The Reluctant Viking
Sandra Hill
For my mother, Veronica Cluston, who taught me how to be a strong woman long before strong women were in vogue.
And for my husband, Robert, who taught me how to be a coyote. May we always howl together.
Her brows were bright, her breast was shining,
Whiter her neck than new fallen snow…
Blond was his hair, and bright his cheeks,
Grim as a snake’s were his glowing eyes.
Rigspula
c. 10th century
Contents
Epigraph
Author’s Note
Chapter One
“This is the first lecture in the ‘Mind Over Matter’…
Chapter Two
“Ivar is vicious, but not lackwitted. He would never send…
Chapter Three
Like Alice in Wonderland falling through the garden hole, Ruby…
Chapter Four
Ruby practically ran to keep up with Olaf’s and Thork’s…
Chapter Five
Ruby awakened to dawn light streaming through the unshuttered window…
Chapter Six
Three days later Thork and his companions rode their horses…
Chapter Seven
For the next few days, thoughts of Thork tormented Ruby.
Chapter Eight
Three weeks had passed since Ruby’s arrival in Jorvik. Ruby…
Chapter Nine
Thork didn’t laugh for long.
Chapter Ten
“Defend yourself, damn you,” Thork demanded, raising his voice in…
Chapter Eleven
The spring-fed pond nestled in a secluded little oasis, hidden…
Chapter Twelve
“By your leave, my fine lady, I would speak with…
Chapter Thirteen
“Your tongue ever outruns your good judgement, woman!” Thork raged,…
Chapter Fourteen
Dar’s storage room was a treasure trove of exquisite fabrics,…
Chapter Fifteen
Several miles outside Jorvik, they arrived at the wide plain…
Chapter Sixteen
“Nay, I cannot do such,” Thork shouted, not caring if…
Chapter Seventeen
They finally arrived in Kingston at dawn on the day…
Chapter Eighteen
“I want you inside me,” Ruby admitted huskily. “More than…
Chapter Nineteen
Ruby was treated like a newfound pet during the following…
Chapter Twenty
Ruby shed her clothing slowly, teasingly, drawing out the process…
Chapter Twenty-One
The battle had been a bloody nightmare and a resounding…
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Click! Click! Click!”
Praise
Other Books by Sandra Hill
About the Author
Copyright
About the Publisher
Author’s Note
From 1976 to 1981, the York Archaeological Trust undertook one of the most impressive historical excavations of all time: Jorvik, the Viking Age town of York. More than 15,000 small objects taken from the site gave historians a clear picture of everyday Viking life and allowed specialists to re-create a replica of the Viking city that flourished there under a series of Viking kings from 850 to 954 A.D.
Archaeological studies, like the “Coppergate” dig at Jorvik, prove that the Northmen, who made a highway of the seas during the Viking Age, 800–1100 A.D., weren’t always the heathen rapers and pillagers portrayed by early historians, usually Anglo-Saxon clerics with biased viewpoints. They were, in fact, men of incredible bravery, daring, loyalty and talent, driven by a ruthless hunger for new lands to settle as farms and trading centers.
The Vikings respected justice and, in fact, introduced the word law into the English language. They created in their Things, or local courts, the forerunner of our modern jury system. Furthermore, the Viking sagas and skaldic poetry show evidence of a surprising wit, sensitivity and appreciation for culture.
The Northmen began their extensive spearhead onto foreign soil at the end of the eighth century with small, hit-and-run raids that soon escalated into massive warheads, sometimes involving hundreds of ships and thousands of men. Over the next two centuries, they penetrated Europe, North Africa and Russia. They proudly served as hand-picked members of the Byzantine emperor’s personal bodyguard in Constantinople. Some discovered America.
Yet, there is no Viking nation as such today. Why? It’s because the Northmen blended into the local societies they conquered, adopting the language, customs and religion. Many of the noble knights of the Middle Ages were actually close descendants, even grandsons, of Vikings, such as the “outlaw” Viking Hrolf (or Rollo), first Duke of Normandy, my own grandfather thirty-three times removed. Hrolf also was the great-great-great grandfather of William the Conqueror.
The monk-historians also ignored in their biased records an elite group of Viking knights called Jomsvikings. The oaths of loyalty and reputed valor of these great warriors were reminiscent of the earlier King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.
Although the word Viking was not used until later years, I’ve chosen to use it for the sake of my modern reader. For the same reason, I use twentieth-century names for countries.
Finally, despite the barbaric reputation attributed to the Nordic invaders, even the harshest critics never disputed their incredible bravery, huge stature and remarkable good looks. No wonder women of vanquished, pre-Medieval European countries were attracted to these exceedingly handsome men who carried such fanciful names as Gudrod the Magnificent, Harald Fairhair, Thorfinn the Mighty, Halfdan of the Wide Embrace, Rolf the Marcher, Thorkel the Handsome, Sven Forkbeard and Cnut the Great.
No wonder my twentieth-century heroine, caught in a web of desertion and despair, learns to love these proud, fierce people in her travel through time to 925 A.D. Jorvik, where living was more simple, but human relationships were just as complicated.
Chapter One
“This is the first lecture in the ‘Mind Over Matter’ series. Before we start, clear your mind of all extraneous thought. Picture yourself floating on a cloud high above the earth—floating…floating…floating…”
“Stupid, damn tapes!” Ruby Jordan complained aloud as she stomped into her husband’s study to turn off the machine. Rhoda, her ditzy cleaning lady, had probably touched the switches on the complicated deck when she’d dusted earlier.
A killer headache pounded behind Ruby’s eyes, and she knew it would get worse before Jack got home. Would there be another argument?
Ruby stopped short when she saw Jack selecting some of his business motivation tapes and putting them into a briefcase.
“I didn’t know you were home. Why didn’t you—”
“Don’t start on me again, Rube,” Jack Jordon interrupted his wife, a silken thread of warning in his deep-timbred voice. “I’ve had it up to here with the fighting.” He slashed his throat emphatically with a forefinger to make his point.
“Me, too,” Ruby whispered on a broken sigh, then noticed his suitcases lined up next to the door. So, he really was leaving. She’d expected it for weeks, but still tears welled in her eyes.
“Jack, are you sure you want this?” How many times had she asked that question the last two weeks? What a fool to think the answer might be different this time!
Jack straightened from his bent position over the stereo, turned it off and rubbed his eyes wearily with the fingers of one hand before darting an impatient glare at her. He still wore the dark blue business suit he�
��d donned early that morning.
Ruby knew that the recession-hit real estate market had put him through the wringer this past year. One month they’d even had to use her salary to pay the bills—a walloping blow to his ego. Jack’s wide shoulders sagged now with sadness and exhaustion. He probably hadn’t eaten all day. For a moment, Ruby’s heart softened and she almost asked him if she could fix his dinner. Almost.
“Rube, our marriage sucks. We’ve been hurting each other for a long time, and I’m tired of trying anymore. I’ve got to get on with my life…we both do. These arguments tear me apart…affect my work.”
Ruby listened with rising dismay, and a cold foreboding sealed her lips. When she didn’t respond, he continued in a harsh, pain-raw voice, “I’m thirty-eight years old, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with a woman who gets more turned on by her job and her clients than me.”
“Oh!” she gasped, stunned by his bluntness. “That’s not true. It’s just like you to put a sexual connotation on everything.”
“Hey, that’s about the only thing that works for us anymore, and even that doesn’t happen all that often these days,” Jack said with a wry grin and a shrug.
His smile, as intimate as a kiss, could still make Ruby’s heart do cartwheels after all these years, and Ruby had to steel herself to his charm before asking tremulously, “You’re not saying you’re leaving because of sex problems?”
“You know better than that.” His smile faded as his bleak blue eyes stabbed her accusingly. “We could go upstairs right now and screw each other’s brains out, and it wouldn’t solve a thing.”
“You are so crude!”
“Yeah, well, you won’t have to put up with it much longer,” Jack retorted hotly. His jaw tensed visibly, but then he softened, touching her trembling lips with a fleeting, whisper-soft caress of his fingertips. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t want things to end like this. Can’t we just part amicably?”
Ruby shriveled inside a little at his words. She tried to picture a future without Jack in it. Anguish tore at her insides with steely fingers, and she had to hold her knuckles to her mouth to hold back the pain.
“Is there…another woman?” Ruby persisted in a soft, faint voice that broke with the emotion she couldn’t hide.
Jack turned on her angrily. “No! I’ve told you that a dozen times.” His glittering eyes challenged her. “You can be sure, though, that I intend to find a woman who won’t consider me a male chauvinist just because I want to take care of her.” Bitterness limned his voice as he took a deep breath and continued, “I’ll tell you something else. Our kids need a full-time mother. Good Lord! How much time have you spent with them lately? They feel as neglected as I do.”
The force of his seething reply caught Ruby off guard. She pushed back the hysteria that threatened to rise biliously to her voice and asked, more calmly than she felt, “Why do men feel threatened when women become successful? Why can’t they accept professional women combining a career and a home?”
“I refuse to get involved in this women’s-lib debate with you again,” Jack said with cold finality, putting more tapes in his briefcase and slamming it shut.
“I suppose you’ll end up with some twenty-year-old chippie in spandex who’ll talk you into buying a motorcycle or Corvette or something,” Ruby mocked cynically, biting her bottom lip to hold back the tears.
A sad smile played at the corners of Jack’s mouth. He countered in the quick, easy manner that came with years of living together, “Nah, I’m thinking more of a thirtyish woman with a Dolly Parton body, a Barbara Walters mind and a Joan Rivers sense of humor.” Jack’s grim eyes belied his light banter.
Ruby couldn’t deny the pain and jealousy that surged through her. “Dolly Parton! Get real! I could see Jane Fonda, maybe, but Dolly Parton!”
Jack still grinned at her teasingly, which gave Ruby the nerve to offer, “Except for the Dolly Parton body, I could fill the other two criteria…I think.”
The glint of humor faded from his face as Jack asked seriously, “What will you be looking for?”
Ruby cringed, momentarily deflated at his failure to respond to her offer. And did he really think she wanted another man?
Bruised pride stiffened her neck, but embarrassment soon turned to annoyance. She met Jack’s eyes defiantly. “Movie-star looks would be nice but aren’t the most important thing. Besides, I have to be realistic, I guess. I’m no raving beauty, and, at my age, men look at younger women.”
“Oh, Rube, that’s not true. You could get any man you wanted.” Tenderly, his appreciative eyes traveled over her all-too-familiar body.
Any man except the one she needed, Ruby thought, but, instead of speaking her mind, she swallowed with difficulty and gently upbraided him, “Jack, take off the rose-colored glasses and be honest. Thirty-eight-year-old men don’t look at thirty-eight-year-old women.”
“They do when the women look like you.” Jack studied her a moment, then went on, “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you looking for in a man? It obviously isn’t me.”
Pain, stark and intense, formed a huge knot in Ruby’s throat, and Jack asked her silly questions. Still, she continued with her pointless description of an ideal mate. “He should be intelligent. Yes, intelligence is essential. And successful…oh, not moneywise success, just good at whatever he does…”
Her voice trailed away and her bravado failed for a second. When she regained her composure, she steeled herself to go on. “Actually, none of those things matter at all. I’d just want a man who loves me. You know, the way you used…” Ruby’s voice cracked and she couldn’t continue.
Jack tried to touch her shoulder but Ruby shrugged his hand away angrily. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t want your pity. Just go if you’re going. You’re right. We can’t keep postponing the inevitable. Go!”
After a few seconds, she heard Jack moving toward the door. “I’m staying at the lake house until I can find an apartment,” he said in an oddly rasping voice. “I’ll call the boys tonight.”
Ruby forgot her pride then in the face of this final, wrenching end to a twenty-year marriage. Lord, how many times had she sworn she wouldn’t ask the stupid question, the one most women invariably ask at some point in their lives?
“Don’t you love me anymore?”
Jack froze in the doorway and then turned woodenly.
Ruby’s heart lurched. This handsome man could still make her pulse do flip flops with just a glance—even after twenty years of marriage and despite the light sprinkling of gray in his dark blond hair. The past year of stress had etched cruel lines in the chiseled planes of his mature face, but years of disciplined jogging and racquetball had kept his six-foot-three body lean and well-conditioned. He’d have no trouble at all attracting a woman. Ruby closed her eyes for a moment at that painful thought before searching his face once again.
Where were the sense of humor and seductive sensuality that had knocked her for a loop in high school and lured her enticingly into a young marriage in which she had willingly, joyfully stayed home during those early years to bear his children? How had they let things deteriorate so far?
The long silence in answer to Ruby’s question told her volumes before Jack sighed, then finally responded hoarsely, “I don’t know. I just don’t know how I feel anymore. I’m not sure it matters.”
His words sliced through Ruby’s heart.
“We just need time—”
“No! What we don’t need is more time to drag this out. I’ve asked you repeatedly to cut back on hours at your lingerie company so we can work on our marriage. You’ve refused.”
“I haven’t refused. I just couldn’t do it right away. Sweet Nothings has stockpiled so many orders. I would have to hire someone to take over some of my responsibilities. By next month, two months at the latest, then I might be able…”
Jack looked at her incredulously and threw his arms out in resignation. “I give up! I’ve been hea
ring this same story for months. Call me when you can work me in.”
For a few long seconds, Jack hesitated—almost regretfully. Time stood still for them both, freezing them in a tableau of cloudy nostalgia. Jack’s heartrending expression bathed her in a gentle caress, giving her hope.
But then he turned and left.
Ruby stared at the closed door through a mist of tears. Why couldn’t Jack understand how hard she’d worked to build up her custom lingerie company, how hard it was to let go—even a little? She loved Jack. She did. Why couldn’t she have both him and her career?
A hot tear trickled down her cheek. Regret squeezed her heart as she thought of Jack and all she’d lost. Memories seared her mind. Finally, she yielded to the racking sobs that shook her, rocking back and forth.
Ruby cried for a long time until tides of hollow weariness engulfed her. Then she sank down in a well-worn recliner—Jack’s favorite chair since his college days—and let her gaze scan the room. She reached for her fifteen-year-old son’s Walkman, needing something to fill the silence. Unable to cope right now with the overwhelming sense of loss, Ruby absently inserted the tape Jack had been listening to, adjusted the headset and leaned back wearily. Maybe one of the motivational tapes would inspire her with some miraculous message on how to get her marriage back in order.
Lord, what a mess I’ve made of my life!
Ruby shifted her blue-jean-clad bottom into a more comfortable position as her eyes scanned the tapes on the bookshelves of the study. She wasn’t opposed to motivational tapes, but Jack had become obessed with them during the real estate slump.
The worst of them, and the funniest, had been the coyote tapes. How many mornings had he awakened her and the two boys with a coyote howl, declaring that every day should start on a positive note? She forgot the significance of the coyote—something to do with coyotes being able to survive in the wilderness and businessmen being able to do likewise in the coming bad times, or some such thing.
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