She frowned and hunched her shoulders, but it was too late.
Eirik gripped her chin tightly in one hand and tilted her face to the light. “Your skin does not have its usual grayish tint today. Nor is it as wrinkled or aged as I had thought it to be.”
Eadyth could barely control the trembling of her lips under his intent scrutiny. “I have been out in the sun a great deal in your absence. The bronzing of the sun enhances the healthy appearance of all skin for a while, do you not think?”
He did not look convinced.
“Besides, good skin runs in my family. ‘Tis said my grandmother had nary a wrinkle when she died after fifty-two years.”
Oh, Lord! Eadyth despaired. This should be the perfect opportunity for her to confess her masquerade, but in view of Eirik’s present mood she feared his reaction. With the marriage not yet consummated, he could easily put her aside. Dare she take a chance with honesty? Nay, she decided to wait just a bit longer until she had cleared up the misunderstanding about Steven.
She needed to divert his attention. “Well, if you refuse to shave your mustache, at least close your eyes again so I can dig amongst the spiny hairs.”
Eirik grumbled something, but the words were unintelligible with her left hand clamped over his mouth. Actually, the bristly hairs felt sensuously sleek under her probing fingers, and Eadyth could not help but remember how his mustache had felt during that one erotic, mind-jarring kiss in this very chamber.
Eirik seemed to have remembered, as well, for when she stepped away, his voice was husky. “Are you done?”
“Yea, but turn around again. I need to apply something soothing to the wounds to prevent swelling.”
The servants had carried a tub full of steaming water into the room during her ministrations, as well as the salt and onions she had requested. She poured the entire crock full of salt into the bathwater, then turned to the table where her knife still lay. She sliced a large onion in half and began to rub it over Eirik’s back in a sweeping motion.
“Aaah! That feels so good.”
“I thought it would. Now, stand so I can do your legs.”
As she knelt and worked briskly, Eadyth felt the powerful muscles of Eirik’s legs stiffen suddenly.
“What is that ungodly smell?”
“Onion.”
With a curse, he reached down and pulled her to her feet. At first, he just stared incredulously at the white half-globe in her hand, then to the onion-induced tears which had begun to stream down her face.
“God’s Bones! Do you truly dare to cover my body with smelly onion juice? ‘Tis a jest you play whilst my body is in misery?”
“Nay, everyone knows that onion juice is the best thing to reduce the swelling of bee stings.”
“Well, everyone can go to bloody hell.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him to the tub. He handed her a cloth and a bar of hard soap, ordering, “You will wash every drop of it off my skin or I will stuff onions down your throat ’til the juice comes out your ears.”
He sank into the hot water, then immediately shot up, standing upright. “Ouch! That burns like hellfire. What is in the water?”
“Salt.”
Stepping out of the tub, he grabbed her by the forearms and lifted her off the floor so that they eyed each other, nose to nose.
“You would rub salt in my wounds, as well? Truly, woman, you have passed the bounds of brashness and have now entered the arena of stupidity.”
He shook her so hard she could not think clearly, then dropped her abruptly to her feet on the floor. She stared dumbly at him, his handsome face twisted into an ugly mask of fury.
“How would you like it if I rubbed your body raw with sand, then put you in a tub of salt water?”
“You cannot be serious.”
“Oh, can I not?”
She backed away, stuttering in a rush of words, “You just do not understand… do not touch me… oh, now you got my gown wet… stop it… salt will stop the stings from swelling and prevent them from festering… truly, listen to me… oh, you loathsome lou…”