Page 51 of The Reluctant Viking

Ruby couldn’t bear to watch this cruelty and fled blindly from the room. Heading toward her sleeping chamber, Ruby staggered, losing her way in the misty shroud of her tears.

Thork had killed a man with his own hands! His sword dripped another human being’s blood—not in the heat of self-defense, but cold, emotionless rage.

She didn’t know this man! How could she have thought she did?

Ruby pushed open the next door, thinking it was hers, and immediately saw her mistake. A naked Linette lay sleeping in the middle of a massive bed. The room was as large as Linette’s but starkly masculine with heavy carved bedstead, chests and chairs before a cold fireplace.

The hairs on the back of Ruby’s neck prickled, and, like falling dominoes, the ominous sensation flickered down her spine to her toes, up to the top of her head and out to her fingertips. Ruby’s eyes flew desperately around the room, and her heart lurched in recognition of the dark tunic and mantle Thork had worn the day before.

It was Thork’s sleeping chamber. And Linette had slept here with him last night.

Ruby felt as if someone had kicked her in the stomach. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow in her subconscious she must have hoped that Thork had put on the spectacle with Linette yesterday for her benefit. What a fool she was! Ruby sobbed miserably and turned to flee.

“Who goes there? What do you in Thork’s bedchamber?” Linette screeched as she sat up groggily, pulling a sheet over her naked breasts. “Are you the bothersome thrall Thork brought from Jorvik? Do you spy here, too?” Her sultry eyes narrowed viciously. “Or mayhap you sneak into Thork’s private chamber to poison his wine.”

This was all too much for Ruby.

“Why, you ignorant bimbo…,” Ruby started to berate Linette, then waved her hands in disgust. What was the use! She swiveled and ran from the shrieking Linette.

“Come back here, you ugly wench, or I will have you beaten,” Linette threatened to Ruby’s retreating back. “Disobey me, will you? Just wait, thrall, you will learn to heed your betters.”

Ruby didn’t care what they did to her. Her eyes had been opened that morning, and she didn’t think she could be hurt any more than she already was.

In her chamber, Ruby’s body shook with wild weeping. She wept for the brutality she’d witnessed in the bailey. She wept for Thork’s “adultery” with another woman. Then a long-delayed reaction to Jack’s desertion set in. The pain of her upcoming divorce racked her, as well as the loss of her old life and exile to this cruel, foreign land.

Ruby finally cried herself out and realized that her binge of self-pity had jump-started another reaction. She was angry. Who did these people think they were—Thork, or Jack, or Linette, or the whole bunch of stupid Vikings—to trod over her roughshod?

I am Ruby Jordan. I am not going to sit down and die. I am a survivor. I will get through this nightmare.

Ruby couldn’t believe her sojourn in this time warp was a permanent one. All she had to do was stop making waves and wait out her time here, she reasoned. She had no one—absolutely no one—on whom she could depend. She knew that for certain now.

Kinship with the Duke of Normandy was her strongest protection. She must convince these people that he was, in fact, her “grandfather” so they wouldn’t dare harm her. It would be impossible, though, if she kept letting her emotions get in the way.

Face it, girl, you were starting to fall in love with the damn Viking.

Ruby curled up in a ball on her little bed and slept away her weariness from the trip and the mental anguish she’d suffered that morning. She awakened several hours later, thankful that no one had disturbed her. They were probably too busy killing people, Ruby thought, her lips curling in disgust.

Pouring the entire pitcher of water into the bowl, Ruby gave herself an all-over wash with a square of linen and soft soap. Then she searched her new Viking wardrobe for something presentable to wear down to the great hall for dinner. She chose a cream-colored velvet tunic with dark green braiding to be worn over a jade, long-sleeved chemise. Gyda had been generous in allowing her to alter clothes that no longer suited Astrid. Over her neck, she slid the magnificent emerald Byrnhil had given her, then realized she had forgotten to return Thork’s dragon brooches. With absolutely no guilt, she pinned them on the shoulders of her garment, vowing to keep them until asked for their return. Maybe she would never give them back.

The three girls came in, talking excitedly until they saw Ruby, and then they turned strangely silent. Ruby helped them find more water and to dress, all the while puzzled by their aloof attitudes.

“What has happened? What have I done now?”

The girls looked at each other sheepishly but wouldn’t answer. The only thing Ruby could think of was that Linette was causing trouble.

Well, so be it, Ruby thought. It was her against the Vikings, it seemed. All of them! Actually, it fit in with her new plan to form no attachments with these people.

They went down to the crowded hall together, then parted. Ruby went to the end of the table, well below the salt, hoping to be as inconspicuous as possible, while the girls joined their parents closer to the dais where Dar, Aud, Thork and Linette sat with several hesirs and their wives whom Ruby hadn’t met.

Ruby knew immediately that some new trouble had landed at her door. Everyone turned from her coldly.

Ruby ate in peace, ignored by the lowly hesir at her side. She hadn’t eaten since her meager breakfast and was famished. But a clock ticked in her head the whole time. She knew it was only a matter of time before she would be informed of her latest crime.

Ella, her Rhoda-like acquaintance, gave her the first clue, whispering in Ruby’s ear, “The prisoner confessed,” as she filled cups of ale along the table. Ruby looked up sharply, then realized that Ella didn’t want to be seen speaking to her. Ella fussed, stacking some empty wooden bowls in front of her, then murmured hastily, “They came from Ivar. Some traitor in our midst informed Ivar of the traveling route.” With those words, Ella left, carrying a load of empty trenchers to the kitchen.

Ruby glanced quickly to Thork, wounded once again, even though she’d vowed not to care about him or his people. How could he think she would hurt Dar? When Thork stared down at her in stony censure, Ruby’s heart dropped. He thought just that.

Thork had watched Ruby enter the great hall before the meal, shaken by the day’s information and renewed in his determination to keep his distance from the mysterious wench.