Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 01] (26 page)

Ruby moved closer, using the balls of her feet in a
sliding motion so she wouldn’t limp. That gave him a better view of the garment she wore. For the love of Freya! The black silk and lace wisp barely covered her from the tips of her breasts to the vee at her legs, pushing in and out at strategic places. He could see the shadow of her nipples and the dark curly hair that covered her womanhood through the thin lace. Never in all his years of travel had he seen such a marvel—not even in the Eastern harems.

Thork gulped and looked again. It appeared as if she’d shaved part of herself
there
to accommodate the revealing lines of her garment. He was no longer in the mood for laughing.

“Turn,” he directed through a suddenly dry throat.

The thought that Ruby would go to so much trouble to entice him touched Thork with the force of a rolling boulder. His heart constricted oddly in his chest. No one had ever shown so much caring for him afore.

When she turned, Thork felt the blood drain from his face at the sight of her nether cheeks half exposed by the slant of the outfit’s bottom edge. A burgeoning arousal pulled sharply at his groin.

“Do you like it?” she asked uncertainly when she faced him again.

“I like it fine.” Holy Thor! Was the wench blind? Could she not see just how much he liked it?

“Only fine?” Her lips turned down in disappointment.

“What do you want from me, wench?” Thork grated out between gritted teeth. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take or even if he wanted to resist anymore.

“I think you know.” She looked up at him hopefully through the shadows of her half-lowered lids.

“I cannot,” he groaned.

“Why?” she asked softly, tears welling in her eyes.

“You would want more than I could give.”

Ruby shook her head. “For tonight I call a truce. I will
ask no more than you are willing to give.”

Thor’s blood! The woman was a tempting negotiator. “And tomorrow?”

She smiled and shrugged. “I can’t make promises about what I’d do after today.”

“’Tis a trick.”

“No, just a man and a woman…making memories.”

Thork’s heart lurched at her words. He moaned thickly in surrender and started to move toward her. He was stopped short by a loud pounding at the door.

“Thork! Come quickly,” Olaf yelled.

“Go away,” Thork shouted menacingly.

“Nay. ’Tis important. Someone set fire to one of the trade wagons. Men were seen on horseback riding away from the keep.”

Thork cursed and opened the door slightly so Olaf could not see Ruby in her scanty attire. “Where were the guards when the fire started?”

“It happened so quickly. ’Twas little damage, but the attackers are long gone, probably back to Ivar. Only he would try these cowardly hit-and-run tactics.”

“I will be right down. Do not bother sending men out searching tonight, but put a double guard around the keep.”

When Thork closed the door and turned back to Ruby, he saw her sitting in a chair by the cold fireplace, weeping silently. The sight tore at his innards like a barbed arrow.

“Why do you cry, sweetling?” he asked, kneeling in front of her.

She sobbed loudly now. Between gasps, she told him, “I wanted us to be together before the Althing. Tonight was our last chance.”

Ruby’s tears touched him even deeper than her intense sexual magnetism. “Mayhap I can come back to my sleeping chamber later…if you would wait.”

“No,” she sniffled sadly, “once you leave this room you’ll have second thoughts and convince yourself this is for the best. Probably decide I had something to do with the attack on your wagons.” She dried her tears on the edge of the new cloak.

Thork nodded unhappily, acknowledging she was right. Still, he kissed away her tears, kneeling at her feet. He wanted to prolong this bittersweet moment with her as long as possible, endlessly, sensing there would never be another. Finally he tore himself away, but the image of her in the wispy garment stayed with him through the night as he stood guard, prisoner to his conflicting emotions. When he returned near dawn, he saw the blue cloak folded neatly on his chest.

Ruby was gone.

Several miles outside Jorvik, they arrived at the wide plain where the national open-air court would assemble. Aud had explained to Ruby on the day-long trip back to Jorvik that district
Things
, or courts, were held several times each year, though not as often as in the old days, while larger
Althings
were held only once a year.

Hundreds of bright tents—stripes, checks, solids, in all the colors of the rainbow—fluttered throughout the wide-ranging fields in the manner of a giant fairground. Instead of wild animals and hurdy-gurdy shows, these tents housed the fierce, law-loving Vikings who came from many miles around to socialize and participate in the primitive justice system.

As Dar’s household began to erect their own tents, Olaf and Gyda said good-bye to Ruby. They would be staying at their home in Jorvik.

“’Twas a pleasure meeting you,” Gyda said, hugging Ruby warmly. “We did not get to spend much time
together at Dar’s manor, but I bid you the best of luck at the Thing. I wanted you to know that I wish you no harm.”

“Thank you. You’ve been so kind to me. I can never repay you.” Ruby’s voice choked on the last words.

“Think naught of it. Leastways, you more than repaid me with the yellow undergarments.” Gyda rolled her eyes in Olaf’s direction. “They were a huge success. Mayhap they will result in another son come spring.”

When Gyda’s words sunk in, Ruby grabbed the Viking woman and gave her a quick squeeze. “Congratulations! Another baby! How I envy you!”

Olaf stepped up next and shifted uncomfortably. “I will stand behind you at the Thing,” he informed her in a blustery fashion. “A strange wench you surely are, but not a spy to my thinking. If thrall you are declared, I will offer to buy you.”

Ruby accepted his oblique support with a nod, then turned to the girls. She embraced each of them in turn, including Tyra who couldn’t wait to get home and see her ducks and kittens.

Later, after they’d eaten their hastily prepared meal outside the tents, Ruby walked with Thork, Eirik and Tykir around the campsite, stopping often to speak with their old friends. Since last night at Ravenshire when they had almost made love, Thork seemed to have softened toward her.

They were almost like a family.

Eirik had brought his bat and baseball and soon had a game going. Since it was still summer, the skies would not darken for another hour or two. Ruby sat on the grass watching Eirik explain the rules to each of the newcomers who approached.

Thork’s casual stance as he watched his sons emphasized the lines of his powerfully muscled body under a coal-black tunic. Through half-shuttered lashes, Ruby
admired his long, sinewy legs—like bronze marble—beneath the thigh-high garment. She yearned to touch the silken blond hairs just barely revealed at the open laces of his neckline.

“You were always a good baseball player,” Ruby recalled, tipping her face up to him as she lay back on the sun-warmed grassy slope. “Why don’t you play?”

Thork’s handsome face split into a quick, open grin at her words. “Me? Playing children’s games? Never!” He dropped lithely down to the ground and lay on his side watching her, propped on one elbow. The sparkle of his lazy smile kindled a fire in her.

“Surely you played games as a child,” she commented, increasingly distracted as Thork’s long, skillful fingers traced invisible, sensuous circles on her arm, starting at the wrist and moving slowly upward.

“Hah! The only games I recall were hiding from my brother Eric, and that was more a deadly pursuit.” His slowly stalking hand had reached her collarbone, which he tenderly brushed with featherlike strokes.

Ruby swallowed hard and tried to change the subject. “Men play baseball in my country, as well as children. In fact, the really good ones get paid a fortune for it.”

“You make these tales up as you go, I think.” He smiled wickedly as his fingertips crept under the loose collar of her gown and began making little spiraling circles on the ultrasensitive skin. The light caresses ignited delicious tingles wherever they touched.

“Stop it!” Ruby gasped and whisked his hand away. “I can’t think when you do that.”

“Do what?” Thork asked, his blue eyes wide with feigned innocence.

Ruby laughed at this playful side of Thork. “You know exactly what I mean, you tease. Anyhow, instead of trying to seduce me, why don’t you get rid of some of your excess energy down there on the ballfield?” When
he seemed reluctant to remove himself and his feathery fingers, Ruby challenged him, “Come on, big guy. I bet you can’t even hit the ball.”

“Excess energy!” Thork laughed. “Is that what they call it in your country?” He leaned closer, his hot breath tantalizing her parted lips. With a smug grin, Thork whispered, “And what do I get if I win the wager?” Dipping his head, he lowered his mouth and grazed her lips lightly in question. When he pulled away, Ruby’s lips followed his instinctively. He chuckled gleefully at her open response.

“I have nothing of value that you would want,” Ruby rasped out softly and sat up, hugging her knees. Thork followed suit and held her eyes steadily.

“Nay, never think it.”

Ruby arched her eyes in doubt. “I offered more to you than any woman could, and you rejected it every time.”

“Hah! Not because I did not want you, sweet witch. Nay, never that!”

Ruby smiled widely at his backhanded compliment.

Thork poked her in the ribs with a forefinger playfully and cautioned, “Do not think you have won any great battle with such a meager concession on my part.”

“Oh, no, I would never think that, but a teensy little skirmish…couldn’t I claim that?” she bantered. Actually, Ruby felt as if she’d won the whole bloody world with his admission. Was this a first step toward something more?

“Ah, sweetling, do not look at me like that.”

“How?”

“Your smile is edged with sadness, but your eyes glisten still with hope. Can you not accept the fact that there will be no future betwixt us, Ruby?” He shook his head in emphasis, then added softly, “Even though ’tis pleasant to think of what might have been.”

He stood abruptly then, obviously uncomfortable with the direction of their discussion. Gazing down at her, he asked with overbearing confidence, “So you think I could
not hit a piddling-sized ball with a hunk of wood? We shall see.” He strode off down the slope to the field where the boys played ball. Over his shoulder, he informed her with jiggling eyebrows, “I will decide on my forfeit later.”

Thork talked to Eirik for a few moments before he picked up the bat. Like a true athlete, he held it in several positions to feel its weight, scrutinized the angle of the pitcher’s position, seemed to smell the wind, then took the batter’s position.

THWACK!

Ruby wasn’t surprised when the ball whistled over the astonished heads of Eirik and the other players and continued in a flying arc way past the outfield. Eirik beamed with pride at his father’s expertise. Thork declined to run the bases, only wanting to prove a point to her, and handed the bat to the next player. He flashed Ruby a huge smirk when he turned and strutted arrogantly toward her.

Good Lord! A Viking jock!

“Shall we negotiate my forfeit, wench?” Thork asked smoothly as he reached out a hand and hauled her to her feet. Ruby’s heart skipped a beat when he twined his fingers in hers. Like a lifeline, she felt his pulse beat against hers in their joined palms as they walked back to the tents. “You did not wait for me yestereve,” Thork complained softly.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.” Ruby glanced sideways at him in surprise at his abrupt change of subject. Had he been disappointed to find her gone? “I thought the moment had passed, that your usual cool reason had doused your hot blood by the time you returned to the room.”

“Hot blood, huh?” Thork grinned. “Didst you think I only wanted you when you had stoked my lust with that”—Thork stopped for loss of words and smiled with a shake of his head—“with that tiny wisp of a garb designed, no
doubt, to make a man’s tongue hang out. Not to mention other body parts. By the by, I found it under my bed this morn.”

Ruby’s heart soared with hope. What exactly did he mean? She studied his inscrutable face, seeing only the intensity of his expression. Thork seemed to deliberate for several moments the wisdom of disclosing his inner thoughts. With the knuckle of his right hand, he caressed her jaw from ear to chin and back.

Wistfully he finally whispered, “Sweetling, I want you in the morn when I waken and remember my night dreams of you boldly seducing me.” His blue eyes locked with hers to seal his soul-wrenched message, and Ruby felt her world tilt. “I want you when I see you touch my sons with kindness. I want you when I hear you sing about making it through the night. I want you when you speak of kisses that last three days. God’s blood, I want you when you make me laugh. Yea, I do. But one thing you must never misdoubt, sweetling
—I want you
.”

Ruby had trouble speaking over the lump in her throat. “But you resist me, Thork. Despite everything you say, you won’t let me get close. Whether you believe what I say about the future or not, you obviously recognize this bond between us.” She put her hand up to his face and stroked it lovingly. “I don’t know if you’re Jack or just a time reflection of him, but I love you. I know that now, and, dammit, I don’t know what to do about it anymore.” She raised tear-filled eyes to his, looking for answers. “I’ve tried every stupid trick in the book to seduce you, and—”

“Shush,” Thork whispered, pulling her into his arms, his lips in her hair. “’Tis not our time, Rube. In truth, ’twill never be. Mayhap ’tis why your God gave me another chance in another lifetime, if your tales of the future be true.” His voice was deep-timbered with regret for his heartfelt words.

Rube!
He’d called her Rube. “Why did you call me that?”

“What?”

“Rube. You called me Rube.”

Thork shrugged, puzzled at the importance she placed on a simple word. “It just came out that way. Do your people never shorten names?”

The fine hairs stood out on Ruby’s arms. “Oh, Thork! Rube was Jack’s pet name for me. Can’t you see that your use of it is like an omen, as if God, or some higher being, were telling me everything will be all right?”

“Let us speak no more of it, sweetling. It can only cause us both needless anguish.”

Choked with emotion, Ruby asked with a tearful laugh, trying to lighten Thork’s mood, “What did you do with my teddy? Will you put it under your pillow on the long winter nights in Jomsborg to remind you of what you might have had?”

“You call that lacy man-teaser a teddy? How odd!” The corners of his lips lifted enticingly, even though his eyes remained dull with a resigned sadness.

Ruby wiped at the wetness rimming her eyes with the back of her hand, laughing despite her desolation. “Well, it’s a special design of mine—a combination bustier and teddy.” Her eyes narrowed and she asked menacingly, “You wouldn’t think of giving it to another woman? If you do, I swear I’ll put a curse on you—from wherever I am.”

Thork laughed and swung her around in his arms with pure joy. When her feet touched the ground again, he answered, “Nay, you are the only woman ’twould suit. Leastways, I decided on my forfeit for our baseball wager. You must model the teddy for me again. One last time.”

“You better make it soon…before the Thing,” Ruby declared grimly. “The outfit goes better with a head, and you’d never be able to get the bloodstains out of silk.”

“I find your humor ill-timed and inappropriate.” His jaw tightened at her sick joke. Then he turned and walked away from her stiffly.

Ruby decided that Thork must care for her, more than he would acknowledge to himself, and the prospect of her death frightened him. That didn’t speak well for Thork’s optimism about her fate at the Althing. Ruby shivered apprehensively.

Just before she stepped inside the tent, Ruby saw Selik approach with shoulders drooping. “What’s the matter?” she teased. “Did you strike out tonight?”

The uncommonly handsome man had a notorious reputation for attracting females. Ruby pitied Astrid if she hoped to keep this womanizer tied to a hearth fire.

“Strike out? I did not play baseball tonight.” Selik arched his dark brows, a sharp contrast to his almost-white hair. He tilted his head quizzically as he looked Ruby over from head to foot, probably assessing whether she would be worth the trouble of his amorous advances.

“I wasn’t referring to baseball,” Ruby said, amused at his transparency. “I meant that you looked like a horny male who hadn’t been lucky tonight.”

“Lucky? What language do you speak?”

“Oh, Selik! It’s just an expression. You know, if you found a woman to share your tent, you might say, ‘I got lucky tonight.’”

His face lit up with understanding. “So to be unlucky is to strike out?”

“Right!”

“I like that,” he said with a nod, “although I usually only hit home runs.”

When she made a tsk-ing sound of disgust at his conceit, he smiled widely, exposing the whitest, evenest teeth Ruby had ever seen outside an orthodontist’s office. Despite his devastating good looks, Ruby felt no attraction whatsoever toward him. She was deliberating over that sudden insight
when Selik asked in a low, silky voice, “Did your husband really shave your legs?”

“Yes, he did,” Ruby answered, laughing at his bluntness.

“Mayhap I would enjoy doing that for you…seeing as how you have no husband to—”

“Mayhap you would like to have your balls cut off.”

Ruby and Selik both jumped at the voice behind them. It was Thork.

“Hardly.” Selik answered dryly, crossing his legs comically to cover his genitals in pretended horror.

“Then get the hell to your own tent where you belong.”

Ruby and Selik gaped at Thork, finding it hard to comprehend Thork’s anger over a casual conversation.

“Methinks the man is testy because he was
unlucky
tonight,” Selik bantered, glancing pointedly at Ruby, then inquired sweetly, “Didst thou perchance strike him out?”

Ruby bit her lip to stifle a giggle.