by Sandra Hill
Britta eyed her skeptically. "And how will you 'die'? With the poison he gave you."
"Nay, there can be no 'dead' bodies for Eirik to examine. I had thought of fire, but that would be too devastating for Emma to go through again. Losing me and John will be hard enough on her and Larise."
"Drowning?"
"I had considered that, but there are no large bodies of water nearby, ones with currents strong enough to carry away evidence. And Eirik would search for our bodies."
"Then what?" Britta gaped at her in horror.
"I have heard there have been problems with marauding wolf packs in the hills. Do you think we could pretend to have been the victims of the wild beasts?"
"There would have to be evidence, would there not?"
"Yea, but if there were pieces of our bloody garments, and some bones—"
"Bones! What kind of bones?" Britta was backing away from Eadyth as if she feared she had lost her sanity. Mayhap she had.
"Well, I was thinking that perchance you could—"
"Me? What? What are you planning? Oh, Lord," she said as realization seemed to hit her like a lightning bolt, "you want me to rob some graves, do you not?"
Eadyth smiled mirthlessly. "Nay, even I would not go that far. I think if we used some animal bones from the kitchen butcherings, and mangled them a bit, Eirik might not question too closely." She looked hopefully to Britta. "What do you think?"
"I think you are daft."
They had no more time to discuss the plan then because Girta knocked on the chamber door, announcing happily, "Riders approach carrying the Ravenshire colors. It'must be Eirik and young John returning from Glastonbury. Hurry."
Eadyth pulled Britta into a hug, thanking her in a heartfelt whisper. "I will never forget what you are doing for me."
"Methinks I will ne'er forget it, either," Britta grumbled as she went off to gather bones.
Eadyth had just got to the bailey when Eirik and his retainers rode in. John jumped from his horse and rushed into her arms, talking excitedly.
While she hugged and kissed him over and over, he exclaimed, "You should have seen the funeral, Mother. There were ever so many people, and all of 'em cryin' for the king. And there were two hundred white horses with gold bridles. And Prince Edwy and Prince Edgar had their own ponies. And I learned to play dice..."
Eadyth shot a glare at Eirik, who was dismounting. "Dice?"
But John just rushed on, pushing his way with some embarrassment out of her continued embrace, ". . . and King Edred and some priest named Dunstan talked to me about Father, and they, asked me about some man, Steven, I think... leastways, the king and this..."
John rambled on and finally Eadyth shooed him up the castle steps where Larise and Emma were waiting. Eadyth turned then and walked into her husband's arms, holding on to him tightly. She could not stop the tears which streamed down her face. Every moment that she had left with Eirik would be precious.
Eirik looked down at Eadyth with surprise. She had never been so demonstrative in public before. Well, she had been worried about her son's fate, and he and John had been delayed overlong with Dunstan's maneuverings. Relief, no doubt, accounted for her squeezing the very breath from his lungs and the profuse tears which wet the front of his tunic.
More than that, he hoped her embrace meant that she had missed him. As much as he had missed her.
I love her, Eirik thought with wonder. There was no question in his mind now. It had taken only one day away from her for Eirik to come to that realization, but he had not wanted to tell her in his letters. He wanted to see her face the first time he told her of his love.
I love her.
Eirik gazed down at his sobbing wife and smiled. It did not matter if she was shrewish on occasion—more than on occasion, actually, he thought with a rueful smile. And he could put up with her domineering ways—up to a point. Another rueful smile twitched at his lips. As long as she continued to match him in the bed sport... and tell him she loved him... and provide a warm family for him and their children... and...
Eirik's thoughts trailed off as he realized, I just love her. There is no logical reason. She has snared me good and well. The sharp-tongued, waspish witch!
"Shush, dearling," Eirik said, kissing the top of her hair and pulling her to his side with an arm draped over her shoulder.
Wilfrid stepped forward. "There is much I have to report. That starveling Godric is—"
Eirik waved him aside. "Later. I would... comfort my wife first."
"But—"
Eirik ignored Wilfrid and the other servants. Larise and Emma were on the other side of the hall, held back by Girta. Later... later he would greet his children good and proper. For now, he wanted... nay, needed to be alone with his wife.
No sooner had the bedchamber door closed behind them than Eirik pressed Eadyth back against the door with his arms braced over her head. Her eyes were wild and darting about, refusing to meet his. And she whimpered, as if in pain.
"Eadyth, dearling," he said huskily, holding her chin in place, forcing her to look up at him, "have you missed me as much as I have missed you?"
"Desperately. I have longed for you desperately," she admitted without her usual inhibitions.
Eirik's heart expanded in his chest almost to bursting, and his staff began to harden against her. He pressed himself against her belly, to show her how desperately he "longed" for her, as well.
"No doubt there were many beautiful women at Edred's court," she said, tracing his jaw lovingly with a forefinger, then following its path with small kisses.
"No doubt," he said rawly. His blood thickened and his skin grew hot. As his loins grew heavy with want, he had to force himself not to throw his wife to their bed with undue haste.
She arched her hips upward against him, and Eirik gasped. He saw that she wanted him as fiercely as he wanted her.
"And no doubt those women were... available to you."
Does she really think I noticed other women after having her? "No doubt." To his pleasure, he saw her eyes flash with anger.
"And were they sweet and biddable?"
Is that my shrewish Eadyth looking vulnerable and insecure? "No doubt," he said silkily, smiling against her lips.
She nipped at his bottom lip with her teeth to show her displeasure.
He did the same to hers, continuing, "But I had an odd craving for tartness... and a woman who could turn me biddable. Do you perchance know of such a woman?"
"Mayhap." And she smiled against his lips.
Touching the tip of his tongue to her enticing mole, he traced the seam of her lips which parted on an involuntary sigh. "So tell me, my not-so-sweet and not-so-biddable wife, what would you bid me do for you?"
"Ease my ache," she said softly, surprising him. "Can you cure me of this sweet, hot ache which has overcome me?"
Erik's knees almost buckled. He lifted her by the waist so her toes barely touched the floor and braced himself against the vee of her legs.
She moaned and arched her neck back.
"I am nigh blind, Eadyth, you know that—"
She made a growling sound of disbelief.
"—therefore you will have to show me where you... ache."
Through half-slitted, passion-glazed eyes, she gazed up at him. Holding his eyes, she boldly placed one of his hands over her heart.
And he almost lost his fast-slipping control. Gripping her head with both hands, he kissed her with savage intensity, unleashing all the pent-up longing of the past two sennights. Urgently, he claimed her lips, entreating her to open for him, then explored her mouth with his tongue. She almost shattered him with the hunger with which she yielded to his forceful domination, returning his kisses in equal measure.
He wanted to devour her. He wanted her to devour him.
He wanted to sear her with the heat that was burning him up. He wanted her to envelop him with her own hot fires.
He wanted to love her until the end of time. And he wanted
her to return that love.
But all he could say was, "Eadyth," softly, wonderingly, over and over, between kisses and frantic caresses and an arousal that grew and grew and grew. Finally, he tore his mouth from hers, breathing raggedly. He could take no more. Lifting her into his arms, he walked a few short steps and laid her gently on the bed.
With jerky, urgent movements, they helped each other disrobe, sometimes tearing cloth in their haste. When they were both naked, gasping for air, Eirik leaned over Eadyth, straddling her body. He put a hand between them, touching the dampness of her maiden hair with familiarity.
"You are ready for me, Eadyth," he rasped out.
"For days I have been ready for you, my husband. Mayhap a lifetime," she confessed on a broken whisper.
"I have been thinking about us like this for days," he said gritting his teeth as he entered her moist silk, slowly, so slowly he could barely breathe. Her hot sheath spasmed around him in welcome, its folds shifting to accommodate his growing size. And hot woman dew gushed out of her body, anointing him with her pleasure.
Eadyth made a slow keening sound of pleasure-pain and wrapped her long legs around his waist.
He drove her with long, excruciatingly slow strokes to the point of madness—his and hers, both—then stopped, and started all over again. He knelt, still impaling her, and arched her body upward so her breasts met his thirsty mouth. As he suckled, then plucked gently with his teeth on the aching buds, she convulsed around him with violent shivers. But he would not let himself go.
He filled her. He consumed her. He wanted all she had to give and then more.
He was beside her, over her, under her, around her—touching, kissing, pressing. He could not tell where her slick body ended and his began. Her flailing, keening body called to a primitive side of his soul.
"Let it happen," she pleaded incoherently.
Desire roared in his ears like wild wind on a stormy sea.
He raised himself on straightened arms and arched his shoulders back. "Look at me, Eadyth," he demanded in a thickened voice. When she raised her eyelids only slightly, gazing up at him dreamily, he ordered, "Nay, open your eyes. Really look at me."
When he had her full attention, Eirik pulled himself almost completely outside her body. "I love you, Eadyth. Do you hear me? I... love... you."
Her eyes grew wide, misting with tears, and then she smiled. A beautiful, soft, heart-stopping smile, like a caress. "I love you, too. Oh, Eirik, I love you, too. Always remember that."
He gave himself freely to his passion then, pummeling her willing, spasming body with harder and shorter strokes until he embedded himself in the heart of her and filled her with his seed. He cried out once again, "I love you, Eadyth," before he fell heavily on her.
An amazing sense of completeness enveloped him as he slowly came to his senses, rolling to his side and taking Eadyth with him. This wonderful thing that had just happened to them was so much more than a physical act. He tried to find the words to tell Eadyth of his feelings as he stroked her smooth shoulder, her silky hair. But then he noticed that Eadyth was weeping silently, profusely.
He leaned up on one elbow to look at his wife, his beloved wife. "So this is how you react to my first words of love to you, Eadyth?" he teased, oddly hurt by her tears.
She tried to smile, and failed. Caressing his cheek, she murmured, "Your love means everything in the world to me, Eirik. Know that, always."
Always? The word had an ominous ring to Eirik's ears. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her more closely. Damn his bleary eyes! He squinted and drew back slightly to see better. Dark shadows marked the undersides of her eyes and tension bracketed her tight lips. Had she looked like this when he arrived? Or had his lovemaking caused her dismay? Or worse yet, his words of love?
"Tell me what troubles you, Eadyth," he demanded, sitting up. "How have I displeased you?"
"Oh, nay, 'tis not you," Eadyth reassured him, then shifted her eyes away guiltily, as if to hide some secret. Even with his poor sight, he could see that she seemed to be gathering her senses. She told him about Godric being missing and how she had been lost in the woods. But she deliberately looked away when he questioned her icily about having disobeyed his orders and leaving the keep and about exactly what section of the forest she had been lost in.
"We will find Godric," he promised her and saw that her eyes darted nervously. He took her trembling hands in his and asked, "Is that all, Eadyth?"
She nodded, but her eyes had a faraway, unreachable cast.
"And you have had no more encounters with Steven?" he asked, lying back down beside her, tracing a fingertip lazily down her arm, then kissing the inside of her wrist.
She shivered, whether from his touch or the question, he could not tell. Then she shook her head. Eirik peered closer and saw that her face had flushed.
"Why would you ask about Steven?" she asked tentatively, and clenched her fists tightly at her sides.
Eirik shrugged, a dull ache of foreboding creeping over the back of his neck. "No reason. You just seem jittery and... frightened."
He felt her pulse jump in her wrist. Looking at her closely, he studied every telling reaction. "And that is all?"
She hesitated. "Yea."
And Eirik knew his wife was lying through her teeth. The woman to whom he had just pledged his undying love was keeping secrets again. A raw and primitive grief overwhelmed him.
Women and lies, the ageless, combination! Bloody Hell! Would he never learn?
Chapter Nineteen
"They are both hiding something," Wilfrid told Eirik just past dawn the next morning as they broke their fast, alone in the great hall. He thumped his goblet down angrily, spilling some watered ale on the table. "Britta and your lady wife had their heads together all of yesterday. Whenever I asked Britta what it was about, she nigh trembled out of her skin."
"Eadyth is the same," Eirik said miserably. In his fury last night, he had been unable to bear the thought of making love to his wife again. She had lost her appeal after he realized she was involved in some new deceit, especially when she stubbornly refused to tell him the truth. He would not even share her bed, despite her tearful protests. Instead, he had laid his head on one of the hall pallets. But he had not slept.
"Mayhap they are just worried about Godric," Wilfrid offered unconvincingly.
"We all are, but I know there is more. God's Bones, did you hear the lame excuse Eadyth gave for being gone from the keep while I was away? I never heard so much stuttering and stammering and outright lying in all my life."
"So you do not believe she was lost in the forest?"
Eirik made a snorting sound of disbelief. "I am furious that Eadyth left the keep against my orders. The woman's willfulness staggers the senses. But, even worse, there are no forests close to the keep and none so thick that a person could not soon find a way out."
"Eirlik, I know you are angry, but there must be an explanation."
"There is no excuse for lying. None. Eadyth knows how important honesty is to me, and still she deliberately deceives me, again.
Wilfrid sat up straighter. "I just thought of something else. The Lady Eadyth has been behaving strangely in other ways since her return. She has been buzzing about the keep in a most frantic fashion—"
"She always buzzes," Eirik said, "or 'nags, or orders, or 'manages.' "
Wilfrid waved his hand dismissively. "Nay, I mean that she was making odd lists for one and all. A calendar of chores for each and every Ravenshire servant to complete for the next year. A list of repairs needed in the keep and the cotters' huts. Items to be ordered from Jorvik. Instructions on how to care for her bees and her bee products. 'Tis almost as if..." Wilfrid's eyes widened with shock.
"What?"
" 'Tis almost like a dying person putting his affairs in order," Wilfrid said.
Eirik laughed mirthiessly. "Eadyth is as healthy as a mule. A mean, stubborn, braying mule." With the morals of a snake. He considered Wilfrid's
words, nonetheless, as he stroked his upper lip, deep in thought. "I am sure there is some connection here betwixt her and Britta conspiring, Godric's absence, her list making, and... I hate to say this... Steven of Gravely. You can be sure I will get to the bottom of this puzzle, but I will never, never, trust the woman again."
Wilfrid nodded gravely.
"See what you can find out."
Eirik was about to go up to his bedchamber and confront Eadyth once again when Wilfrid signaled him to come over to the door leading to the bailey.
"Bloody Hell!" Eirik exclaimed as he saw Jeremy, Eadyth's stoneworker from Hawks' Lair, driving an overloaded wagon through the gate. He and Wilfrid descended the stone steps and walked up to the building where the cart had stopped. There were enough woven bee hives, pottery containers for honey, straining cloths, candle molds and kitchen supplies to last Ravenshire for a year. "What in the name of all the saints is this?" Eirik demanded of the startled servant.
Jeremy shrugged, backing away from Eirik's stormy countenance. "My lady sent me to Jorvik yestermorn with a long list."
"A list!" Eirik and Wilfrid both said, giving each other speaking looks.
"And you drove all through the night to get here just past dawn? What prompted your haste?"
Jeremy shook his head uncertainly. "My lady said there was urgency."
"For honey pots?"
"My lord," Jeremy said impatiently. "I do what my lady orders. 'Tis not fer me to question."
Eirik told Jeremy to unload the cart, but not before the servant handed him a large, linen-wrapped parcel.
"What is this?" Eirik snapped.
"More fabric fer beekeeping veils. Wouldst you give it to the mistress? And tell her that her agent sez this be the last of it he could find in all of Jorvik. And he is sore angry with her fer demandin'—"
Eirik turned away rudely from the servant in mid-sentence, too angry to be polite. He headed toward the keep. Her agent was not the only one "sore angry" with Eadyth. He intended to confront his lady wife once again and get some answers this time.
"Here comes trouble," Abdul squawked when Eirik entered the bedchamber. In no mood for shrewish carping, whether from a parrot or his wife, Eirik threw a mantle over the cage. But the damn bird got the last word in, muttering, "Loathsome lout! Awk!"