Page 108 of The Reluctant Viking

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.”