“Never say never, sweetheart,” Ruby challenged cryptically and walked away from him haughtily, swaying her hips in exaggeration. She heard several hesirs laugh behind her, but realized too late what Thork planned. He reached out and tweaked her behind, ensuring he got the last laugh from the hooting hesirs.
Ruby turned back indignantly. “You are a vulgar, vulgar man.”
“Nay, wench, you asked for that, swishing your arse like a dockside tart,” Thork defended himself with a laugh.
“I did not,” Ruby declared lamely and left the hall, her prideful chin still held high.
Ruby finished the cloak the next day, then went to the village to pick up her leather, high-heeled sandals. They weren’t quite what she’d planned. The woodworker had somehow made one of the heels slightly shorter than the other, causing her to hobble when she walked. There was no time to fix them since they left for Jorvik the next day.
“Do you try to get Thork’s pity by making him think you are a cripple?” Ella inquired.
“No, men in my country like to see women in high heels. They think it makes a woman’s legs look sexy.”
Ella eyed her skeptically. “Even when they walk like a crone?”
“No.” Ruby laughed. “Women can walk fine in them. In fact, it causes them to sway when they walk in sort of a sexy way.”
Ella rolled her eyes.
“Perhaps I’ll just pose in them. Now that I think about it, moving around in these primitive high heels probably isn’t a great idea.”
“Mayhap you have lost your mind completely.”
* * *
The next night Thork decided to retire immediately after the meal. He had no intention of returning to his grandfather’s estate after the Althing, so he had spent an exhausting day loading wagons with the last of the trading goods for his ships.
He noticed Ruby’s absence from the evening meal.
“Mayhap her stomach ails and she could not sup,” the thrall Ella said, shifting her eyes slyly when he asked about her whereabouts.
” ‘Tis nervous she is about the Althing and wanted to rest,” his grandmother offered and also averted her eyes from Thork’s direct gaze.
“How should I know?” his grandfather snapped. “Think you I know her every move?”
“I will probably find a snake in my bed,” Thork grumbled as he walked away, excusing Dar’s abrupt manner as regret over his imminent leavetaking.
Thork yawned widely as he opened the door of his darkening chamber. He laid his sword and knife on a chest, lit two soapstone lamps, then yawned again. It would be a long day tomorrow with all the wagons and guests who would travel with them to Jorvik. He hoped to get an early start. He turned then and jumped.
“Thor’s blood, woman, what do you here? Wouldst thou fright me to death to accomplish thy goals?”
Ruby stood at the far end of the room in a dim corner wearing a magnificent bright blue cloak with fine embroidery around the edges. ‘Twas odd, though, because it dwarfed her with its massive folds, and its hem hugged the floor.
Thork narrowed his eyes suspiciously and started back toward the door, not wanting to tempt fate by being in the same room with the wanton wench—virgin though she may be. And where was that cursed Vigi? He was supposed to be guarding Ruby at all times, keeping her away from him.
“No, don’t go,” Ruby said and wobbled toward him, probably hampered by the oversized garment, Thork thought. “I just want to give you a going-away gift. This cloak. I made it for you and did all the handwork myself. Do you like it?” Her voice wavered nervously.
” ‘Tis a fine cloak, but why wouldst thou make me a gift?” Truly, the garment was a work of art, as fine as any he had ever seen in his travels. Thork glanced at her suspiciously. “Do you bribe me now?”
“No. This gift has no strings attached. It’s just a memento of our time together. I offer it as sort of an apology for all the trouble I’ve caused you.”
Like all Vikings, Thork appreciated the giving and receiving of gifts. It would be rude to deny her offering. Thork nodded his acceptance. Besides, ’twas true she had caused him much trouble.