Her warm breath sent a ripple of uneasiness through him. ‘I can’t make that promise.’ He didn’t care that Brendan was hardly more than a young man. Elena had done nothing wrong, and if she was hurt, he would avenge every harm done to her. Without mercy.
Caragh’s fingers tightened upon his shoulder, her own tension evident. ‘Then I will go with you, if for no other reason than to protect him.’
‘Go with your brothers,’ he bade her again, and climbed out of the boat, stepping on to the docks.
Caragh hung back while Styr spoke to the Norsemen nearby, presumably asking questions about his ship. Meanwhile, she shielded her eyes against the sun and looked for a sign of Styr’s ship. As her gaze drifted past several Norse boats, she realised how futile it was. Most of them looked alike, and she couldn’t tell one from the next.
‘Do you think Brendan is here?’ Terence came up beside her, his expression grim.
‘I don’t know.’ She shuddered, and her brother removed his cloak, handing it to her. ‘We’d have seen a Norse ship along the coast, if he’d stopped somewhere else, wouldn’t we?’
Terence shrugged. ‘I don’t trust that Loch lannach, Caragh. I don’t care what Ronan thinks—you shouldn’t be alone with him. What if he tries to force himself on you?’
‘He won’t harm me,’ she said. ‘That, I can promise you.’
There was no danger at all from Styr, because of his unyielding loyalty to his wife. She was perfectly safe with him.
Yet, she couldn’t say the same for Brendan. She didn’t believe he would harm Elena, but his friends might have. And regardless of what had happened, she had to accompany Styr on his search, if for no reason than to protect her foolish younger brother.
‘I’ve seen the way he watches you,’ Terence continued. ‘He desires you.’
‘It’s nothing, Terence,’ she insisted. ‘I’m like a sister to him.’
Her brother cast a sidelong glance. ‘You’re anything but that. And I don’t trust him.’
‘I do. He’s saved my life, more than once.’
Terence caught her hand, pulling her back before she could leave. From his belt, he withdrew a small pouch. ‘Take these with you.’
She felt the weight of the coins and frowned. ‘Where did you get these? And what about the animals and supplies? All that from our mother’s brooch?’
Terence’s face turned grim. ‘We hired out our swords.’ From the dull tone in his voice, she understood that whatever he’d done, had been for their family. She reached up to embrace him, but though he returned it, she sensed the trouble weighing upon him.
‘You succeeded, then.’
His expression remained shielded. ‘I’m not proud of what I did.’
Caragh had no time to ask further questions, for Ronan and Styr approached. Already her brother was pointing out the direction he intended to search. To Styr, he directed, ‘If you’ll take Caragh and go deeper into the city, we’ll rejoin you here at sundown.’
She didn’t miss the reluctance on Styr’s face. Before he could argue again, Ronan handed a bundle of supplies to Styr. ‘See to it that she eats.’
Did he believe she was a small child incapable of caring for herself? She ignored his patronising tone and started walking north, along the edge of the docks.
Within moments, Styr guided her away. ‘Your brothers will search here. It’s not a place for a woman.’ He kept one hand upon his battleaxe, and his eyes scanned the crowd, as if searching for any possible threats. His other palm moved to the small of Caragh’s back.
She knew it was only a means of telling others that she was under his protection. But even so, she grew conscious of his large hand upon her spine and the firm pressure against her skin. A strange ache resonated through her, moving from his palm, over her own skin. He’d made her feel safe on the night she’d nearly drowned, warming her with his body.
She glanced over at him, and his eyes were constantly searching, his pace swift. ‘Do you know anyone in the city you could ask?’
He shook his head. ‘We’ll start in the marketplace.’
As they continued walking further, she was overwhelmed by the crowds, her eyes drinking in the sights. ‘I’ve never seen so many people before.’
‘Have you never left Gall Tír?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve lived there all my life.’ And although she knew every person within the ringfort, she’d heard stories of cities so large, it was impossible to know the names of all who dwelled within its walls.
Seeing Áth Cliath, she could believe it. Though this was her own country, the Irish and the Norse were mingled together. The Lochlannach settlements were unusual, with long, rectangular houses set out in quadrants. Even the women were dressed differently, their long yellow hair bound up in braids. They wore long aprons over their gowns, with brooches fastened at the shoulders. And they were so tall, like exotic goddesses.
Caragh was entranced by them. Her hand reached up to her own dark locks, as if imagining them in braids.
When they reached the open market, her eyes widened at the sight of the food, the livestock, and all the merchants. Voices mingled together in different languages, lauding their wares, while others bargained for the best price.
Caragh stopped before all of it, and Styr caught her hand. ‘We should go.’
‘Wait.’ Never in her life had she been in a place such as this, and she likely would not visit again. ‘Could we look at their wares? I’ve not seen a place like this before.’ She hid the pouch of coins Terence had given her, tying it within the folds of her gown.
He guided her away from the crowd, his gaze dark. ‘I didn’t want you to come with me, Caragh. And I’m not about to waste time here in the marketplace.’
Her mood diminished at his anger, and she recognised it for what it was—worry. ‘We’re going to find her,’ she reiterated. ‘But instead of searching blindly, we should ask.’
He didn’t want to; that was evident enough. Impatience dominated his mood like a dark cloud.
‘If she was brought here, someone might have seen her,’ Caragh said. ‘We’ll speak with every merchant, until we learn something.’
Though he didn’t disguise his reluctance, he lowered his head in a grim nod. ‘So be it.’
It was the best she could hope for. She gave his hand a friendly squeeze, but he jerked his hand away, giving her a stare of warning. It bewildered her why he would feel threatened by such a gesture, but she made a silent vow to herself, not to touch him again.
The first place they visited was a spice merchant. The aroma was like nothing she’d experienced before, and she marvelled at the wares.
‘What are these?’ she asked the man, studying the strange coloured pieces and seeds.
His skin was dusky, his eyes shrewd as he answered in Irish, ‘Cinnamon and pepper from the Far East, lady.’ He held up a sample, and the exotic scent made her close her eyes. To Styr, he said, ‘I will give you a good price for them.’
‘No, you won’t.’ Styr guided her away. ‘We came to ask you about a Norse woman.’ He described Elena to the man, and Caragh interjected with her own questions about Brendan.
The man lifted his shoulders in a shrug. ‘I do not remember them. But if you want to buy some of my spices, they will make your food taste like it came from a king’s table.’
‘No.’ Styr rested his hands on Caragh’s shoulders, guiding her away while the merchant kept pleading with them to