Page 28 of The Reluctant Viking

“I was not naked,” Ruby said indignantly. “I wore the lingerie I designed for my own company. My models wear it in fashion shows all the time. I was not naked.”

“Fashion shows? Lingerie? Be that what you call those flimsy undergarments you wear? And your own business! By the saints and all the Norse gods, your stories get more and more far-fetched.”

Ruby raised her head proudly and informed Thork, “My company is called Sweet Nothings. We sell custom lingerie in seventeen countries. USA Tomorrow magazine listed me among the top twenty up-and-coming business-women last year.”

“I give you this, wench, you tell a fine tale. I could almost believe you. Almost!”

“I don’t care what you believe anymore. All I want to do is go home.”

“Nay! That you will not!” Thork barked. The thought of Ruby leaving caused him sudden inexplicable pain. At first he could not speak over the lump in his throat. Finally he ground out, “Never are you to leave this house without guard again. You are to do nothing without permission, not so much as a walk to the river at the end of Olaf’s property. Is that understood?”

He grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her for emphasis, stopping only when the sheet slipped perilously close to the tips of her breasts. He jerked his hands back as if scalded and turned away to get his harsh breathing under control while Ruby adjusted herself once again.

“I understand, all right, but let me tell you something,” Ruby asserted, rubbing her arms peevishly. “In my country, and in my time, we don’t punish people unjustly. The only thing Gudrod and I were guilty of was carelessness. The crime didn’t warrant the punishment.”

Thork stiffened and his face flushed.

Suddenly weary of the whole sorry mess, Thork sat on the bed next to Ruby. She scuttled clumsily away from him toward the wall, clutching her sheet awkwardly. He took her right hand in his and would not let her pull it away. He twined her fingers with his, and closed his eyes briefly at the rightness and perfect fit of her small hand in his. When he opened his eyes, he gazed at her pale, apprehensive face. She no longer tried to pull her hand from his grasp. Could she feel their two pulses beating a perfect counterpoint in their embracing palms?

“I did not want to hurt you, sweetling,” Thork explained softly, “but I will not apologize for my anger where my son’s endangerment is concerned. Know this, though, I take no pleasure in the punishment of women, especially not you, even though your treatment was not cruel.”

Thork felt her pulse jump at the words especially not you, but instead of treading the dangerous waters of questioning his warm phrasing, she chose to jump on his other words. “Not cruel? Why, you bastard! You can’t even apologize without being arrogant.”

Thork released her fingers before he stood, but not before giving the inside of her wrist a light kiss, which caused her to inhale sharply. “’Twas not an apology I was giving you, but an explanation. If you had obeyed orders, there would have been no problem.”

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing, buddy, when the time is right, I will be returning to my home—and gladly.”

The prospect of Ruby leaving—before he’d had a chance to unravel her mystery and the seductive web she’d woven around him—was untenable. But enough of attempting to placate her! “Try you to escape and ropes will bind you till my return. And keep this in mind, as well—questionable guest you may consider yourself, but ’tis more my prisoner you are. You would do best not to rile me further.”

He took her back to Gyda’s house then and determined to leave the city immediately and put the foolish wench from his mind.

Ruby slept that night in her own bedchamber in Gyda’s house, where she was treated coolly, but with the respect due an unwelcome guest. When she woke the next morning, everyone was up, busily performing their assigned chores when Ruby walked down the steps.

“Help yourself,” Gyda offered, indicating cold food laid out on a side table. Ruby put a thick slice of rare roast beef on a hunk of unleavened white bread and sipped a cup of watered mead handed her by the servant, Adeleve.

Ruby pulled a stool over to watch as Gyda and Adeleve, worked over the bubbling cauldrons on the cooking fires. Sweet aromas of peaches and strawberries and elderberries permeated the room. They would fill the flaky pastry dough being rolled by Bodhil, the other servant, on a nearby board.

Ruby commented dryly, “Knowing Thork’s sweet tooth, it’s too bad you couldn’t put a bunch of these peach things on board ship when he goes a-Viking.”

“How did you know he likes peaches?” Gyda asked in surprise.

Ruby shrugged. “He’s my husband.”

Gyda and Adeleve stopped working and gaped at her.

“Nay,” Gyda finally said. “How could it be so?”

“No one believes me. I won’t even try with you, but, I assure you, in my time we are married, and we have two sons who look identical to Eirik and Tykir.”

“Your time?” a wide-eyed Gyda inquired.

“The king and Thork warned me not to talk about it anymore.”

Gyda laid her wood ladle down and looked Ruby directly in the eye. “What did they tell you not to discuss?” It seemed Gyda was not quite the obedient wife she would have everyone believe.

“That I come from the future, the year nineteen hundred and ninety-four.”

“Sweet Jesus!” Gyda exclaimed and made the sign of the cross three times.