THE RELUCTANT VIKING By Sandra Hill

They were almost like a family.

Eirik had brought his bat and baseball and soon had a game going. Since it was still summer, the skies would not darken for another hour or two. Ruby sat on the grass watching Eirik explain the rules to each of the newcomers who approached.

Thork’s casual stance as he watched his sons emphasized the lines of his powerfully muscled body under a coal-black tunic. Through half-shuttered lashes, Ruby admired his long, sinewy legs—like bronze marble—beneath the thigh-high garment. She yearned to touch the silken blond hairs just barely revealed at the open laces of his neckline.

“You were always a good baseball player,” Ruby recalled, tipping her face up to him as she lay back on the sun-warmed grassy slope. “Why don’t you play?”

Thork’s handsome face split into a quick, open grin at her words. “Me? Playing children’s games? Never!” He dropped lithely down to the ground and lay on his side watching her, propped on one elbow. The sparkle of his lazy smile kindled a fire in her.

“Surely you played games as a child,” she commented, increasingly distracted as Thork’s long, skillful fingers traced invisible, sensuous circles on her arm, starting at the wrist and moving slowly upward.

“Hah! The only games I recall were hiding from my brother Eric, and that was more a deadly pursuit.” His slowly stalking hand had reached her collarbone, which he tenderly brushed with featherlike strokes.

Ruby swallowed hard and tried to change the subject. “Men play baseball in my country, as well as children. In fact, the really good ones get paid a fortune for it.”

“You make these tales up as you go, I think.” He smiled wickedly as his fingertips crept under the loose collar of her gown and began making little spiraling circles on the ultrasensitive skin. The light caresses ignited delicious tingles wherever they touched.

“Stop it!” Ruby gasped and whisked his hand away. “I can’t think when you do that.”

“Do what?” Thork asked, his blue eyes wide with feigned innocence.

Ruby laughed at this playful side of Thork. “You know exactly what I mean, you tease. Anyhow, instead of trying to seduce me, why don’t you get rid of some of your excess energy down there on the ballfield?” When he seemed reluctant to remove himself and his feathery fingers, Ruby challenged him, “Come on, big guy. I bet you can’t even hit the ball.”

“Excess energy!” Thork laughed. “Is that what they call it in your country?” He leaned closer, his hot breath tantalizing her parted lips. With a smug grin, Thork whispered, “And what do I get if I win the wager?” Dipping his head, he lowered his mouth and grazed her lips lightly in question. When he pulled away, Ruby’s lips followed his instinctively. He chuckled gleefully at her open response.

“I have nothing of value that you would want,” Ruby rasped out softly and sat up, hugging her knees. Thork followed suit and held her eyes steadily.

“Nay, never think it.”

Ruby arched her eyes in doubt. “I offered more to you than any woman could, and you rejected it every time.”

“Hah! Not because I did not want you, sweet witch. Nay, never that!”

Ruby smiled widely at his backhanded compliment.

Thork poked her in the ribs with a forefinger playfully and cautioned, “Do not think you have won any great battle with such a meager concession on my part.”

“Oh, no, I would never think that, but a teensy little skirmish… couldn’t I claim that?” she bantered. Actually, Ruby felt as if she’d won the whole bloody world with his admission. Was this a first step toward something more?

“Ah, sweetling, do not look at me like that.”

“How?”

“Your smile is edged with sadness, but your eyes glisten still with hope. Can you not accept the fact that there will be no future betwixt us, Ruby?” He shook his head in emphasis, then added softly, “Even though ’tis pleasant to think of what might have been.”

He stood abruptly then, obviously uncomfortable with the direction of their discussion. Gazing down at her, he asked with overbearing confidence, “So you think I could not hit a piddling-sized ball with a hunk of wood? We shall see.” He strode off down the slope to the field where the boys played ball. Over his shoulder, he informed her with jiggling eyebrows, “I will decide on my forfeit later.”

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