Uh oh. Eadyth was not too besotted with Eirik’s lustful touch to know she would be in even bigger trouble if they were left alone. “Nay, I am all right now. ‘Twas just a… a stomach cramp,” she said quickly.
But the men were already moving ahead of them, and Eirik was smiling down at her with supreme satisfaction as he guided the horse toward the stream. But he did not stop there. Instead, he crossed the stream, moving the horse into a secluded spot on the other side. Deftly, he dismounted and tied the horse’s reins to a small tree near the water’s edge.
She started to pull the hem of her gown down now that Eirik was no longer at her back with the protective cover of the mantle, but Eirik reached up a hand, restraining her.
“Nay, I want to look at you,” he demanded huskily, and Eadyth saw now that he was not as cool and composed from all his fondling as she had thought. His pale eyes glimmered with passion, and his firm lips were turgid and parted with longing.
Oh, Lord.
Forcibly he pushed her hands to her sides, then lifted the hem of her gown to her waist. Silently he stared at her most intimate woman parts, glistening with a strange, dewy moisture. He inhaled sharply, probably in shock at her vulgar display.
Eadyth bent her head in shame, and a hot tear slid down her cheek and onto his hand which lay on her exposed thigh.
“Eadyth! Why do you weep?” he exclaimed softly, picking her up off the horse by the waist and standing her in front of him. Putting a fingertip under her chin, he lifted her face and asked again in a puzzled tone, “Why are you crying?”
Tears were streaming from her eyes now. “Because I am ashamed.”
“Of what?” he asked with surprise. “The way I touched you?”
“Yea, but more than that…” Her words trailed off. She could not finish her shameful confession.
Eirik cocked his head quizzically, and then his face brightened with understanding. “Oh, Eadyth, there is no shame in a woman’s passion, especially with her wedded mate. Look how my body shows its need for you, and I am not at all ashamed.”
“Anything so pleasurable must be a sin. And I am as perverted as you, for surely women would be shouting the news to the world if they were getting as much… as much… delight from a man’s touch. Sweet Mother of God, you turn me mindless with your devilish fingers. Mindless! Oh, I will never be a good chatelaine again, or manage my business affairs wisely, knowing I am as weak as any other woman.”
“It pleases me immensely to know that my touch makes you mindless,” Eirik said softly, and for once he was not laughing at her in boast. “And somehow I think you will manage to be as strong-willed as ever.”
He pulled her toward a flat, grassy plot away from the stream and threw his wide mantle onto the ground. Then he removed his silver belt and sat down, slipping off his short leather boots.
“What are you doing?” she asked, wiping the last of her tears with the sleeve of her gown.
He drew his tunic over his head and stood before her, barechested and barefoot. “Taking off my garments.”
He undid the laces of his braies and was about to pull them down when she cried out in alarm, “Why?”
“So I can make love to my wife, good and proper,” he said matter-of-factly and dropped his leggings to the ground.
“Here?” she squeaked out. “Outdoors? In the daylight?”
He just grinned and nodded, then stood before her with maddening boldness, totally naked. She saw more bare skin than she had ever seen on a male, from his wide shoulders to his tapering waist and slim hips, past a staff so erect she thought he might burst, to long muscled legs and narrow feet. He held out his arms to her in invitation, and Eadyth thought she might just die.
The man was outrageously handsome. And he was her husband. And her body thrummed with the hot fires he had ignited with his flaming touch. And she wanted him. And she didn’t want him. And, oh, Lord.