“Oh… oh… you really are a wicked man. When did you last attend confession? Surely, the priests must wring their hands with glee when you arrive in the confessional. No doubt, you are weighed down for weeks afterward with heavy penances.”
“Always,” he replied, unabashed.
Eadyth stared at him, speechless, trying hard not to imagine the scandalous sins he might have to confess.
Eirik raked his hands through his hair, seeming to search for the proper words. Finally, he stared at her levelly. “Eadyth, I would like to make love with you. Very much. Will you let me?” he asked in a low, raspy voice.
“Nay.” Dear Blessed Mother, keep me from being tempted. Dear Blessed Mother, keep me from being tempted. Dear Blessed…
“Please.”
Eadyth bit her lower lip and dug her nails into the palms of her fisted hands, trying desperately not to remember the way this wicked man had made her feel earlier that day.
Eirik stepped a little closer, and she almost moaned aloud at the sweet need she saw in his parted lips. His pale blue eyes swept her almost nude body like a delicious, sensuous caress. And every spot they touched turned warm and yearning. Eadyth felt herself weakening and tried even harder to resist his charms.
“Not even if you stand on your head, totally naked, and wag that tail that stands to attention betwixt your legs,” she asserted brazenly, hoping to shock him away with her crudity.
Instead, he laughed appreciatively. “You will never let me forget that tale I told of the caliph and his mud ugly wife, will you?”
“That was not the caliph story, you dimwit. That was the merchant from Micklegaard, and his wife looked like the back end of a mule,” she corrected him.
Eirik raised both brows. “The brilliance of your memory stuns me.”
“I would like to stun you, all right. You and all the ridiculous stories you told me. Twelve times! You must have been laughing yourself into Kingdom Come at my gullibility.”
“Twelve what?” he asked, puzzled, and moved a little closer.
Eadyth sidled to the left, uncomfortable with his nearness, even though he had promised not to force her in the bedding. “Yea, twelve times, you dolt. You told me a man could… you know… that peak thing… twelve times. Hah! Two times was an ordeal for you.”
“Oh, so now you taunt me about my manly capabilities, do you? A dangerous game, Eadyth. Very dangerous. Mayhap I planned to complete the ‘peaking’ thing when we returned to Ravenshire. After all, there are twenty-four hours in the day, and we only spent one hour in that glen.”
Eadyth frowned, unsure if he was serious or teasing her again. He was rubbing his hairless upper lip in his usual manner, still missing his mustache, and she could not see the expression on his lips. Twelve times! Was that really possible? “Well, little difference it makes to me if you grunt and groan once or fifty times, it will not happen again with me.”
“Grunt and groan! Really, Eadyth, you have a way with words that is not seemly for a woman.”
“You knew my language was unseemly afore you married me.”
“But I did not know how beautiful you are, and now that I do, I want to make love with you.”
Eadyth’s heart skipped a beat at his enticing words. “Will you take away your lackwit rules?”
Eadyth thought she heard the grinding of Eirik’s teeth.
“Nay, my ‘lackwit rules’ stand… for now. Will you trust me, Eadyth, that I know what is best… for now?”
“You ask too much,” she said on a soft groan
He threw his hands out in resignation. “I will not beg.” He turned then and walked away from her toward the bed.
Her eyes widened, but she could not turn away when he sat down and removed his leather boots, then drew the wool tunic over his head. He held her eyes the whole time as he stood and unlaced his braies, letting them drop at his feet.
Eadyth gave a quick intake of breath at his wonderful body, with all its hard surfaces of muscle and sinew, silky hair and masculine curves… and hard, hard manhood standing out in invitation to her. She should close her eyes to shut out the temptation. She did not.