‘I’ve not heard,’ Styr answered. He pounded another nail into the wood.
‘Did anyone send word that Breanne was taken?’
The leader shook his head slowly. ‘There was no news until you arrived.’
Then that meant Feann was trying to keep Breanne’s fate quiet. Perhaps to protect her status, Alarr decided. He met Styr’s gaze and informed the man, ‘I will be taking her back to Killcobar in a few days, if your men can be ready.’
Styr struck another nail into the wood with a mallet. ‘They can, so long as the grain is stored. But they will not fight, unless I command it of them.’
‘It is not my intent to provoke a fight,’ Alarr answered, ‘but neither will I be Feann’s target.’
‘Why do you not send Breanne back to him without a ransom?’ Styr asked. ‘We both know you have no need of the silver.’
Alarr eyed the jarl and hesitated, wondering if he should admit the truth. He decided against it, for Styr would not want to endanger his men. Thus far, he intended to use Breanne as a distraction. After he brought her back, he would pretend to leave with the others. And that night, he would confront Feann alone and gain his vengeance.
The thought of facing the man brought about the dark memory of his battle injury. His calves had a phantom ache, even now, from Feann’s sword.
‘I believe Breanne was betrayed by some of her foster father’s men,’ he said at last. ‘If they were the ones to sell her into slavery, then it is not safe for her to go alone.’
That seemed to satisfy Styr, and he thought a moment. ‘I understand. I will ask our men this night who would like to accompany you.’
‘My thanks.’
A sense of guilt slid through him at the half-truth. One of Feann’s men had taken Breanne and accepted payment for her—but after Alarr had hired him. He had fully intended to steal her away, only to be betrayed when she was sold into slavery. That same man might be there still, and if he were, Alarr intended to seek his own justice.
Yet, it still bothered him that no one had come to search for her. Dozens of men should have tried to find her, and he couldn’t understand why they hadn’t. It felt as if he were missing information that could later become a threat.
Alarr returned to his work and saw Breanne joining the women. They had gathering baskets and were talking to one another as they walked. Caragh was beside her, and the woman smiled at him when they passed. Breanne’s cheeks flushed when she risked a glance.
As Alarr continued to work on the longhouse with the other men, he let himself fall into the steady rhythm of the work. It felt good to labour while his mind drifted to his plans. Yet even as he worked, he couldn’t stop looking back at Breanne. Her red-gold hair was bound back into a long braid, and while she spoke with Caragh, she was smiling.
Alarr thought of last night when Breanne had massaged the medicine into his aching limbs. Her touch had aroused him deeply, and he had wanted nothing more than to spend the night pleasuring her. She allured him like no other, and when he’d kissed her, she had kissed him back. He didn’t know what was happening between them, but he knew it was wrong. She was an innocent, and he had taken advantage of her. Breanne had succumbed to temptation, but there could never be anything permanent between them. After he took her to Killcobar, she would never see him again. He was prepared to face his own death—but he didn’t want her involved. His honour was weary and worn, but in this, he would stand firm. She deserved a man who would be there for her, who would care for her.
As for himself, he was a broken shell of a man. Because of Feann’s sword, he’d lost his ability to fight. Even now, running was difficult without a hard limp. He felt like a cripple at times, and the truth was, he’d avoided any raids or skirmishes since he’d been wounded.
It was like a splinter in his soul, degrading him as a warrior. His need for vengeance wasn’t only about his father’s death...it was for himself. He despised Feann for what he had done, and he would never stand back and abandon the matter—even if that meant using Breanne and betraying her trust. He could not let himself soften towards her. There could be no emotion to threaten his resolve. He would kill her foster father, and he cared not what happened afterwards. He tightened the invisible bonds around his conscience, refusing to even consider mercy. Mercy was not shown to his father or to him. And Feann would pay the price for murder.
Morning shifted into afternoon, and eventually, Styr called a halt to their work. They climbed down from the ladders and began to walk towards the centre of the settlement, when suddenly, Alarr saw the women returning near the gates. Several were carrying baskets of apples, but Breanne was not among them.
Caragh came running towards her husband, and there was a stricken expression on her pale face. Styr caught her in his arms, and they spoke together in private. The leader glanced at several of his fighters, and his expression was grim. Then he fixed his gaze upon Alarr, motioning him to come closer.
‘We need men to help us search,’ he said. ‘Breanne has gone missing.’
The words took him aback, and for a moment, Alarr was torn between fear and wondering if she had taken the opportunity to escape. He had let down his guard too soon and had allowed her too much freedom. He had trusted that she would not leave, believing she would wait until he brought her home.
Yet, after he’d kissed her, he might have frightened her into thinking he intended to claim her body. He
