LITMIR.BIZ

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of his tongue suckling her while her fingers moved upon her wetness was too much. She bucked her hips, gripping his head as a frenzied storm of shaking hot pleasure boiled through her body, making her so wet, she couldn’t stop herself from plunging two fingers inside. The rhythm of release shattered her apart, and she reached for him, closing her hand over his silken erection. He was hot and moist as her thumb brushed the tip of him. It took only a few strokes of her hand before he let out a harsh breath and spilled his own seed.

      He murmured words in his own language, words that sounded like a blend of an apology and a curse.

      ‘Put on your gown and leave this tent. Now,’ he commanded.

      ‘Are you certain—?’

      ‘If you don’t go right now, I’m going to break every vow I ever made.’

      With shaking hands, she pulled the gown over her nude body, her breasts sensitised against the fabric. Between her legs, she still longed for him, but she’d pushed him too far. For he’d nearly done what she’d wanted.

      She left his tent, tiptoeing outside into the night. The coals of the fire glowed red, while flames licked the banked pile of wood.

      His revelation, that Elena hadn’t liked to touch him, had revealed a side to their marriage she didn’t understand.

      But more, he’d offered her a hope she’d never dared to imagine. He would see to it that Elena was safe. But afterwards…it might change.

      He hadn’t turned her away tonight, and he’d given her a pleasure she’d never dreamed of. The only way it could have been better would be if he’d been inside her.

      The unexpected kiss upon her breast, the feeling of his tongue swirling over the nipple, had been such a shock, she could only imagine what it would be like to share his bed.

      As she curled up within her own sleeping space, her body was so warm, she hardly needed a coverlet.

      But fear and worry slid over her sense of honour. Styr had made her no promises. Everything depended upon Elena and what she would say.

      Though Caragh wanted to believe that Styr would abandon the marriage and stay with her, she didn’t know what would happen. He’d never spoken of his own feelings. If he held any at all.

      Tears filled up her eyes, as she forced them to close. Tomorrow, their fates would be drawn together. Or irrevocably severed.

      Styr awoke at dawn, surprised that he’d slept as late as he had. It was as if all the exhaustion of the past few weeks had caught up with him. Last night, he’d dreamed nothing at all, finding a peace.

      But in the morning, he sensed the phantom fragrance of Caragh, as if she were still here.

      He never should have bent his head to her breast, but he’d been unable to stop himself. She’d been so close, almost agonised in her need. And when his touch had brought her such a violent release, he’d revelled in it. If he could have spent the rest of the night watching her come apart, he would have savoured every moment.

      Just the memory of last night brought him a physical ache, and he adjusted his erection within his hose, donning a padded tunic and chainmail to hide what he could. He crossed the sleeping camp, staring at the hills and wondering if he would find Elena this day.

      When he reached Caragh’s tent, he opened the flap and ducked inside. She was still asleep, her hand half-open as if waiting for him to hold it. Instead, he reached into his pouch and withdrew the ivory comb. He laid it in Caragh’s palm, and the moment he did, she awakened.

      Her face flushed, as if in memory of last night. When her hand curled over the comb, she asked, ‘What is this?’

      ‘A gift for you.’

      She turned it over, examining the ivory. ‘It has a woman’s face upon it.’

      ‘The goddess Freya,’ he explained.

      Her violet eyes met his, a sadness descending over her mood. ‘This was meant for her, wasn’t it?’

      He made no denial. ‘I want you to have it.’

      She sat up, and her gown slipped, baring one shoulder to him. At the sight of her skin, desire welled up once again. But the look on her face spoke of a woman who held regrets.

      ‘I don’t want a gift to remember you by,’ she admitted. ‘I’d rather have you.’ With her knees drawn beneath her, she looked like an innocent girl. ‘You’re going to find her today, I know it.’

      He nodded. ‘I need to talk with her.’

      ‘I want to believe that we can be together,’ she said. ‘That I can love you.’

      Her words held an emotion he’d never guessed, and he moved closer, needing to touch her. But she shied away, turning her face. ‘I’m afraid, Styr. You’ve been with her for so long. When you see her again—’

      He cut her off, embracing her. ‘Don’t.’ At this moment, he couldn’t say what would happen. But he let his actions speak for him, drawing her against him. ‘Wait for me here while we search. And when I return to you, we’ll go back to Gall Tír. We’ll start over.’ He took the comb from her and drew it through her long brown hair. The ivory contrasted against the dark strands, and when he glimpsed the carving of Freya, he believed there was a reason why he’d never conceived a child with Elena. It was never destined to be.

      Caragh took the comb from his hand and returned it to him. ‘Give her the comb, the way you intended to. And don’t return to me until you are free.’

      The solemnity on her face proclaimed her resolve. ‘My men will guard you.’

      But Caragh shook her head. ‘No. My brothers are waiting for me. I’ll return home with them.’

      Styr frowned, for he’d not bothered to look out from the shore. He left her tent, shielding his eyes against the sun. Just as she’d predicted, a small fishing boat lay anchored a short distance away.

      ‘I knew they wouldn’t let me go,’ she admitted from behind him. ‘My brothers are too protective. And I suppose they were right to come. It’s probably best that I don’t meet your wife.’ She drew a brat over her head and shoulders, wrapping the wool around her against the chill.

      He hadn’t thought of it, but likely it would be terrible if Elena and Caragh shared the same vessel for travelling. Better if he gave command of his ship to Ragnar and let him take Elena and his men home again. Or anywhere else they wanted to travel. Then he could return with Caragh and her brothers.

      ‘I’m going to begin searching for them,’ he said. ‘Stay here, and don’t leave until I return.’

      She nodded, and at the sight of her worry, he bent and kissed her cheek. ‘It will be all right. I promise you.’

      But as he took his leave of her, a sense of dread filled him at the thought of what he must say to Elena.

      ‘Let go of me,’ Caragh demanded.

      Onund had gripped her by the arm, holding her fast. ‘You are commanded to stay here until he returns. You may not follow them.’ His expression was like granite, his bearded face shielding any trace of sympathy.

      His imperious attitude darkened her mood, and she tried to pry his hand away. ‘I won’t interfere. They won’t even know I’m there.’ She craned her neck to meet his eyes, hoping he would understand. ‘I just want to see them together.’

      If she could see the look in Styr’s eyes when he saw his wife for the first time, she would have the answer she needed. She would know.

      Onund loosened his grip upon her. He stared at her as if trying to discern her purpose. ‘I saw him watching you. And I saw him go to your tent this morn.’

      She shielded her feelings from him. ‘He did nothing to dishonour his marriage.’ Though she wondered if that were true. In the end, he’d hungered for

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