strangely, Caragh didn’t recognise the man’s wares. She stared at the selection of ivory and polished wood, along with vials of oil.
‘We’re not stopping here,’ Styr said, trying to move her on. But her curiosity was heightened. The man’s eyes lit up when he saw the two of them. He was one of the Norsemen, shorter than Styr, but barrel-chested.
‘For you, lady.’ He offered her a tiny vial, contained in wood. ‘Try it with your lover.’
Her cheeks went crimson, and she shook her head. ‘But he’s not my—’
‘We’re leaving,’ Styr repeated, gripping her hand.
The merchant grinned at him and spoke words in his language. Styr argued back, shaking his head in refusal. Whatever it was the merchant wanted him to buy, Styr was having none of it.
‘But what is he selling?’ she asked. ‘I don’t recognise his wares.’
‘Your brothers wouldn’t want you here,’ he said.
His declaration only heightened her interest. She ignored his wishes and moved in closer. Styr was trying to hide something,