“Do you dare say me nay?” the king asked through gritted teeth in a voice that forbade further argument from her. He raised his hand in warning, about to strike her again.
Olaf coughed slightly, signaling her to do as the king asked.
Ruby closed her eyes wearily, wishing desperately that this sleepwalk through time would end but sensing it wouldn’t—at least, not yet. She wondered if this were one of those nightmares people have where they stand naked in a roomful of clothed, laughing people. Anyway, her safest route seemed to be compliance.
“Oh, all right. But that’s all.”
She bent over to remove her shoes, then thought better of presenting her backside to the Viking men behind her. Instead, she sat on the bottom step and took them off.
Oh, Lord, she prayed, please let me wake up before they kill me. Did it hurt to be decapitated in a dream? Ruby wondered with macabre humor.
After removing the shoes, Ruby stood and defiantly faced Thork and Sigtrygg again, refusing to cower. Really, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. After all, her models paraded around in underwear at fashion shows before even larger crowds. Why should she be ashamed?
With reluctant resignation, Ruby unbuttoned her jeans and pulled the zipper down. But Sigtrygg reached out a hand and stopped her.
Was she being given a reprieve?
No such luck!
“Do that again,” he demanded, awestruck.
“Do what again?”
“Open your braies again. With that thing.”
Ruby looked down, not understanding.
Thork pointed to her zipper, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter. “He means that.”
The zipper must intrigue him, Ruby surmised, realizing that, of course, zippers hadn’t been invented yet. She pulled the zipper back up, then down, then up, over and over as the fascinated Sigtrygg ordered, even though she tried to tell him it was just a simple fastener.
Thork grinned in amusement at Ruby’s discomfort and the king’s childlike glee.
The jerk!
Finally, Ruby removed her jeans and handed them to Sigtrygg so he could play with the damn zipper ad infinitum at his leisure.
Thork’s eyes traveled over Ruby’s body with a familiar gleam only she would recognize, spending several long seconds on her black lace panties. Not quite a bikini style, the fairly conservative, far from transparent briefs rode below the waist to the hip line, while the sides were cut provocatively high.
Thork liked her lingerie. No question about it. He always had. And black was his favorite. Despite the danger she knew she faced, Ruby relished the moment, loving the fact that Thork shifted uncomfortably. He refused to make eye contact, however, probably fearing a recurrence of their earlier spectacle.
Ruby liked the hard body she saw when she looked down. She was still tall, about five-feet-nine, but small-boned and lean, with firm breasts, small waist, slightly rounded hips and very long legs. Definitely twentyish!
The crowd murmuring behind her and the lewd remarks from the men told her the other Vikings noticed her unusual underwear, too, even if Sigtrygg still fooled with the damn zipper. He’d probably break it with his clumsy hands, then blame her for its not working.
When Sigtrygg finally turned back to her, his one good eye narrowed suspiciously. He looked from the zipper to her and said, “What manner person are you? Mayhap you are a sorceress.”
“No!” Ruby exclaimed immediately, remembering Thork’s warning about Sigtrygg’s aversion to witches.
“Methinks a witch-burning could be called for here,” Sigtrygg said with relish.
The crowd murmured louder behind her and not in disagreement, Ruby noted ruefully. They liked the idea.
Good grief! These Vikings were as bloodthirsty as her research had shown her a few years ago when she’d done a family genealogy tracing her roots back to pre-Medieval times. She’d thought then that they were biased accounts of the heathen invaders by the cleric recorders of history. Now she wasn’t so sure.
When Thork said nothing on her behalf at Sigtrygg’s question of sorcery and her possible execution, Ruby knew she was on her own. Her mind worked desperately on a plan to save herself.
Hey! That just might work.
In a final gasp for self-preservation, Ruby proclaimed audaciously, “You know, I’m a Viking, too.”