Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 01]

by The Reluctant Viking

  “Hah! I think Sigtrygg is a pig who has this fascination with decapitation,” Ruby exclaimed inmpulsively, then clamped a hand over her mouth, realizing how inappropriate her comment must sound. But the men laughed heartily and the women giggled in appreciation of her vehemence against a man they did not admire.

  “Tell me more predictions of my family,” Hrolf demanded, while a servant handed Ruby a cup of sweet wine. Ruby realized that Hrolf, like King Athelstan, thought she was a seeress, a person with talents to foresee the future.

  “I don’t remember much about all the children and grandchildren,” she ventured carefully, deciding not to force the issue of time-travel, “but I do know about the direct line. You have a son, William Longsword, who will expand your duchy a great deal by adding Cotentin, or Cherbourg—”

  Everyone pivoted to glance at the young man who stood behind Poppa’s chair, then back to Ruby. The teenager’s eyes widened at her mentioning his name.

  “—and William will have a son, Richard I, called The Fearless, who will have a son, Richard II, called The Good, and he will have a son Robert, alternately called The Magnificent or The Devil. Robert’s only child will be William the Conqueror.”

  The charged silence that followed her words told Ruby nothing. She didn’t know if she’d said the right or wrong thing, if she’d gone too far, or not far enough.

  Finally Hrolf exhaled loudly. “Well, well, well! What a fine mess we have here. Clearly, girl, you do not come from the future. ’Tis impossible, but ’tis equally clear you are of my blood. The resemblance to my sister cannot be mistaken, despite that short haircut.” He examined her hair closer. “Are you perchance diseased? Is that why it has been chopped so?”

  Thork choked on his wine and Selik bit his lip to hide a grin.

  “No, it’s the style in my country,” Ruby said, raising her chin proudly.

  “Where might that be? No, do not tell me,” Hrolf laughed, holding up a hand to halt her response. “No more am I in the humor for fantasies of the future this day.”

  He turned on Thork and asked stiffly, “What relationship do you share with my granddaughter?” His emphasis on the word of kinship seemed to give official stamp to Ruby’s acceptance at his court, if the sharp looks exchanged by his family were any indication.

  For a long moment, Thork’s eyes held hers as if trying to come up with answers he hadn’t yet resolved himself. Then he looked Hrolf directly in the eye. “She is my woman.”

  Ruby’s heart leapt joyfully in hope.

  “Are you married?” Hrolf persisted.

  “Nay. I pledged my troth to another afore I left Northumbria,” Thork admitted, and then explained the circumstances leading up to his reluctant betrothal.

  Hrolf nodded. “And would you marry Ruby, too?”

  Thork glanced at Ruby again, obviously not wanting to speak publicly of private matters, but he finally acknowledged, “Nay, I have taken on too many Christian ways to have more than one wife. In truth, I would prefer none. I will not forsake Jomsviking.”

  Ruby could feel the color drain from her face at the familiar words he spoke—cruelly cutting words, despite her having heard them before.

  Seeing the pain on Ruby’s face, Poppa spoke for the first time. “And what of Ruby? Do you have no feelings for her? Do you love her?”

  Thork’s jaw clenched tight. He clearly didn’t want to answer Poppa’s questions but knew his silence would be considered rude by Hrolf.

  “What has love to do with it?” he evaded.

  Surprised, Poppa pursued the subject. “’Tis obvious to me you care for the girl. Wouldst you abandon her here when you go on to Jomsborg?”

  Once again, Thork’s jaw tensed at the personal questions. His troubled eyes locked with Ruby’s, trying to communicate his apology for this public airing of their problems. She saw him flex his fingers tensely before answering, “I would prefer to take her with me to Jomsborg when I leave, but it will be her choice to come with me, or to stay here…if she is welcome.”

  Ruby sensed how hard those words were for Thork to speak, and loved him for his honesty of emotion.

  But Poppa spoiled the moment by pressing him angrily, “As bedmate? You would ask her to accompany you with a status little higher than a thrall?”

  Thork looked at Ruby bleakly before asserting defiantly, “’Tis for Ruby and me to discuss, in private. ’Tis our concern and no one else’s.”

  Hrolf took exception to Thork’s words. “Nay, that is where you err. When you brought her to my court for my acceptance as family, she became my business. A good marriage I would have for her, not a loveless arrangement with a man who could leave her in a thrice, if he so chose.”

  Seeing the angry rebellion in Thork’s eyes and his clenched fists as he rose from his chair, Hrolf declared unequivocally, “No more for today, my friend. We will discuss it again later.”

  Ruby stood in horrified silence, listening while they discussed her as if she were a piece of meat with no rights to determine her own destiny. Did Hrolf mean she would have no choice in the decision to go with Thork or to stay? Had she jumped from one frying pan into another?

  “Take Ruby to a chamber near ours, Poppa, so that she may rest and prepare for dinner,” Hrolf ordered, then told Thork in a tone of voice that brooked no argument, “You and Selik may share a chamber in the wing where my hesirs sleep.”

  Ruby looked helplessly at Thork, whose eyes held hers accusingly for a few long moments. Did he think she had planned this? After all they’d shared on their trip from Jorvik, how could he doubt her love, or that she wanted to be with him? Despite her tear-filled eyes, he turned his back on her with icy disdain.

  An inexplicable feeling of emptiness overcame Ruby, followed by a foreboding that her future with Thork was in true peril.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ruby was treated like a newfound pet during the following week—given special tours of the castle and a newly built cathedral, dressed in the finest clothing, adorned with jewels, accepted as a long-lost loved one come home. At night, she sat at the high table with Hrolf’s family and favored guests. Afterwards, they cajoled her into storytelling and singing until she pleaded exhaustion, then couldn’t sleep for want of Thork.

  She was miserable.

  Hrolf and his court conspired to keep her apart from Thork. They were given no opportunity to speak in private, let alone touch or kiss or share a bed. Ruby ached for him across the distance of the hall, unable to bear the accusing, wounded looks with which he seared her. He seemed to think the separation pleased her, that she’d used him to achieve her ultimate end—the safety of Hrolf’s protection.

  Three nights before, Thork had pushed his way through the retainers who surrounded the Norman ruler, demanding, “By your leave, Hrolf, I would speak to Ruby in private.” Ruby could see how the polite words grated on Thork when he really wanted to bellow at Hrolf for his underhanded tactics.

  “Later. Later,” Hrolf had coolly evaded, asking, “What think you of King Athelstan’s buildup of fortified burhs?”

  Then last night, Thork had tried again, but Hrolf had deflected him by urging, “Come, tell me of the goods you carry on your ships. Mayhap you have some items I need for my troops, or trinkets Poppa would cherish.”

  Finally, tonight, Thork didn’t even try. He drank heavily, watching Ruby with hawklike eyes, surely taking in the fact that she’d lost weight and had dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. Ruby yearned to go to Thork, to assure him of her love, but two guards posted near her at all times thwarted such efforts.

  Observing Thork’s excessive drinking and the insolent glares he cast toward him, his host, Hrolf, slammed his goblet on the table and directed a servant icily, “Tell Harald’s fleabitten get that I wish to speak with him—if he is not too besotted with my ale.”

  Despite the large amount of alcohol he must have consumed, Thork carried himself with rigid dignity to the dais, pointedly ignoring Ruby who sat nearby. His bloo
dshot eyes spoke of sleepless nights and unspoken hurts. Ruby stood to go to him, but a guard placed a firm, forbidding hand on her shoulder, pressing her back to her seat. Thork’s impassive face showed no emotion, but Ruby noticed his fists clenching and unclenching where he held them behind his back in a seemingly casual pose. The movement sent ripples up the corded muscles of his bare arms.

  “Didst the misbegotten whelp of Rognvald wish to address the misbegotten whelp of Harald?” Thork snarled at Hrolf, throwing the insult in the Norman ruler’s message back in his face.

  Thork’s arrogant stance, as well as the foolhardy words, infuriated Hrolf. He stood angrily, dwarfing everyone around him with his size and temper. Only Poppa’s hand on his arm kept him from attacking Thork with his bare hands. Instead, he sat back down and scrutinized Thork with flashing eyes. “When dost thou leave for Jomsborg, Thork?” Hrolf inquired through tense white lips, his tone making it rudely apparent that Thork had worn his welcome thin. “Surely thou dost not worry over Ruby’s safety still?” His lips curled with contempt before he added, “I thought Jomsvikings were not permitted to leave their fortified palaces for more than three days at a time.”

  Thork curled his lips, as well, mimicking Hrolf, and answered in a surly voice, “I had permission to conduct my grandfather’s business and to handle my own trading concerns, but, yea, I will depart soon. But first, I will speak to Ruby.”

  “To ask her to accompany you to Jomsborg?”

  “Yea.”

  “I will not permit it.”

  “You will not permit it!” Ruby gasped aloud. “Since when did I hand over control of my life?”

  “Hold thy tongue, wench, or leave the hall,” Hrolf told her.

  “She has a say in this,” Thork contended. The warm look he gave her showed his obvious pleasure in her having stood up to her imposing relative.

  “Nay, she does not. As my granddaughter, I would have her wed, secure in the bonds of matrimony.”

  “You talk from both sides of your face, Hrolf. For many years Poppa sat at your side without the marriage ties.”

  Hrolf stood to his full height, livid with rage, and his retainers drew their weapons. “No man speaks disparagingly of Poppa. In the eyes of the Christian rites I took at the Treaty of St. Clair-sur-Epte, the king’s daughter Gisela became my wife. Even then, I considered Poppa my true wife, and I married her as soon as Gisela died.”

  Sincere regret immediately flushed Thork’s face, and he hastened to assure Hrolf, “I apolgize for my inept words, Hrolf. There are many things for which I would heartily insult you, but ne’er would I slander Poppa. I merely meant to say that the more danico and the taking of mistresses is practiced widely by you and others without impunity.”

  Hrolf gave a grudging nod of acceptance to Thork’s backhanded apology. He sat back down and tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the table.

  “You may have my granddaughter only on the marriage bed,” he finally said, “and that is my final word. One last bit of advice—I would suggest you depart on the morrow afore bad deeds, as well as words, pass betwixt us.”

  Thork held Ruby’s eyes questioningly. She was stunned by the finality of Hrolf’s command, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. Before she could say anything, Thork turned and stormed from the hall, with Selik following after him.

  “Please let me speak to him,” Ruby pleaded with Hrolf. “Just talk. That’s all.”

  “Nay!” Hrolf growled, still angered by Thork’s words. “’Tis best to end it thus.”

  Ruby ran from the hall in tears. What if Thork left Normandy without seeing her again? She had so much to say to him. Would she go with him if she could? Probably. No, actually, Ruby wasn’t sure. She needed first to know Thork’s feelings and what their relationship would be if she went to Jomsborg with him.

  Ruby never would have been able to accept the role of “other woman” in her future life with Jack. Could she now? Oh, Lord! Ruby cried inwardly as the questions hammered away inside her head.

  Poppa followed Ruby into her bedchamber and comforted her, “’Tis really for the best, my child. Believe me, I know well the pain of living with a man you love without the sanction of the church.”

  “Would you have rather lived without him?”

  Poppa smiled. “I did not love Hrolf at the start. He killed my father, Count Berengar of Bayeau, and took me captive. ’Twas later I grew to love him.”

  “How could you?” Ruby asked, but, at the same time, she remembered Thork’s cruelty in imprisoning her in Olaf’s barn for five days and yet she still loved him.

  “Hrolf is a hard man. Ne’er doubt it,” Poppa explained patiently, “but he is a just one, as well, and an outstanding leader. When we came to Normandy, Hrolf instilled the old Norse laws, especially those relating to the respect for a man’s property. So much did he want a peaceable land that he ordered his people to leave their valuable farm tools out at night, tempting thievery. If anything was stolen, he said he would be responsible.”

  “Oh, Poppa, what has this to do with me and Thork?”

  Poppa smiled indulgently and went on, “There was this farmer’s wife at Lonpaon who hid her husband’s plow, then asked for compensation for thievery. When Hrolf discovered the truth, he hung her, but, more important, he killed her husband, as well, for not controlling his mate better.”

  “Are you warning me that Hrolf means what he says about me and Thork?”

  “Yea, but I also ask that you remember he does what he considers fair.” Poppa shrugged and smiled enigmatically. “Mayhap it will all work out for the best.”

  Ruby didn’t see how that could be. For hours she wrestled with all the questions swirling in her brain, unable to come up with answers that would satisfy her heart, as well as her morality. Finally she cried herself to sleep but tossed restlessly, not knowing if Thork would be gone when she awakened in the morning. In the middle of the night, she dreamt of him.

  His feather-soft caresses swept her from neck to toe. Her breasts swelled and ached under the soft, circular caresses of his callused palms. The wet tip of his tongue traced the crevices of her ear and plunged inside, then repeated its sensuous path again and again. Soft, wet lips suckled her breasts, and practiced fingers teased her nether folds until they opened and swelled for him.

  So lifelike was the dream that Ruby could smell the masculine scent of his warm skin, and his lips tasted of raging passion and virile man. Was it Jack or Thork? Whoever! To Ruby, he was the consummate dream lover.

  When the firm lips played their sweet music on Ruby’s mouth, entreating her to open for his more sensual assault, she tried to moan, but the sound was caught by hungry kisses that alternated between gentle coaxing and deep, ravaging plunges.

  “I love you, heartling.”

  The softly whispered, precious words drifted on the air and penetrated Ruby’s dreams. She awakened immediately.

  Ruby found Thork lying over her, naked. She leaned into his long fingers which gently stroked wisps of hairs back off her forehead. Her first reaction, though, was fear for his safety. “Thork, are you crazy? Hrolf will kill you if he finds you here.”

  “Where?” He grinned and buried himself in her dream-readied sheath with one long stroke. “Here?”

  Ruby gasped. The exquisite pleasure of the hot melding of their two bodies caused shudders to ripple across her skin like the fluttering of a million birds’ wings. Purring, she pulled Thork closer by wrapping her thighs around his waist.

  Braced on his elbows with head reared back over tautly stretched neck muscles, Thork held himself immobile inside her body’s tight clasp, unable to move. Through gritted teeth, he finally asked with a devilish laugh, “Shall I leave?”

  “Don’t…you…dare!” Ruby warned hoarsely and arched her hips, welcoming him with all the love and unsatisfied yearning she’d built up during the past week of separation. Threading her fingers through his long hair, she pulled his face down to hers and moved her lips back and forth until sh
e’d shaped his mouth for her gentle kiss.

  “I love you, Thork. Always. I’ve missed you so.”

  With her soft words, Thork lost control and plummeted her with his deeply felt, unspoken emotions. “Rube…oh, sweet…oh, Lord, oh, Lord…let me…please…aaargh!” he murmured disjointedly until he reached his soul-shattering climax, taking Ruby over the edge of eternity with him on a flight of pure bliss.

  When they lay spent and gasping for breath in each other’s arms, Ruby traced the silky hairs on his chest with a forefinger and whispered against his lips, “I thought I was dreaming of you at first, Thork. I thought you said you loved me, and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world. That’s what awakened me.” Questioningly, she raised her eyes to his face, now relaxed in the afterglow of their sweet loving. She saw conflicting emotions battle in his tense facial muscles, even as he drew her closer in the crook of his arm.

  For several long moments, Thork said nothing. Ruby could feel a nervous pulse in his neck beat erratically. His heart thundered under her palm, still racing from the excitement of their lovemaking.

  He inhaled deeply and began to speak, running his palm caressingly over her shoulder as he spoke, “I am not sure I believe in love or that I am capable of such an emotion anymore.” He stopped and turned her face so that he could see her eyes. He continued in a thickened voice, “Yea, I said the words, but they just slipped out. I do not even know if I meant them.” He grinned sheepishly and admitted, “The words did feel good in the saying, though.”

  Tears of joy filled Ruby’s eyes and misted her vision. “Oh, Thork, I love you, too.” She rolled over on top of him then, bracing her arms on either side of his face so she could see his face more clearly. With a quick brush of her lips, she urged, “Will you say the words again? Oh, please, honey, I need to hear you say them.”

  Holding her eyes, Thork lifted her above him and lowered her onto his manhood, which had hardened again on their soft caresses and sweet words. When she straddled him, forging their bodies as one with her heat, Thork rasped out, “I love you, sweetling.”