Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 03] by The Tarnished Lady Page B

or…or…whatever ’tis you do.” She refused to mention his other women again and open herself up for further ridicule.
    Eirik grinned at her tiptoeing over the issue of his mistresses. “You will stay at Ravenshire,” he stated implacably, “and occasionally travel back to Hawks’ Lair, at my sufferance.”
    Eadyth assessed him over the table, weighing her options. “I agree, on condition I may keep all proceeds of my beekeeping in a separate household account in my name.”
    Eirik nodded stiffly.
    “And you understand that Hawks’ Lair is to be held in your guardianship only ’til John reaches his majority.”
    He nodded once again, piercing her with a withering glare. “I have no desire to take your piddling coins, nor your son’s inheritance. But there is one other condition which I demand, on which there will be no compromising— ever.”
    His eyes were like shards of blue ice, glittering with some fierce emotion as he spoke. He clenched his fists so tightly that the knuckles whitened, and a pulse beat rapidly, disarmingly, as the base of his exposed neck.
    For a moment, his suppressed rage frightened Eadyth, and she wondered once again if this marriage to the Lord of Ravenshire was such a good idea, after all. Truly, she did not know this man. He could be as bad, or worse, than John’s father. Was it too late to cry off?
    With lightning swiftness, Eirik grabbed her chin tightly and forced her to look into the bottomless pools of his eyes.
    “Understand me well, lady. There will be no contact betwixt you and Steven of Gravely.”
    Eadyth gasped, but before she could speak, he went on in a controlled voice, “If ever I find you have so much as looked at him with yearning, or touched his putrid body, I swear afore the Holy Grail I will kill you both with my bare hands.”
    The intensity of hatred in Eirik’s words momentarily stunned her. Then outrage took over. She stood angrily and sputtered, “How dare you imply I would have aught to do with Steven? I have already told you of his perfidy toward me and his devious plans to take my son John. You insult me by even thinking I could bear his repulsive touch.”
    “You loved him once,” he pointed out accusingly.
    Eadyth had explained her actions once. She stubbornly refused to do so again.
    Eirik’s face remained rigid. “You will not play me false with Steven, my lady. Ever! Swear a holy oath. Assure me of your fidelity.”
    Oddly, he did not demand that she shun other men, only Steven. She knew her reasons for hating Steven. What were Eirik’s? She started to ask, but his implacable expression told her that now was not the time. She sat back down, vowing to explore the mystery later.
    “I give you my oath as an honest woman: I will never betray my marriage vows…with Steven of Gravely… or any other man .”
    The harsh lines in Eirik’s face smoothed a bit, but then he grabbed her wrist and pulled it toward him on the table. She watched, mesmerized, as he laid her hand flat on the hard surface, palm up, and ran a forefinger back and forth lightly over the pale skin of her wrist.
    The barest touch of his finger, a whisper of a caress, ignited sweet tingles of sensitivity which ricocheted sensuously up her arm, to her breasts, causing the tips to harden into tiny pebbles of aching need. Eadyth inhaled sharply, alarmed at this new feeling of helpless yearning. She tried to pull away, but Eirik held her hand fast.
    His head tilted questioningly and his eyes narrowed as he studied her closely.
    “When you are not frowning, you do not look so aged. How old did you say you are?” he asked, without warning, in a suspicious tone of voice.
    Eadyth could see the erotic luminosity hazing his eyes and knew the touch affected him as much as it had her. At the same time, he obviously puzzled over his uncharacteristic attraction to an aging woman. Thank the saints for the dimness of the chamber. Before she had a chance to respond or turn her face away from