Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 01] (14 page)

Ruby resolved after that to keep her mouth shut, not to volunteer any more information. What she didn’t need was to call attention to herself, and that’s just what she’d been doing by creating a stir with her lingerie and birth control. No more!

Thork and Olaf had been gone the past week. They had sold most of the goods carried on Thork’s ships, a percentage of which belonged to Olaf, and had stored the rest on Dar’s estate where they’d been the past week. The Althing would be held in three short weeks. Thork was making a concerted effort to take care of business before he left Jorvik—and her—for a long, long time. She might not ever see him again.

Ruby could not think beyond the present. Her future fluttered dark and shadowy in front of her. Not only was she terrified of her “trial” at the Althing, but the prospect of being alone in the Viking land, without Thork, traumatized her with its uncertainties.

She tried to keep the fearful images at bay with busy work, but she and Gyda both froze with surprise in the midst of drying mushrooms two days later to see Thork and Olaf and a strangely familiar gray-haired man come stomping into the house.

A gamut of emotions rippled through Ruby as she faced her husband, who was not her husband—mostly just plain happiness to see him again. Her spirits were out of sync, however, with the tense drama being played out on Thork’s stormy face.

“What in the name of Loki have you been up to now?” Thork demanded of Ruby, without any greeting.

His riveting gaze accused her coldly, so different from the last time she’d seen him outside Olaf’s barn, where they’d shared a sweet kiss. Under his steady scrutiny, Ruby’s confidence faltered uneasily.

“Less than a sennight I have been gone and already you create a furor!”

“Me?” Ruby’s blood ran cold. Her mind worked overtime to understand his accusation. She had a sneaking suspicion about what prompted Thork’s irritation, but hoped it wasn’t true. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she fabricated.

“Sigtrygg sent an urgent message demanding I return to Jorvik at once—to remove the troublesome wench from his city afore she created a rebellion among the woman. Could he perchance refer to you?” Thork asked smoothly.

Fear rose biliously to her throat, but Ruby opted for a brave front.

“Really! What could one woman do? He’s just on the down side of one of his mood swings.” Ruby’s heart sank
at the sure knowledge the king had heard about her birth control lectures.
Oh, boy!

Ruby peered up at Thork through lowered lashes, trying to gauge just how upset he was. Thork stood in an angry, widespread stance, glowering down at her with hands on his hips. As if she were a naughty child! Should she warn him ahead of time what to expect from the king? Nah! she decided. Let him find out for himself.

“Thork, do you not introduce me?” the gray-haired gentleman asked petulantly.

Thork turned away reluctantly, not having got the needed answers from her. Before he did, he shot her a loaded look that said he would deal with her later. “Ruby, this is my grandfather Dar,” Thork said grudgingly.

“Ah! The wench who claims to be your wife from the future.” The old codger chuckled with relish.

“Who told you that?” Thork scoffed, taking the ale Gyda offered him and quaffing it down, then wiping his mouth with the back of a dusty sleeve. His day-old beard and his rumpled, dirty clothing bespoke the urgency of Sigtrygg’s recall, Ruby realized with new foreboding.

“Word travels fast, even to our remote area.” Dar winked conspiratorially at Ruby.

Ruby blinked dazedly over the fast pace of all the innuendos flying over her head. Ruby should have known the man was related to Thork. Dar was about the same height, though his shoulders stooped slightly with age and his build was not so muscular. His face mirrored a craggy, older version of Thork’s, both arrogant and handsome as hell.

“Aud and her ladies ask that I bring back samples of the strange garments they hear so much about,” Dar told Ruby. Amusement flickered in his rheumy eyes. “By the blood of Christ, I know not why women need waste good cloth to cover a bare arse, nor the tit that is better left uncovered to suckle the babe or succor the man.”

Thork’s eyes twinkled with reluctant amusement at his grandfather’s vulgar words, probably because he knew how much they irritated Ruby.

“Have you no tongue in your head, thrall?” the wretched old man continued. “’Tis certain I was told you do nothing but spout words the day long.” He chortled heartily at his own words. Thork’s tight expression relaxed into a faint smile at Ruby’s expense.

Ruby bristled with indignation over Dar’s words. She’d had it up to here with rude, crude, arrogant Vikings. Holding her arms stiffly at her sides, afraid she might slap the old fart, Ruby confronted Dar with barely suppressed fury. “The day I choose to lash you with my tongue,
old man
, you will know it. But even I,
thrall
that I am, know how to show some manners. Mayhap,” she said, emphasizing the archaic word, “I could teach you some proper etiquette—if you are not too ignorant to learn.”

Thork rolled his eyes, biting his bottom lip to stifle an outright laugh. Gyda made the sign of the cross. Olaf glared at her in outrage. But Dar smiled from ear to ear and put his hands on both her shoulders, squeezing hard. “Well met, wench, you will suit. Yea, methinks you will suit very well.” Then he turned to Thork, who eyed him suspiciously, and snapped, “Do we dawdle here all day, boy? I thought you were summoned to Sigtrygg’s castle.”

Thork grumbled something incoherent about old men and sucking eggs. Dar ignored him pointedly and, before leaving, commanded Ruby, “Have some of those garments ready for my departure tomorrow. My wife, Aud, is about the same size as Gyda, do you not think so, Thork?”

“You cannot be serious!” Thork exclaimed, slamming his goblet on the table.

“That I am!” A flash of humor softened his wrinkled face.

“My grandmother would never wear such…things,”
Thork sputtered, turning indignant eyes on Ruby, as if this were all her idea.

“Do not wager on it,” Dar countered with a wry, knowing grin. Thork’s face reddened with embarrassment.

Before they were out the door, Thork warned Ruby in a loud stage whisper, “You and I have much to discuss. I mislike my life being dictated by a wench. Be here when I return.”

“I’ll think about it,” Ruby asserted foolishly. As if she had anyplace else to go!

Gyda worked quietly, ominously, as they continued with their tasks. When Astrid asked Ruby if she wanted to go to market, Gyda advised her to stay at home that day, in case the men should return soon. Ruby was tidying her sleeping chamber when she heard the door slam below and angry voices arguing back and forth, including Gyda’s.

“Nay! I will not do it. She is not my responsibility. Sigtrygg has no right to interfere with my Jomsviking commitments.” Thork swore loudly and eloquently. Then Ruby heard Olaf chastise him for using coarse language in Gyda’s presence, to which Thork apologized curtly and added, “Can you imagine what she would do to the men on my ship if I took her aboard? She would probably have them putting laces on the sails or designing see-through codpieces for themselves.”

Laughter filtered up to Ruby at his last words. Then Gyda, the wonderful woman, defended Ruby. “Ruby only tried to help, Thork. She meant no harm.”

“May all the gods spare us from her help in the future!” Thork snorted with disgust.

“There is another solution,” Dar offered in a cunning voice.

“What might that be?” Thork asked dubiously.

“We could bring her back to Ravenshire till the Althing meets. After all, ’tis only three sennights from now. What more harm could the wench do?”

“What harm, indeed!” Thork scoffed, but he sounded more amenable to her being in Dar’s home than on his ship. “Bring the wench down, Gyda, but warn her to keep her bloody mouth shut or, I swear, I will strip the flesh from her back this time, as Sigtrygg has suggested I do.”

When Ruby came downstairs, trying to appear as meek and innocent as possible, the men sat at the table watching her somberly, like three blasted judges. Tempted to turn and run back upstairs, Ruby chose, instead, to move forward stoically.

Exasperated to the breaking edge, Thork pointed a censuring finger at Ruby and informed her without preamble, “You have now convinced Sigtrygg that you must be a spy from Ivar. His exact words were ‘Not only does Ivar wish to kill off all my men, now he sends this woman to ensure that we have no young to replace our dead.’”

“That’s ridiculous! All I—”

Thork raised a hand angrily to halt her speech and ordered through thinned lips, “In the future you will speak only when given permission to do so.”

We’ll see about that
. But Ruby knew enough to remain silent for now.

“The mischievous Loki had to have sent you into my life as an enormous joke. He and all the other devils, Christian and Viking alike, are laughing heartily by now.”

“Who is Loki?”

“I told you not to speak unless given permission,” Thork snapped.

“What could you be thinking of, wench,” Olaf intervened quizzically, “to preach the killing of babes to our women?”

Ruby didn’t care what Thork ordered. She couldn’t remain silent at such horrendous accusations. “I
never
discussed the killing of children—in or out of the womb. I only talked about methods of
preventing
conception.”

Thork stood abruptly, overturning a goblet of ale. Her
defiance of his command of silence incensed him. Nostrils flaring, he moved toward her. Ruby momentarily panicked and jumped behind Dar’s chair for protection. She cowered there for several seconds before becoming disgusted with herself. Straightening herself on wobbly knees, she said with as much dignity as she could muster, “Oh, go ahead and punish me, Thork. I can’t keep quiet when I’m falsely accused.”

“Falsely accused!” Thork sputtered, as Olaf reached out a hand and pulled him back to his chair. Meanwhile, Gyda refilled their cups of ale, probably hoping that would mellow them a bit. Gyda’s eyes registered with Ruby’s for a moment in sympathy.

“I refuse to hear your lame excuses. ’Tis not at issue here, leastways. Sigtrygg bellows madder than a wounded bear and would have you punished to the death, whether you be kin to Hrolf or not.”

“Mayhap we women could go to him and explain how harmless the talks were,” Gyda offered placatingly.

“Yea, and wear a black eye like the good Byrnhil does,” Dar commented dryly.

“Get you from this company, Gyda,” Olaf roared like a wild bull at his wife’s breaking into men’s talk. “Where did you learn to act the man, interrupting in such an uncomely manner? Probably from this meddlesome lackwit.” He looked pointedly at Ruby, then back to Gyda. “In truth, I have been too lax with you, wife.”

Weeping loudly, Gyda fled the room with her apron thrown over her face. So, this is what her interference had brought to one of the few friends she’d made here! Ruby chastised herself.

“That was unnecessary and cruel,” Ruby chided Olaf, and before he could respond, she turned to Thork coldly, “What do you want me to do?”

Ruby saw the angry emotions warring inside him and
knew he struggled to contain them. Finally he told her in a flat voice, “We travel to my grandfather’s home tomorrow. Gyda and her family accompany us—not for your company, but because my grandmother Aud requests it. There you will remain silent and biddable, causing no more trouble, until the Althing releases me from my responsibilty. Do you understand?”

Ruby nodded.

“Because, if you do not, you will be bound and gagged in his keep till you cannot move or speak.”

Thoroughly subdued, at least on the surface, Ruby went back to her chamber to contemplate the fine mess she’d made of things—once again. Lying on her pallet, staring at the ceiling, Ruby eventually fell asleep. She was surprised several hours later to look up and see Thork leaning against the door jamb, watching her curiously.

“What? What have I done now?” Ruby jumped up, alarmed.

“I thought I told you not to speak,” Thork said in a surprisingly soft voice, tinged with humor.

Ruby sniffed contemptuously and walked over to her small window. Dusk settled lazily over the clear sky. It would be a nice day tomorrow for traveling. Then she turned to study Thork’s blank face, unable to read his emotions, or know whether there was some new crime of which she was to be accused.

Drops of moisture from a recent bath beaded in his hair and dripped down his clean-shaven face. The silky blond hairs on his bare arms and calves glistened in the afternoon sun streaming through her small window. The rich outlines of his strong shoulders strained the fabric of his crisp, buttery brown leather tunic, and the dragon belt accented his deliciously narrow waist and hips.

He was a devilishly handsome man, no doubt about it. The sheer masculinity he exuded filled the air and made Ruby blush with unbidden, secret thoughts.

Thork returned her bold gaze with hooded, hawklike intensity, as if trying to solve some great puzzle. “Tempted I am to offer you freedom in exchange for information about who you really are,” he said huskily.

Ruby’s traitorous heart skipped a beat at his softly spoken words. She sighed, trying to get her emotions under control, and answered him, “I’ve told you repeatedly who I am, but you won’t believe me. I have many faults, Thork, but I’m not a liar. I despise lies.”

“And I hate mysteries.” He held her gaze steadily, then shook his head in wonder and a hint of humor. “What could possess you to teach the women birth control, of all things, and where would you have gleaned such information?”

Ruby bridled under his criticism. “Perhaps, if the women you and the other Viking men bed so indiscriminately knew more about birth control, there wouldn’t be so many bastards around.”

“Do you call my sons bastards?” Thork challenged, then softened. “Would you begrudge them life?”

“Of course not. That’s not what I meant.” Then Ruby thought of something. “Thork, do you have other children?” Good heavens! He probably had dozens of children in as many countries.