Eirik could not chance Steven getting his depraved hands on Eadyth, and he knew his stubborn wife would never willingly restrict herself to the inside of the keep. When it came to her own safety, she was too lax. Oh, she would promise to take care, but the first time a new lamb birthed, or her bees swarmed, or she heard of a bargain to be had on some piddling product in Jorvik, she would leave the defenses of Ravenshire without a thought for her well-being.
“You make too much of my willful ways,” she argued, interrupting his thoughts. She continued to lie immersed in the cooling bathwater, and he wanted so much to tell her that her willful ways were part of her charm. He wanted to pull her from the tub, into his arms, and resume where they had left off earlier that day in the glen.
But he could not. Not yet. “Willful! You underestimate your temperament, my lady. If I am to stay at Ravenshire, I must have the respect of my men and my people.”
“But—”
Eirik held up a hand to stop her next words. “There can be only one master of a keep. And I am it, my lady.”
She eyed him warily. “So I am to be punished for my headstrong ways. Is that what this prison is about?” she asked, waving her hand to indicate the locked room.
” ‘Tis a prison only if you want it to be.”
She raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Exactly what is it you ask of me?”
“We can discuss the details later,” he said, reaching for a drying towel. “You are turning blue with cold.”
She knocked the towel he handed her to the floor. “Tell me.” Her eyes glittered furiously, and she panted through parted lips. Deliciously parted lips.
Could he tell her the truth about Steven and his fears for her? Nay, he decided, ’twas too dangerous a risk to take until he had more time to ensure her obedience. He must protect her at all costs. Steeling himself, he continued, “I will make all decisions related to Ravenshire—its defenses, its farms and crops, its cotters and thralls. ‘Twill not be necessary for you to leave the walls of the keep. If you have aught to suggest about the management of Ravenshire, I will listen, of course, but the final decision will be mine, as it should be.”
“And in your absence?”
“Really, Eadyth, you make too much of this.”
“And in your absence?” she demanded icily.
This conversation was not going at all the way Eirik had planned. Oh, he had known Eadyth would protest his new rules, but he had not expected to feel so guilty. “You will confer with Wilfrid in my absence.”
“Confer or defer?”
Eirik felt his face turn hot, and he refused to answer.
“And my beekeeping business? Will you take that away from me, too?”
“Eadyth, I am taking naught away from you. You should be glad I remove these burdens from your shoulders.” Even he realized how weak his arguments sounded as he floundered for the right words. “You will be free to—”
“I asked you a question, husband. Please give me the courtesy of an answer,” she sneered. “What about my beekeeping business?”
“You may continue to tend your bees and make your honey and mead and candles, but I do not want you going into Jorvik to conduct your business. ‘Tis too dangerous. And unseemly.”
“You bastard!”
Furious, she stood in the tub, swishing water over the sides, uncaring of her nudity. For one brief moment, Eirik’s blood rushed to all his vital parts and his heart slammed against his rib cage as he glimpsed Eadyth’s statuesque beauty.
But then she grabbed the small drying cloth, holding it in front of her body, and said in a calm, icy voice, “Get out. Get out of this chamber afore I kill you with my bare hands. I do not care if you lock me in this chamber for the rest of my life. I will never agree to those terms. Never.”
Tears filled her luminous eyes, but she blinked repeatedly, stubbornly refusing to allow them to flow. Eirik felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach.