Page 25 of The Reluctant Viking

Ruby nodded.

“Are you my mother?”

Ruby’s heart lurched and almost broke at his revealing words.

“He asks everybody that question,” Tyra interrupted with a disgusted snort. “The answer is ever the same. He has no mother.”

Ruby knew that Tyra didn’t intend to be mean, but her childish cruelty hurt Tykir, nonetheless, as evidenced by the tears that welled in his eyes. Ruby put a gentle hand on Tyra’s shoulder and chastised her softly, “That’s not true, Tyra. Everybody has a mother.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts.”

Ruby couldn’t help herself then. She folded Tykir into her arms and pressed his head against her breast in comfort. Thork definitely had a lot to answer for in the neglect of this child—both children, actually.

“Perhaps we better start back now,” Ruby advised. “We’ve been gone longer than I expected.”

The three of them jogged back slowly, with the children answering all of Ruby’s questions about the intriguing sights they passed. When they neared the house, Ruby saw Gudrod and an obviously furious Thork and Olaf approaching while Gyda and the girls stood outside the front door wringing their hands in worry.

“Tyra, Tykir, go into the house—immediately,” Olaf ordered coldly. They both obeyed without question, although Tykir looked back over his shoulder at Ruby fearfully.

Grabbing Ruby’s forearm roughly, Thork pulled Ruby toward the house. Neighbors stood outside on the street watching the spectacle.

“You don’t have to drag me. I can walk.”

“Yea, but will you be able to when I am done with you?” Thork’s voice shook with anger.

“You wouldn’t dare touch me.”

“Would you like to make another wager, wench?” Thork jeered icily.

Ruby sensed he was dead serious. His fingers held her arm in a pincerlike, painful grip. She tried to shrug away unsuccessfully. Ruby tried to fathom the stormy emotions raging behind Thork’s piercing eyes. What happened to the man who’d looked at her so warmly last night at the dinner table, who’d smiled at her children’s stories, who’d pinched her playfully before he left? Was he as unpredictable in his moods as the volatile King Sigtrygg?

“Warned were you repeatedly about attempting to run away. And you dared involve Olaf’s daughter and my son, besides!” he hissed low enough so no one could overhear.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We were jogging.”

“Ridiculous am I? We shall see who laughs when the whip blisters your back from head to toe.”

Ruby lifted her head defiantly, but her hands shook in fear. Surely this man who resembled her gentle husband could never hurt her. She glanced sideways at his rigid profile, seeing no softening of his anger, only a tightening of his clenched jaw.

When they entered the yard, Olaf ordered Gyda to take all the children inside. “Punish Tyra and Tykir, or I will do it for you and the two will be the worse for it,” he told his wife.

Gyda didn’t even flinch.

“No!” Ruby protested to Olaf. “Don’t harm them. They didn’t do anything wrong. We just went as far as your farm. It was my fault.”

“Nay, they know the rules. Neither is to leave this house without permission—ever!”

Then her other words seemed to sink in for Olaf and Thork.

“The farm! Do you know how unsafe it is for children to wander so far?” Thork exclaimed. “Our enemies abound. The Saxons, or Ivar, would love to get the hated King Harald’s grandson for ransom, bastards or naught.” Thork lowered his voice so that no one could overhear his acknowledgment of his sons. He raked her scornfully with his glittering blue eyes, then added, “But then, mayhap this was all part of your plan.”

Thork continued to pull Ruby around the house and toward the barn, with Gudrod and Olaf trailing behind them. When they entered the dark, steamy barn, Olaf told Gudrod in a clipped voice, “Gather your belongings.”

“But, master—”

“Do not dare to beg for mercy, or offer useless explanations,” Olaf said icily.