He was biting into his third peach as he entered the great hall a short time later and caught Ruby watching him. She smiled tentatively at him. He turned away rudely, not about to give her any encouragement.
Throughout the meal, however, he could not help glancing her way down the long length of the tables which separated them. She wore the burgundy gown again, the one she had worn yestereve.
The wench had somehow become near gorgeous in his eyes, even with that silly short hair. What had she called him? Drop-dead gorgeous. Yea, that was what she was. He liked the phrasing and rolled it on his tongue silently. He knew his fellow hesirs did not share his appreciation for Ruby’s beauty, that they found her too slim, too mannish, too coarse-tongued. To him, she seemed damned nigh perfect.
He felt his half-erection come full bloom and swore aloud, then apologized’ to the cow-eyed maid who gasped beside him at his vulgarity. Thor’s blood! Elise was beautiful. Why had he thought of her as cow-eyed? Because Ruby had referred to her as such, that was why. Thork grimaced. He could not get the bloody wench out of his thoughts.
Thork considered taking Linette back into his bed to appease his raging lust but decided that would be unfair to Linette. She deserved the marriage his grandfather had arranged, and he would do nothing to jeopardize her future. Perhaps he would go to the pond again after the meal to cool his hot blood.
Thork sipped his wine thoughtfully throughout dinner and the endless entertainment that followed as his mind drifted, preoccupied with all he needed to do the next few days before the Althing. He was called jarringly back to the present when he heard Dar ask Ruby to sing a song for them.
“Oh, no, please, not tonight,” Ruby begged off.
“I insist,” his grandfather said, not unkindly.
Ruby balked, and Dar stared her down.
“Just one song then,” she conceded.
She strummed the lute, bemused, apparently trying to pick an appropriate song for the crowd, which was still somewhat hostile after the scandalous show she had put on the night before.
She kept her eyes averted from his, probably thinking he would insult her in front of the guests. Mayhap he would. First he would wait and see if she pulled one of her usual stunts.
“I sang this song for you before and told you it was my husband’s favorite…”
Thork stopped his cup in midair as he was raising it to his lips. She looked directly at him, then turned away quickly.
“…but tonight I dedicate it to another man who, when the winter nights seem long and lonely, will be able to think of this song and any special… memories he may have created with a woman he might have loved… and lost.” Her voice wavered at the end. She sang “Help Me Make It Through the Night” in a husky voice that did not stray off key even once, as it usually did. The enthralled people leaned forward trying to hear all the whispery words. When she finished, Ruby bowed her head slightly in response to the congratulations the people showered on her, declined to sing another and walked stiffly out of the hall and up to her tower room—without once looking at Thork.
Thork’s heart felt like the lead anchor on his ship. He closed his eyes wearily as the entertainment went on around him. How would he ever make it through the night, let alone the next week? Could he resist the overwhelming urge to make love with Ruby? And if he did take her to his bed, would that cure him of this raging fever in his blood? Somehow, he misdoubted it.
When he opened his eyes, he saw that Dar studied him speculatively. Then he nodded as if he had made some decision. Thork did not trust his grandfather one whit and wondered what he churned now in his devious head.
* * *
Ruby got up at dawn the next day, anxious to begin her sewing tasks. She worked the entire day and completed the sexy garment by midafternoon, having taken only one break to go to the garderobe and grab a bite to eat.