Stolen by the Viking Page 10

  ‘Innocent men and women died that day. I will not forget their deaths or my vengeance.’

  For a long moment, Breanne stared out at the sea, turning over the problem in her mind. Her foster father had caused Alarr’s injuries and the loss of his loved ones. But the man who had cut Alarr down was the same man who had comforted her after the deaths of her parents. Feann had taken her into his home, raising her among his sons, and she loved him. He was the only father she had ever known.

  And yet, he had abandoned her when she’d needed him most. It had been weeks since she’d been sold into slavery, and he had never tried to find her. Yet, Alarr had been there for her from the beginning. Even now, he was trying to find a compromise between them, despite his intentions of vengeance. She wanted to believe that she could change his mind.

  Her feelings were a storm of confusion. To whom should she be loyal? To the man who had abandoned her or to the man who had saved her? She didn’t know what the answer was, not when she was caught in the middle between them.

  Alarr had offered her freedom, as if he no longer intended to use her. Did that mean he had come to care for her? He had touched her like a lover, awakening feelings she didn’t understand. But if she allowed him to go alone, she sensed that her father would harm him. If Feann had gone to the wedding and was involved in the death of Alarr’s father, he would recognise him and possibly kill Alarr. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

  ‘I will go with you to Killcobar,’ Breanne said at last. Not only because she hoped to protect her father, but also because she didn’t want Alarr to die. She couldn’t put a name to her feelings, but she owed him her life. It wasn’t right to turn away from him.

  Breanne walked alongside Alarr towards the water’s edge. The sun dusted the waves in a glittering haze of light. She removed her shoes and walked along the frigid sand. The icy water matched her mood, and she tried to think of what she could do. The truth was, she didn’t want either of them to be hurt.

  Alarr trailed behind, and she paused a moment, letting the waves pool around her ankles. But the cold brought a new clarity to her thoughts. There was something she could do to protect him and still grant him compensation for his loss, if he were to agree. Alarr might desire vengeance, but bloodshed could be avoided in a different way.

  It was a means of putting herself between the two men, shielding them both through her actions. Her nerves gathered up inside her, for she didn’t know if she dared to voice her suggestion. It was an unlikely choice, one he might reject.

  She didn’t even know if it was what she wanted. But if it meant protecting two men she cared about, perhaps it was the best solution.

  Breanne turned back to him as she walked through the wet sand. ‘This is not finished between us. I will not allow you to harm Feann. But I know of another way you can be compensated for your losses.’

  Alarr met her gaze but was already shaking his head. ‘There is nothing that would atone for what he has done.’

  ‘Hear me out,’ she continued. ‘My foster father owes you for your injuries, and if he played any part in your father’s death, he must pay the corp-dire. The brehons will see to it that justice is served.’

  ‘He will never pay a single coin for my sake,’ Alarr said.

  Breanne steeled herself. ‘He would if you become my husband.’

  Alarr hadn’t known how to answer her, but Breanne pressed her finger to his lips. ‘Do not give me an answer yet. Only think about it. It may be a means of avoiding war.’

  For her sake, he had held his silence.

  * * *

  After they returned to the fortress, Alarr spent the rest of the afternoon and evening working on one of the longhouses, turning over her suggestion in his mind. Why would Breanne suggest marriage between them? She knew his intentions towards her father. Did she believe that a union would bring peace? Never. He could not abandon his plans, even for her.

  She had kept her distance from him for the remainder of the day until they returned to the shelter that night. Breanne turned away from him in their shared pallet, but he could tell from her uneven breathing that she was not asleep. Slowly, he drew her close until she was facing him. ‘Why would you believe we should wed, Breanne? Is there not another man you would rather marry?’

  In the faint light of the oil lamp, he could see the uncertainty in her expression. Her body was curled towards him, and her cheeks flushed. ‘No one would have me to wife. Not after this.’

  ‘You are still a maiden,’ he felt compelled to remind her. Although he had touched her intimately, she was innocent in body.

  ‘They never searched for me,’ she said. ‘Not in all these weeks. Believe me when I say that no man of Feann’s kingdom wanted to wed me.’ Sadness and humiliation weighted her words. ‘I never understood why. Was I not good enough? Was there something I should have done differently?’

  Alarr knew not what to say, for he didn’t understand her people’s reasons for abandoning her. Had Breanne been his betrothed bride, he would have torn the countryside apart to find her. ‘You would never want to marry a man who blamed you for your own captivity,’ Alarr said. ‘It would not have been a good union.’ He paused a moment and added, ‘Just as we are not suited to one another.’

  ‘My offer of marriage was about keeping the peace for the time being,’ she argued. ‘Not necessarily an alliance for the rest of our lives. Only until you are compensated for your losses.’

  A temporary marriage, then. But he still believed that was unwise. For if he wedded Breanne, he suspected he could not let her remain a virgin.

  He brought his hand to her waist, not really understanding why he had the need to touch her. ‘I am prepared to face my own death for his, Breanne. It’s why I travelled this far.’

  He saw the uncertainty in her eyes and the fear. But he didn’t want her to build him up as a hero. Feann deserved to die for what he’d done. There would be no mercy, no turning back now.

  She studied him with a sombre gaze. ‘If we are wedded, Feann will not harm you.’

  Alarr didn’t believe that for a moment. ‘If Feann already slaughtered my family and my bride, he would not hesitate to have me killed.’

  ‘He would protect you for my sake,’ she said quietly. There was an edge of desperation in her tone. ‘If we visit Killcobar together, I could talk to Feann. We could reach an agreement.’

  He wanted to argue that Feann cared only for himself. Such a man would not listen to reason or agree to a corp-dire payment. The king hadn’t even bothered to search for his foster daughter. But if Alarr revealed that, it would only hurt her feelings. Breanne held loyalty to a man who deserved none of it.

  His mood hardened at the thought. Every time he thought of that day, of the blood and death, it ignited the fury inside him, stoking the flames of vengeance. ‘I will never forget what he did.’

  ‘I understand,’ she murmured. ‘But surely there is a way to compensate you for your loss. According to the law—’

  ‘The law will not bring back my father. Or Gilla.’ He pulled back from her and met her gaze squarely. He could never be swayed from this course. He needed her to understand that, but more than that, he needed distance between them. Her soft heart was weakening his resolve. The closer he grew to Breanne, the more he doubted his decisions. It was better to shut down any thoughts of marriage.

  ‘There can be no wedding between us. Not now or ever.’

  She closed her eyes as if his words were a physical blow. ‘I know you do not want me as your bride. But so many lives could be saved. Including your own.’

  He cared naught for his life. What good was he to anyone now? He could barely fight, and he never wanted to see a look of fear or loathing on Breanne’s face if he was unable to defend her. He had barely managed to save her from Oisin the first time.

  He could not allow her to sacrifice her own future for his,
nor could he imagine another wedding—not even to a woman he desired so badly. The memories of bloodshed would never leave him, and he could not even consider marriage. He didn’t deserve happiness after his first bride had died before he could save her. The gods had punished him by allowing him to live as less than a man with visible scars to remind him of his failure.

  But he refused to accept that life. Better to die avenging those who had lost their lives than to go on with his.

  Breanne was far too good for someone like him. He had to cut her off and make her despise him. It was the only way to protect her from being hurt. And so, he delivered the cutting blow.

  ‘You are only a slave to me, Breanne. It’s all you’ve ever been.’ Alarr stood from the pallet, turning away so he would not see her reaction. ‘I bought you to get close to Feann. And then, I always intended to kill him.’

  He did not stay to hear her answer, nor did he want to see her face. He wanted to sever all ties between them and cause her to hate him. Only then, would it be easier to leave her behind and enact his plans for vengeance.

  Outside, the night air was cool, a welcome contrast from the heat of his skin. Alarr strode across the fortress, the gates flanked by torches. Guards stood at intervals, and he nodded in greeting. He knew not where he was going—only that he needed to escape the confines of the longhouse.

  You did what was necessary, his conscience reminded him. You had to let her go.

  And yet, he loathed himself for what he’d said—even knowing that there was no other choice but to hurt her.

  As he passed a shadowed corner, he heard a soft laugh. There, he spied Caragh seated upon a low stool, Styr kneeling before her. The leader was washing her feet, and the act grew intimate when his wife’s laugh turned into a low intake of breath. Alarr kept walking, pretending as if he hadn’t seen them. But the image struck hard within him, of what it would be like to spend each day with a woman he cared about...of what it would be like to touch her and hear her sigh with desire.

  The closest he had ever come to it was when he’d touched Breanne.

  Chapter Five

  In the morning, Breanne awakened and stared at the partition, feeling humiliated and broken.

  ‘You are only a slave to me, Breanne. It’s all you’ve ever been.’

  Alarr’s words had cut her to the bone, reminding her that she was worth nothing to him. She wanted to weep, but there were no tears, only the aching anguish within her. Not only from his refusal, but it was also because she felt abandoned by everyone.

  No one wanted her. Not her foster family, not her betrothed husband, and not the man who had saved her. The shame burned within her that she had dared to offer him marriage.

  It didn’t matter. Alarr had made his point clear. There would be nothing between them. His intent was to use her and discard her.

  But that didn’t mean she would stand aside and let that happen. She had other ways of getting home, and she had no intention of becoming Alarr’s pawn in a game of death.

  She stood from her pallet and walked through the longhouse, searching for Caragh. The young woman was nowhere to be found, but she saw Styr instead. The leader was speaking with one of his men about building another longhouse, and she waited quietly until he had finished. After the other man had left, Styr motioned for her to come closer.

  ‘Was there something you needed, Breanne?’ he asked quietly.

  She nodded. ‘I have decided to accept your wife’s offer. She told me you could send several of your men as my escorts and return me to Killcobar without Alarr.’ Breanne could see no other alternative than to return home in secret, before he could stop her. Then she would play no part in his attack. The harsh ache in her stomach returned along with her shame.

  Styr hesitated before saying, ‘You’ve decided not to travel with him, then?’

  Breanne shook her head. ‘He intends to kill my foster father. So no, I will not let him use me in his vengeance.’ If words would not convince Alarr, she had no choice but to use actions instead.

  Styr motioned for her to walk with him. ‘Are you certain this is what he intends?’ Although the jarl kept his tone even, she suspected he was probing for more information.

  Breanne gazed at him squarely. ‘He wants no ransom. His purpose is revenge.’ From the look in Styr’s eyes, she realised that he did not appear at all surprised. It made her wonder what else he knew.

  ‘What happened between Alarr and Feann?’ Styr asked.

  She chose her words carefully. ‘Feann slaughtered Alarr’s bride and father on his wedding day. Alarr wanted to use me as a means of getting close to him. He planned to avenge the deaths of his family.’ She paused and added, ‘Rurik wanted to stop him. He thought if he brought me home first, then it would stop Alarr from his plans. But then we were attacked.’

  ‘One man cannot avenge the deaths of so many,’ Styr argued. ‘He would die in the attempt.’

  The ache deepened inside her at the thought. ‘He would. But Alarr has said that it does not matter to him.’ Nor did she matter to him. She should have been more guarded with her feelings, but she had allowed him to cloud her sense of reason. ‘I would rather go home by myself. But he cannot know of this.’

  Styr’s expression was stoic, and he said, ‘Let us go and speak with Caragh.’

  He led her outside, past the other longhouses, until they reached the stables. Inside, the air was pungent, and the animals grazed in their stalls. Caragh was brushing a mare, speaking softly to her. When she heard them enter, she turned and smiled. ‘I could not resist the urge to visit with the animals. I might go riding today if the weather holds.’

  ‘Breanne wants to return to Killcobar today,’ Styr said to his wife. ‘Without Alarr.’

  Caragh’s smile faded. ‘So you’ve changed your mind, then.’

  Breanne nodded. ‘I cannot be a part of his revenge.’ She told Caragh of Alarr’s plans and the young woman exchanged a glance with her husband. It was clear that the pair of them were deciding what to do, and in the meantime, Breanne distracted herself by rubbing the ears of a young stallion. The horse nudged her shoulder, wanting more affection, and she gave it.

  ‘Alarr will pursue you the moment he knows you’re gone,’ Caragh predicted. ‘He cares about you too much, Breanne.’

  ‘I am his property, nothing more.’ The words cut into her mood, darkening it. ‘I will not go with him. Not if it endangers my family.’ Or his own life, she thought. The worst part was that she could not deny that her own feelings for Alarr had gone past friendship. She needed to distance herself and remember that he was an enemy. He would not set aside his vengeance, no matter how she pleaded.

  Styr regarded her and answered at last, ‘I believe it’s too late for me to send men to bring you home—especially now. Alarr would only pursue you and cause harm to my kinsmen.’ He shook his head. ‘I am sorry, but I cannot.’

  ‘She could go if they leave in the middle of the night,’ his wife suggested. ‘If they ride swiftly, it may be possible.’

  ‘No.’ Styr was adamant in his refusal. ‘The only thing I can do is send a messenger to Feann. If he wishes to come and claim her, I will allow it. That is the best I can offer.’

  Breanne faced the pair of them and realised that she had no choice but to wait. Though she inclined her head and murmured her thanks, inwardly she feared it would not happen. Feann had sent no one to rescue her thus far. This message might have no effect on him, and she would still be forced to go with Alarr.

  It bothered her deeply to know that she was alone, with no one to help her. She had relied on others to save her, and it had come to naught. If she wanted to change her circumstances, she would have to form her own plans.

  But she would not allow Alarr to use her—not when it threatened the only family she had left.

  Three days later

  Rurik’s wounds were h
ealing, and Alarr was glad to see his brother walking once again. He needed his brother’s advice about attacking Killcobar. During the past two nights, he had spent time apart from Breanne. She hardly spoke to him any more, and he regretted what he’d said. He had let himself get too close, and that was his own fault. Better to cut his ties now than to watch her anguish when he took Feann’s life.

  ‘How are you faring this morn?’ he asked Rurik.

  ‘Well enough.’ His brother exposed the angry red flesh that was healing from his shoulder wound. ‘Would that it had been my left shoulder that was injured. But I can still fight if I must.’

  ‘Good. I will have need of your blade when the time comes.’

  Rurik’s expression twisted. ‘We need to talk.’

  He suspected that his brother would try to convince him not to fight Feann. But Alarr nodded and said, ‘We should go outside the settlement to speak freely.’

  Rurik agreed, and they walked past the outbuildings through the gates. When they were a short distance away from the tribesmen, Alarr said, ‘Tell me why you are trying to avoid confronting Feann. You know what he did to our father.’

  His half-brother paused a moment. ‘I asked myself why Feann would travel so far to plot the murder of Sigurd. Only a man trying to provoke a war would do something like that. Or someone who desired his own vengeance.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter why. It only matters that he and his men started the battle. I intend to finish it.’ Alarr stopped when they reached the outskirts of the forest.

  ‘My mother was from Éireann, Alarr. It was no coincidence that Feann’s men travelled across the sea. There is a connection between Saorla and Feann. I believe that.’

  ‘Possibly.’ He conceded that there could have been a reason. ‘But Saorla came to Maerr of her own free will. She bore children to Sigurd.’