Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 01]

by The Reluctant Viking

  Ruby’s heart lurched, though, when she saw the young woman sitting next to Thork at the head table. Her long chestnut hair hung past her shoulders, held in place by a gold circlet around her forehead. No more than fifteen years old, she seemed to answer Thork’s questions shyly, averting her eyes from his direct stare, then darting interested glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

  It had to be the Saxon-Viking maid Elise that Dar wanted for Thork. Elise’s father, whose lands adjoined Dar’s, sat on one side of Dar, his wife on the other.

  In disgust, Ruby took a hefty swig of the hearty Viking ale and choked. It was odious.

  “Tastes like horse piss, does it not?” a young pimply-faced hesir whined next to her. “The best wine and mead go to the upper tables.”

  Ruby put her elbow on the table, holding up her chin, and wondered what else could go wrong. First Linette, now this beautiful young girl. Ruby watched painfully as Thork cut a prime piece of meat off the platter he shared with the girl and handed it to her considerately. She smiled sweetly at him in thanks.

  Ruby thought she would puke.

  Ella walked by with a tray of bannock, and Ruby stopped her. “Do you think you could bring me some wine?”

  “Needin’ ta drown yer sorrows, are ya?” she said, cocking her head toward the dais, but she returned shortly with a small jug which she’d hidden in her skirts.

  “Do not let anyone see this,” Ella said, sliding it under the bench at Ruby’s feet. “’Tis from Dar’s private Frisian stock.”

  Surreptitiously Ruby reached under the table, dumped her ale in the rushes and filled her cup with the red wine. Her hesir companion looked at her oddly, wondering aloud what she did down in the rushes, but she glared him into silence.

  The first cup went straight to Ruby’s head, out to her fingertips and down to her toes. She sipped her second cup more slowly, only gulping larger mouthfuls when she saw Thork doing something particularly distasteful, like touching the girl’s sleeve gently when he asked a question or whispering in her ear when the noise level in the room got too loud. He ignored Ruby totally.

  It was a futile battle, trying to get Thork to marry her, Ruby told herself in self-pity as she finished her second cup, touching her lips in wonder. How did her lips get numb? And her eyelashes felt as if they weighed ten pounds each. But, Lord, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this good.

  As the tables were dismantled and people milled about in groups, waiting for the entertainment, she poured her third drink, feeling a drunken rush of self-confidence. Maybe it wasn’t hopeless, after all. Maybe she should go right up there and demand that Thork marry her. Better yet, maybe she should get a sword and kidnap Thork. Lock him in her room with her for a week, and, guar-an-teed, she’d get a proposal from him or he’d be dead from sexual depletion. She giggled at the thought, getting the attention of her young hesir, who also stood alone.

  “Why, you had wine the whole time!” he complained, noticing the jug at her feet. “What a pig to keep it all to yourself!”

  “Not a pig. A hog. I have legs like a hog’s skin, don’t you know? Before the butchering.” She giggled again, then hiccuped. After handing the young man the almost empty container, she weaved her way through the crowd toward the head of the hall, her half-empty cup of wine held shakily in front of her.

  Dar and all his noble visitors had moved off the dais and were sitting or standing, listening to two young women with harp and lute who sang a soft melody. Ruby got her first close-up look at Thork and choked back her laughter. He wore a burgundy velvet tunic with gold braiding, almost identical to her dress—Dar’s idea of a practical joke, she presumed. Wide gold bracelets gleamed on his tanned upper arms, and a gold pendant on a heavy chain lay against his chest. The hair on one side of his head had been braided and hung off the side of his head and down his back, highlighting the one thunderbolt earring.

  He looks like a bloody Norse god, Ruby thought, and gulped.

  Thork blinked with surprise at their matching clothing, then curled his lips with disgust. He shot an accusing glance at his grandfather who feigned innocence with a shrug. Then Thork stared pointedly at the wine Ruby still sipped as she leaned tipsily against the back of someone’s chair. Anger flashed in his eyes as she raised defiant eyes to his. Thork stood and started to walk purposefully toward her, but Ruby slipped into the crowd and moved to the other side of the room.

  When a visiting jarl rose from his chair to go to the garderobe, Ruby sank wearily into it, holding her chin in her hand. Dar gave her a disapproving look, but Ruby ignored the unspoken message that she was not high enough in their stupid class system to be sitting where she was.

  Thork stood directly across the circle from her, glaring. Having had enough of his anger and rebuffs and orders, Ruby stuck her tongue out at him and thought his eyes would bug out. It felt so good she did it again and tried to look cross-eyed at him, but for some reason her coordination was bogged down, and her eyes just kind of rolled. But she’d succeeded in turning Thork’s face almost purple by now. He would have vaulted the circle of guests if the skald hadn’t started a long lyric poem.

  Under normal circumstances, Ruby might have been interested, but she felt as if she were floating now—a glorious feeling! She let her empty wine cup slip from her fingers to the rushes.

  The skaldic poem ended with a story about some Viking and his precious knife called Fealty and how it had saved him in some battle. “Good Lord! Only a Viking would name a knife, like a pet,” Ruby muttered, and the Viking seated next to her shot her an annoyed frown.

  Everyone congratulated the skald after he finished, asking him questions. In the short lull that followed, one woman guest talked cattily to Aud in a voice loud enough for many around her to hear.

  “I understand your guest from Ivar—the one of the mannish clothing—has a most unusual manner of using a knife.”

  Everyone looked at Ruby. Aud and Dar raised questioning eyes to her. Thork looked as if he would have an apoplectic fit. Well, at least she’d finally piqued his interest.

  Ruby blinked and then hiccuped loudly. She heard Dar guffaw.

  The woman went on with relish, “She shaved her legs today with a knife.”

  Again, everybody looked at Ruby in astonishment.

  “’Tis true, Ruby?” Aud gasped.

  “Where did the thrall get a knife?” Dar wanted to know.

  “I will kill you,” Thork mouthed silently.

  With as much dignity as she could maintain in her inebriated condition, Ruby explained, “It’s no big deal. Really. Women in my country shave their legs all the time. And their underarms. It’s considered unfeminine not to do so.”

  They all gawked at her in disbelief. Several elderly matrons seemed about to have a stroke over the scandalous conversation.

  Oh, hell! She was in deep trouble as it was. She might as well enjoy herself. Besides, she still wanted to get back at Thork for abandoning her the other night to be with Linette.

  “Thork,” she said sweetly, staring him straight in the eyes.

  He refused to answer, incensed at the spectacle she’d created once again.

  “Thork,” she called out louder now. “Do you remember the time you shaved my legs for me?”

  His mouth dropped open.

  Dead silence reigned.

  “It was our tenth wedding anniversary, and we were high on white wine and…and love. You remember, don’t you? It was your idea, so don’t glare at me. You made me stand perfectly still, like this.”

  Ruby stood with her legs slightly parted and almost fell over. She straightened herself by holding on to the back of the chair.

  Aud clamped her hand over her mouth at Ruby’s outrageous conduct. Gyda seemed to be praying. Olaf smiled in appreciation of her daring. And Dar smirked from ear to ear with self-satisfaction, as if he’d planned the whole damned event. The young girl, Elise, was nowhere to be seen. It was probably past her bedtime.

 
“You lathered both my legs with cream and then you shaved them, ever so slowly,” Ruby went on with gusto, “all the way up to here.” She drew a line with her hand at the tops of both thighs.

  Ruby felt fuzzy and disoriented, beginning to realize just how scandalous her behavior was, noticing the strained silence surrounding her. She started to back away as she saw Thork beginning to approach her around the circle of people, his eyes piercing her, his lips a pale line of white-hot anger.

  Thork’s continual anger was really starting to annoy Ruby. Criminey! she decided, I might as well put the icing on the cake. Her eyes narrowed and held his in unspoken challenge.

  “Oh, and did I mention, Thork?” she said ever-so sweetly. “We were both stark naked.”

  Thork gurgled with words that would not come out as all eyes turned on him, but not for long. “Damn you!” he bellowed and lurched across the remaining people separating them. “Warned you were, wench. Over and over you were told what would happen if you pushed me.” Without another word, he vaulted over a chair, picked Ruby up and carried her from the hall and up the steps.

  Ruby was oblivious to the cheering laughter and loud speculation on her fate that followed them out of the hall. She snuggled in Thork’s arms, burrowing her face in his neck, which smelled so sweetly of her own Jack and yet somehow marvelously different. Tomorrow Ruby would worry about her fate. Tonight she was back in Jack’s, no, Thork’s arms, where she belonged, and that was all that mattered.

  “Jack, honey,” Ruby whispered and felt the muscled arms holding her stiffen, “I’ve missed you so much.” Then she hiccuped softly in Thork’s ear.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Your tongue ever outruns your good judgement, woman!” Thork raged, pacing back and forth across his sleeping chamber. He raked his fingers through his hair in agitation as he shot icy glances her way.

  Ruby watched him woozily on raised elbows from the cushiony softness of his massive bed where he’d thrown her in disgust after leaving the great hall. She wished he’d stand still. Her fuzzy tongue got in the way as she tried to speak in her own defense. She pushed the tip of her tongue between her lips to test their numbness, then giggled.

  “You find mirth in this situation?”

  “No…yes.” Ruby tried to sit up, but the bed tilted crazily from side to side. Finally, feeling steadier, she sat upright. “I mean…it’s funny because I feel as if I’ve just been to the dentist. My lips and tongue are numb, and—”

  “Nay! Speak no more mysterious words and allusions to a future life that never was. More than enough have I had of your hints of a life we shared together. It never happened.”

  Thork grabbed Ruby by the forearms, pulled her off the bed and shook her, trying to convince her of his seriousness.

  It sobered Ruby a bit.

  “Okay. Let’s discuss this,” she said, backing away a few steps. “You’re upset because I said you shaved my legs.”

  “Arghh!” Thork threw his arms up in the air. “You do it again. Why can you not be biddable like other women?”

  “Like the gentle little Saxon-Viking girl with the big cow eyes? Isn’t Linette enough for you? Are you robbing the cradle now, too?”

  Thork blinked at Ruby’s fast-changing train of thought, but before he could respond, Ruby continued, “I shouldn’t have said what I did in front of all your guests. I apologize for that. I’m not used to drinking so much wine.”

  Thork rolled his eyes as if that were the understatement of the year.

  “But I didn’t lie. I never lie. You did shave my legs on our tenth wedding anniversary. See,” she said, pulling her gown up to the edge of her panties, displaying the full length of her smooth legs. “You shaved them so they looked just like this.”

  Thork stared at Ruby’s exposed limbs, then sucked in his breath sharply. He seemed unable to speak for several long moments.

  Sensing an advantage, Ruby braced her left hand on the wall and raised her right leg boldly so the toe of her leather shoe rested on his belt brooch. “Touch the skin,” she invited outrageously. “See for yourself what I mean.”

  Ruby saw Thork’s reluctance and knew he feared that if he took this one step he might take others. But he touched her leg lightly, nonetheless, with the fingertips of his left hand, then ran the callused palm from her ankle to the satin sleekness of her thigh and back again.

  He smiled widely.

  “I see why women—and men—of your country might like this practice. The smoothness creates images in a man’s mind of other…practices.” He looked up questioningly. “This dehairing…’tis done in the eastern countries, as well, I hear.” A crafty light flickered in Thork’s pale eyes.

  Geez! First Ivar, then Athelstan, now the Orient. But before Ruby could complain, Thork yanked up on her wobbly left leg with lightning swiftness and caught the back of her waist with his other hand. Quickly she grabbed his shoulders for ballast. In that split second, Thork somehow maneuvered her so that he held her with legs wrapped around his waist, hands anchored at his neck. Then he backed her up against the wall.

  Dazed by the quickness of Thork’s movements and the carnal position she found herself in, Ruby could only blink at Thork questioningly. No longer angry with her, Thork held her eyes in a glittering, promising glance, more intimate than a caress. She could not look away.

  “For a month and more you have teased and taunted me with promises of delights we have shared in the past. What say you now?” he asked in a tightly controlled, low voice.

  Holding her eyes, Thork began to undo the shoulder clasps of her outer gown. Ruby wanted to ask if he would marry her again or if he’d accepted the fact that she might have to leave, but, instead, she decided to follow Aud’s advice for patience.

  Ruby licked her lips nervously. She had to have made love with this man a thousand times in the past twenty years, but it seemed all new now. He was her husband and yet a stranger at the same time.

  “Do you still insist we share a past?” he asked hoarsely.

  Ruby scrutinized Thork closely, trying to see the differences, not the similarities, between him and Jack. It was hard. “I think you and I may very well make our own history tonight,” she evaded.

  Thork traced her jaw with a forefinger questioningly. “What is it about you, sweetling, that draws me so? Truly, in another time we could have been heartmates.”

  Ruby’s heart melted at his softly spoken words of love. Yes, love, because this was probably as close to a declaration of love she could ever expect from this man.

  “Thork, I love you,” Ruby whispered.

  “Shush,” he said, putting his fingers over her mouth. “No lies. No promises betwixt us. Just let us enjoy what we can give each other now and let it be enough.”

  Still holding Ruby with her legs wrapped around his waist, Thork undid the brooches of Ruby’s gown and pulled the tunic and the underchemise off her shoulders and arms until they bunched at her waistline.

  Thork studied her wispy, black lace bra and smiled appreciatively. Leaning down, he flicked the tip of his tongue across the peaks of each scantily covered breast, creating the hardened peaks he wanted. Then he took one lacy peak in his mouth and suckled.

  A swift, hot rush of blood lodged in the center of Ruby’s femininity. She moaned and heard Thork chuckle in satisfaction while continuing his sweet torture.

  “Ah, Ruby, ’tis as sweet as I remembered. Their taste has lingered in my mouth for days. Truly, you bewitch me.”

  Ruby could not speak as Thork leaned back, not waiting for an answer, and looked at the breast he’d been working on, admiring it through the wet transparency of the fabric, visible even in the flickering candlelight. Then he moved to her other breast. At the first sharp tug of his lips, Ruby jolted and bucked against him.

  “Thork, wait. Let me down,” Ruby begged. She didn’t like the helplessness of her position. She wanted to participate, not be served in this manner.

  “Nay. Not yet,” he rasped out, trying
to figure out how to undo the back clasp of her bra. Without his hands holding her upright, Ruby was forced to hold on to him tighter with her arm and thigh muscles. Finally the flimsy undergarment loosened in his hand, and he pulled it off her arms.

  “Put me down,” Ruby pleaded again, watching while he examined her sensitized breasts with his eyes and fingertips. His beautiful eyes glazed over with passion, and Ruby yearned to show her love for this man—whoever he was.

  “Nay, I will not release you. This night I have a plan. Nay, a master plan.” He grinned mischievously.

  Master plan? Ruby would kill Ella. The gossip addict must have told someone about her plan to trap Thork.

  “Wouldst thou like to hear my master plan?” He jiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  Ruby nodded hesitantly, pleased with this playful side of Thork.

  “Tonight you will have many…many…of those orgasms you spoke of so eloquently to Brynhil and her women.”

  Ruby gulped.

  “The first will come here in my arms. I will not let you down until it happens,” he promised seductively.

  Ruby’s thighs spasmed at his words and she felt a gush of dampness at the apex of her legs. Thork’s lips turned up at the corners and he looked down as if sensing what had happened, surely having felt the tremors in her legs at his waist.

  Still holding her with legs wrapped around his waist, Thork adjusted their bodies so that he could undo her belt. Reaching to her ankles, he raised first her gown, then her underchemise all the way up and over her head. She now wore only Brynhil’s emerald, her panties and a pair of soft leather shoes. Leaning back, Thork positioned her so that her shoulders were still braced against the wall and her arms extended to his shoulders. With his large left hand holding her buttocks for balance, he put the back of his right middle finger against the dampness of her silk panties, then looked up in pleased astonishment.

  “For me, sweetling?” he asked in a raw, low voice.

  Something moved in Ruby there and she felt her face flame. She could only nod mutely.