The hairs on the back of Ruby’s neck prickled, and, like falling dominoes, the ominous sensation flickered down her spine to her toes, up to the top of her head and out to her fingertips. Ruby’s eyes flew desperately around the room, and her heart lurched in recognition of the dark tunic and mantle Thork had worn the day before.
It was Thork’s sleeping chamber. And Linette had slept here with him last night.
Ruby felt as if someone had kicked her in the stomach. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow in her subconscious she must have hoped that Thork had put on the spectacle with Linette yesterday for her benefit. What a fool she was! Ruby sobbed miserably and turned to flee.
“Who goes there? What do you in Thork’s bedchamber?” Linette screeched as she sat up groggily, pulling a sheet over her naked breasts. “Are you the bothersome thrall Thork brought from Jorvik? Do you spy here, too?” Her sultry eyes narrowed viciously. “Or mayhap you sneak into Thork’s private chamber to poison his wine.”
This was all too much for Ruby.
“Why, you ignorant bimbo… ,” Ruby started to berate Linette, then waved her hands in disgust. What was the use! She swiveled and ran from the shrieking Linette.
“Come back here, you ugly wench, or I will have you beaten,” Linette threatened to Ruby’s retreating back. “Disobey me, will you? Just wait, thrall, you will learn to heed your betters.”
Ruby didn’t care what they did to her. Her eyes had been opened that morning, and she didn’t think she could be hurt any more than she already was.
In her chamber, Ruby’s body shook with wild weeping. She wept for the brutality she’d witnessed in the bailey. She wept for Thork’s “adultery” with another woman. Then a long-delayed reaction to Jack’s desertion set in. The pain of her upcoming divorce racked her, as well as the loss of her old life and exile to this cruel, foreign land.
Ruby finally cried herself out and realized that her binge of self-pity had jump-started another reaction. She was angry. Who did these people think they were—Thork, or Jack, or Linette, or the whole bunch of stupid Vikings—to trod over her roughshod?
I am Ruby Jordan. I am not going to sit down and die. I am a survivor. I will get through this nightmare.
Ruby couldn’t believe her sojourn in this time warp was a permanent one. All she had to do was stop making waves and wait out her time here, she reasoned. She had no one—absolutely no one—on whom she could depend. She knew that for certain now.
Kinship with the Duke of Normandy was her strongest protection. She must convince these people that he was, in fact, her “grandfather” so they wouldn’t dare harm her. It would be impossible, though, if she kept letting her emotions get in the way.
Face it, girl, you were starting to fall in love with the damn Viking.
Ruby curled up in a ball on her little bed and slept away her weariness from the trip and the mental anguish she’d suffered that morning. She awakened several hours later, thankful that no one had disturbed her. They were probably too busy killing people, Ruby thought, her lips curling in disgust.
Pouring the entire pitcher of water into the bowl, Ruby gave herself an all-over wash with a square of linen and soft soap. Then she searched her new Viking wardrobe for something presentable to wear down to the great hall for dinner. She chose a cream-colored velvet tunic with dark green braiding to be worn over a jade, long-sleeved chemise. Gyda had been generous in allowing her to alter clothes that no longer suited Astrid. Over her neck, she slid the magnificent emerald Byrnhil had given her, then realized she had forgotten to return Thork’s dragon brooches. With absolutely no guilt, she pinned them on the shoulders of her garment, vowing to keep them until asked for their return. Maybe she would never give them back.
The three girls came in, talking excitedly until they saw Ruby, and then they turned strangely silent. Ruby helped them find more water and to dress, all the while puzzled by their aloof attitudes.