Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 03]

by The Tarnished Lady

  Eirik had to restrain himself from leaping over the table and strangling her bony neck. No, not bony, more like gracefully slender, he reminded himself with self-derision.

  “Damn her deceit! By the time I am done with her, she will hobble all right and with good cause.”

  Eirik had already discussed his discovery of Eadyth’s charade with Wilfrid. While his good friend had suspected Eadyth was not as old or uncomely as they had originally thought, Wilfrid told him he had not been certain and, therefore, had hesitated to mention his seemingly farfetched impressions.

  “My vision must be growing worse for the wily wench to have fooled me so,” Eirik complained to his good friend. “Even though I was never sharp-sighted as a child, I never saw it as a real problem. Now I am not so sure.”

  “Nay, do not think such. Your lady wife fooled us all with her masquerade.”

  “I must admit my discovery of her charade today rattled me badly. What kind of future would I have as a blind soldier? Without eyes, a knight is but a shell, less than a man.”

  “Put it from your mind, Eirik. I truly believe you wanted to believe her old and, therefore, never recognized the signs of youth. Remember that first night when she blew into the hall like a winter storm and practically kicked the dog. Those were not the actions of a young, beautiful woman.”

  Eirik scrutinized Eadyth closely as she moved nearer, his lips curling with disgust as he saw how obvious her disguise was. He wondered just how big a hole she would dig for herself before confessing the truth.

  “Do you still think she conspires with Steven?”

  “I think not,” Eirik answered, stroking his upper lip distractedly, missing his mustache sorely. That was her fault, too, he decided unreasonably. He wouldn’t have had to shave it off if not for her bees. “I suspect she harbors a loathing for the lustful attentions of men and took advantage of the circumstances to keep me at bay.”

  “With all due respect, my lord, I have yet to meet the maid who could keep you at bay, or even wanted to.”

  Eirik shrugged. “Some women are born that way and ne’er change—always hating a man’s touch.” And just my luck to wed one of the man haters!

  Wilfrid seemed to give the idea considerable thought, then nodded. “Will you confront Lady Eadyth about her deception now?”

  “Nay.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I will give her enough rope to hang herself.”

  Wilfrid laughed, no doubt anticipating an evening of entertainment at Eadyth’s expense. Eirik did not intend to disappoint him. He, too, looked forward to making his lady wife squirm, but first he must bank his raging anger and force a bland expression to his tense face.

  “’Twill be interesting to see how far she will go in her foolery,” Eirik continued, “and despite my doubts, I cannot be certain she has no devious intent. So, yea, I think ’tis best to watch her closely for a time. But you can be sure I will make her pay—both now, in my own special way, and later when I confront her with her deceit.”

  Wilfrid just grinned.

  Now that Eadyth had solved the smoke problem in the great hall with her new chimneys, Eirik could see the care she took with her disguise, pulling her head-rail forward slightly to cover her forehead and cheeks, frowning so hard her face muscles must ache, and cackling until her voice grew hoarse. She had even ashed her face a bit.

  Lord, I must be a lackwit to have been so duped.

  Throughout the meal, Eirik continued to study her with feral intensity as he downed cup after cup of her mead. It probably was the best in all Northumbria, as she had boasted. Mayhap he would drown her in a tun of her own brew.

  Wanting to lull Eadyth into trapping herself, he reminded himself to squint occasionally and peer closely at objects on the table. Let her think I am blind to her disguise. The witch!

  He played a mental game with himself, devising new, exotic methods he would use to torture her. Strangulation was too clean and quick, he decided. And he wanted to delay her punishment until he was sure of her motives. But what could he do now to prick her haughty countenance without betraying his knowledge of her game?

  Aaah! “Is that a bristly hair I see sprouting from your wart?” he asked suddenly, looking at the enticing mole near her lips. “I could pluck it out for you, if you wish. My grandmother used to get them on occasion after she had reached a certain…age.” He watched with smug delight as Eadyth’s hand shot to her mole, searching, even though she must know she had no such thing.

  “’Tis a mole, not a wart,” she protested indignantly and shot him a look of icy disdain.

  Hell! How could I have thought her eyes rheumy with age? They are sinfully beautiful. “Oh. Mayhap I was mistaken.”

  Reaching out a hand, he touched a fingertip to the mole, then trailed it gently over her finely sculpted upper lip with its deep center divot. An immediate jolt of awareness struck a part of his body he would as soon ignore right now. All the boiling blood in his body, which should have been directed at her in anger, rushed to that spot far removed from his brain, and he felt himself harden involuntarily.

  When he pulled his hand back, a light coating of ashes covered the fingertip. So this is why her complexion appeared gray. Does she consider me a half-wit? No doubt, she does, he decided ruefully.

  He rubbed his index finger and thumb together, then dusted the ashes off with exaggerated fastidiousness. Slanting her an assessing look, he commented, “You must have stood too close to the cook fires. You should be more careful.”

  Eadyth almost swallowed her tongue at his words.

  “Are you angry with me?”

  “Do I have cause to be angry with you, Eadyth?”

  “Na..nay,” she stammered. “’Tis just that we seemed to be getting along so well lately, and now you seem…well, different.”

  “Yea, we have been living together congenially these past few days, now that you mention it, especially since I have been such a good, meek husband, following all your orders, doing all your assigned chores.”

  “You could have refused. I never insisted on your help.”

  “Nay, but you have milked my guilty conscience nigh dry. Admit the truth of my words.” If you ever ask me to clean another garderobe in all your life, dear lady, I may just turn you upside down and use your hair to mop up the filth. Better yet, I may bury you in the slops. That should bring your prideful nose down a notch or two.

  “Are you upset about my climbing the tree?”

  Tree? Tree? She has been deceiving me for weeks and she speaks of trees! “Yea, I do object to my wife climbing trees. Do not do it again.”

  He could see his headstrong spouse start to protest, but then decide to hold her tongue for now, no doubt sensing his present bad humor. She probably had some other miserable favor she wished to ask of him. Hah! No more!

  She sipped at a cup of mead, seeming to seek reinforcement for her faltering nerve. But no, he must be mistaken. His wife had the mettle of a seasoned warrior. When she had drunk every drop in three quick gulps, she looked up.

  “Eirik, I have a confession to make. There is something I have been wanting to tell you for a long time.”

  Aaah, so now she chooses to make her disclosure. Well, my deceitful little witch, mayhap I do not choose to hear it just yet. “How long?”

  “What?”

  “How long have you been wanting to tell me…this thing?” He eyed her lazily as he spoke, feeling much like a fat cat playing with a little mouse.

  Suddenly, he realized with a grin of delicious anticipation that he might enjoy peeling away all the layers of his lady’s deception to discover what “jewel” he had in this wife of his. Perhaps he would be pleasantly surprised.

  “For several sennights. Actually, since our betrothal,” she admitted, pale-faced and nervous.

  Good. “Does it have aught to do with the letter you sent to your business agent in Jorvik yestermorn, even though I told you I would handle your affairs?”

  He
could see alarm shoot through her as she wondered how he knew of her dealings. Eadyth had exercised great care in sending her missive by way of a passing traveler, but he had been even more cautious of every stranger approaching or leaving Ravenshire since Steven had planted the letter within his keep. Especially because there had been more evidence of the demon earl’s presence in the vicinity of late—a poisoned well, a burned-out cotter’s hut, a village maiden raped by unknown marauding villains.

  “Nay, ’tis not the letter to my agent I wish to discuss. Besides, I intended to tell you about that.”

  Eventually, mayhap. “Oh, then it must be the sheep you ordered without seeking my permission.”

  “I intend to pay for them myself,” she protested, waving her hand dismissively, obviously chagrined that he refused to let her make her confession in her own manner. “I kept asking Wilfrid about the sheep, and when you were delayed for so long in the North, and summer was almost here, I decided…”

  Her voice faltered when she looked up, no doubt noticing the scowl lines in his forehead and those deepening at the edges of his mouth.

  “Then it must be your ban on allowing my dogs in the great hall.”

  Eadyth groaned with frustration. “I thought you would approve. I did not want to trouble you.”

  Trouble! You have been nothing but trouble from first we met, you shrew. “Actually, I know what distresses you then, my wife. ’Tis the words you have been teaching Abdul. Did you not realize that he would soon repeat your lessons to me?”

  A pink blush hazed her throat and crept attractively up her face—the skin of which, he now realized, must be as deliciously white as new cream, not ashy gray.

  She raised her chin brazenly, refusing to yield to his subtly cloaked accusations. “What words?”

  “Loathsome lout! Bloody beast! Odious oaf! To name a few.”

  Fear flashed briefly across her rigid face, but she refused to back down. “How do you know ’twas me?”

  “Because the damn bird has a talent for mimicking voices, as you well know. Because when the feathered half-wit called me a loathsome lout, his voice had a decided cackle to it. And there is only one person in this castle who cackles.”

  He had to admire her unwavering, unapologetic demeanor. In fact, the edges of her sinfully seductive lips twitched saucily with a smile. She would pay for that later. Eirik tilted his head questioningly as he realized that he had never heard his wife laugh aloud or even seen her smile spontaneously at any jest. She was too stiff-necked by far. Hah! I will bend you to my will and relish the effort, my sly wife.

  “I do not know why you feel you cannot discuss these decisions with me aforehand, Eadyth. I am not an ogre.” Eirik forced himself to speak with sweetness, and Eadyth eyed him suspiciously. “Oh, ’tis true, I mislike your ‘managing’ my life and household to your standards, but the only thing I demanded of you afore our wedding was honesty. As long as you do not play me false, in any way, I think we can abide together reasonably well.” Honesty! Hah!

  The blood drained from her face. Blessed Lord, if he were not so damned angry he would enjoy this game of cat and mouse. In fact, despite his anger, he did find himself vastly amused.

  “So, this confession of yours—that is what you called it, is it not? Could it be the fact that you have finally decided you want to consummate our marriage, and you, shy bird that you are, just cannot find the words to tell me? Well, do not be embarrassed. I asked Bertha, and she told me your flux has ended.”

  Eadyth’s expressive eyes widened with horror.

  And his grin grew wider.

  “I know it must be a worry to you…the lack of a consummation, that is. Especially since Saxon law specifically says a marriage is not truly valid ’til the morgen gifu is given the morning after the…well, for lack of better words…the satisfactory performance of the wife in the marriage bed.” She need not know that the law was rarely enforced, Eirik decided.

  Eadyth did choke then, and he solicitously handed her another cup of mead. When her bout of coughing ended, she sputtered out, “But Tykir gave me your ‘morning gift’ on your behalf, which I cherish, incidentally. The beekeeping book is the nicest gift I have ever received. I have not had a chance to thank you properly, but I assumed…”

  Eirik peered at her in a squinty, questioning fashion. “Do not move about so much, Eadyth, I have trouble seeing you clearly.” He clenched his fists tightly to control his temper. Two could play this game of charades.

  At first, she looked pleased with herself, no doubt congratulating herself for successfully making a fool of him. Then she returned to her earlier words. “I thought the gift Tykir gave me on your behalf would be sufficient to validate our marriage.”

  “’Twas what I intended, of course, but the courts and the church could end our marriage, even now, without the consummation. There are those who know I was not here on my wedding night, and that I sleep alone. If Steven ever contested the marriage afore the Witan, we would have to swear that the deed was done.”

  He stared at her boldly, enjoying her discomfort immensely. “Is it a risk you wish to take?”

  Eadyth hesitated only a moment before shaking her head.

  “Good. Then you will not mind that I ordered the servants to move your belongings into my bedchamber.”

  “Already?” Although her face betrayed no panic—Lord, his wife was a consummate actress!—her slender fingers flexed nervously in her lap.

  “Yea. Can you think of any reason for delay?”

  Eadyth’s mind seemed to go blank. His question had struck her dumb.

  “Well, mayhap you are right,” she conceded grudgingly. “After all, ’tis only one night. And, no doubt, ’tis best to get the bedding over and be done with the vile business so—”

  “Vile business?” he asked incredulously. “That is the first time I have heard any woman refer to coupling with me as ‘vile business.’ You insult me, my lady.”

  “Oh, I am sure lustful play is not distasteful for some females, but I—”

  “Eadyth, did you not enjoy making love with Steven?”

  “Enjoy? What was there to enjoy—betwixt the blood and the pain?”

  “But after you lost your maidenhead, did Steven not give you pleasure the other times?”

  “Other times? Are you daft? Why would I participate in such an odious act more than once?”

  Eirik smiled then, and shook his head in wonderment. “I thought—”

  “You thought I had developed round heels and was spreading my thighs like a dockside trollop?” she said with disgust. “Oh, you are just like all men, especially the lecherous ones who approached me as fair game with their indecent proposals after John’s birth.” She glared at him hostilely, but he continued to grin like an idiot. “Well, leastways, I will only have to do it this one more time, and be done with it.”

  Eirik shook his head with amazement. Supremely informed in some areas, Eadyth was totally naive in others. He could not wait to hear what she said next. Truly, he was enjoying this new wife of his more and more.

  “Wha…what?” Eadyth asked suspiciously.

  Eirik brushed his index finger back and forth over his upper lip, watching her closely, trying to imagine just how young and comely she really was under those voluminous garments and the ridiculous scowling wrinkles.

  “I find I have grown fond of children now that John and Larise and Godric are about so much,” he said softly. “I have been thinking that mayhap I would like to have another child, perchance a son.”

  In truth, it was the first time the thought had entered his head. Once the newness of the idea wore off, however, he found he was not so averse to having another babe. After Elizabeth’s death and his determination never to remarry, he had grown used to the idea that he would never father legitimate children. And he had missed Larise and Emma sorely. Now that Larise was back at Ravenshire, he determined to bring Emma back, as well.

  “A babe?” Eadyth inhaled sharply in surprise. T
hen, she, too, seemed to consider the idea’s merit. “After Steven’s betrayal, I had grown accustomed to the idea of bearing no more children. It is a tempting prospect, but…” Cautiously, she asked, “How many times do you think it would take? I quickened after only one time afore.”

  Eirik smothered a chuckle at her apparent distaste for the bedding, but her obvious yearning for another child. “’Tis hard to say,” he replied, struggling to remain straight-faced. “The seed may not take so quickly at your advanced age.” He barely stifled a laugh before continuing, “For some, once is enough. For others, it takes fifty or sixty tries, or more.”

  “Fifty?” she squeaked out, clearly horrified at such a repulsive prospect.

  Eirik slanted a look of irritation her way when her body shuddered involuntarily with revulsion.

  “Well, I am sure you are just as repulsed at the prospect of bedding an aged woman as I am by the prospect of bedding yo…anyman.”

  “If the bedchamber is dark enough, I think I will be able to perform,” Eirik commented dryly. “I can pretend the wrinkles on your face are smile lines. And I could fantasize that the legs wrapped ’round my waist are firm and well-curved, not bony and knob-kneed.”

  Eadyth gasped at his insulting, intimate words, but he just went on as if he did not sense her embarrassment. “Mayhap you could even pretend an enthusiasm for the bedding if my manhood needs any prodding to action. Do you think you could moan passionately on the odd occasion?”

  Eadyth’s mouth dropped open in amazement at his vulgarity. “Oh, you truly are a loathsome lout.”

  “Now, now, Eadyth. No need for shyness betwixt husband and wife. If you do not know how to make passionate love sounds, I can teach you.” Then, in a falsely feminine voice, he moaned, “Oh, oh, yes, ah, that feels so-o-o good.”

  Eadyth stood indignantly, casting a look of horror at Wilfrid who chortled with laughter. Eirik had forgotten his seneschal was still there, hearing all his provoking words. He winked conspiratorially at his friend.

  “How dare you speak thus to me?”

  “Sit down, Eadyth,” Eirik said, elbowing Wilfrid to behave himself. “I was merely making a jest.”