Thor’s blood! Not Tykir, too!
His eyes narrowed. It was Ruby’s doing, he was sure. She was turning his family and his life upside down. “Selik, get the hell back to the practice field and take the rest of these milksops with you,” Thork yelled.
Selik jumped guiltily.
Then Thork smiled and complimented Tykir, “Very good,” as he passed him before going to the well for a drink of water.
Thork stifled an impulse to seek Ruby out and demand to know what she was up to, but that was probably just what she wanted. In fact, she probably stood at one of the windows now watching him. He stuck out his tongue at the nearest window, just in case, then sheepishly ducked his head when he recognized his grandfather’s gray hair.
“Testing for rain?” Dar asked, sticking his head through the window.
Thork shook his head from side to side. The wily wench would make him as strange-headed as she was by the time he finally departed. And, Lord, he was beginning to realize just how much he was going to miss her. He could not imagine a time when he had not known her. He hated to think of how empty his life would be without her. When he finally arrived back at the practice field, he roared at his men, “You men have become bloody weaklings. Perchance I have not worked you hard enough. Today, I swear, we will work all the kinks out or die in the trying.” He ignored the grumbles of complaint and those men he heard griping, ” ‘Tis all the fault of the wench from hell.”
* * *
Ruby wasn’t watching Thork. She was in her room, working frantically to complete his cloak. In two days, they would all leave for Jorvik and the Althing.
She’d always been a fine seamstress and enjoyed working with her hands, especially when the material was as fine as this wool. Ruby had made her career based on a sewing talent, so making a cloak for Thork was an easy task. She cut and sewed the voluminous garment in half a day, including the finely stitched hem. The embroidery took much longer. Ruby decided to alternate the thunderbolts worked in silver thread with Thor’s gold hammer called Mjollnir, or lightning. The cloak would be stunning. Ruby expected to complete it by tomorrow night.
At dinner that evening, Thork made no pretense of his interest in Ruby and disinterest in the shy maid beside him. Ruby squirmed uncomfortably under his constant gaze from the head table but refused to kowtow to the warning messages he sent. She knew the baseball and jump rope had become an instant hit among young and old alike.
Thork probably interpreted her gifts as further goads aimed at him. That wasn’t true. She had other things in mind to rattle the arrogant Viking.
Thork surprised her by approaching her end of the hall after the meal. “No more tricks tonight from your bag of sorcery? No peaches or toys? No special meals to tempt the mouth?”
“I decided to give you a rest for tonight,” Ruby replied enigmatically.
“Were you not warned to stop pushing me?”
“I’m not afraid of you. The Althing and Sigtrygg and some of these other vicious Vikings—yes, I fear them—but not you.”
Thork gritted his teeth, and his face turned stormy.
“Do you question my manhood?”
“Are you kidding? That’s the last thing I would question, but I think you care for me, more than you realize. You wouldn’t harm me.”
“Wench, you are above yourself. If I thought for one moment you spied for Ivar or were a threat to my family, I would kill you in a trice.”
“That’s just it. I’m none of those things.”
“But a liar you definitely are. That was proven when I discovered your virginity.”
“Oh, Thork!” she sighed woefully. “Why won’t you just give in and marry me?”
Thork laughed at her persistence. “Nay.”
“Will you stand up for me at the Althing?”
“Why should I?”
“To save me from being killed.”
“Save your breath, wench. I will not betray my fellow Vikings to save your skin. And think again if you consider yourself aught but an enticing piece of flesh to me. Never will you win this battle.”