“Tell her naught but that her husband demands her return. I can do my own explaining.”
“I will no doubt have to gag her,” Wilfrid muttered as he walked off to do his master’s bidding. “And she will have my hide, in one way or another, in her own good time. No doubt set me to cleaning the garderobes. Again.”
* * *
Eadyth was, in fact, gagged and tied to the saddle of her horse when they arrived back at Ravenshire near dawn. As Wilfrid began to undo her bindings, she glared at him icily. She would deal with the oaf later. Right now, she had a knave to kill. A black-haired, blue-eyed knave. And he was nowhere in sight.
‘Twas bad enough that Eirik demanded her return so peremptorily, but he had not cared enough to come for her himself. Truly he considered her mere chattel, Eadyth thought, trying hard to squelch a groan of despair. She must remain angry, not let the loathsome lout see how much he had hurt her with his betrayal and lack of caring.
Eadyth stomped up the steps as the new sun rose on the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant red. Servants gathered to watch her ascent, wide-eyed with curiosity, many of them giggling. She heard some mention veils and wobbling and knew Bertha’s tongue had been at its usual work.
She entered Eirik’s bedchamber without knocking. The empty room had been tidied, and a plump mattress and coverlet graced the newly repaired bed. All of the spent candles had been taken away and new, unlit ones—dozens of them had been placed in their holders. Well, she would have something to say to someone about this waste of her hard-earned wares.
Turning on her heels, Eadyth was about to go back down the stairs and look for her loathsome lout of a husband when she heard a soft, mewling sound, like a wounded cat. It seemed to be coming from the guest chamber. Backtracking, Eadyth laid a hand on the door and opened it gently.
Eirik was sitting in a high-backed chair, cradling a beautiful, golden-haired child who wept softly in her near-sleep as she snuggled against his chest. Her vicious, loathsome lout of a husband was crooning tenderly, “Hush, sweet Emma. No one can hurt you now. Hush, now. Hush.”
Eadyth realized, in that instant, that the “beautiful girl” Eirik had referred to in his missive was his precious little daughter. Eadyth put the back of her hand to her mouth in horror at her mistake.
Eirik looked up then, his furious eyes holding hers steadily. And Eadyth knew she would pay dearly.
Silently, without saying a word, Eadyth closed the door after her and went back to Eirik’s bedchamber. Sitting on the side of the bed, she awaited her punishment, which was sure to come. She had challenged his authority one time too many.
* * *
Eirik entered their bedchamber a short time later, closing and locking the door, then leaning back against it lazily. The whole time, he held her eyes, his rigid face betraying none of his emotion, or intent. But Eadyth knew he was angry. Very angry.
Into the silence, Abdul decided to contribute his sage wisdom. “Lecherous lout. Awk. Seducer of virgins. Awk. Traitorous troll. Awk. Weak-willed son of Satan. Awk. Silk-tongued liar. Awk.” All were delivered in a perfectly delivered imitation of Eadyth’s voice.
She groaned.
“Huge cat. Huge cat. Awk. Comin’ soon. Comin’ soon. Awk. Dead bird. Dead bird. Awk. Awk. Awk.”
Eirik’s face remained rigid with fury.
“Eirik, let me explain—”
“Yea, that would be a start,” he said with stony dryness and moved away from the door. He poured two goblets of wine and handed one to her. Despite the hour, Eadyth accepted the drink, feeling a tightening in her throat.
He propped a shoulder against the wall near the bed and waited, twirling the stem of the goblet in his hands with frightening casualness.
Eadyth drank the remainder of her wine in three quick gulps, then set the goblet on the floor at her feet. “I was angry that you locked me in your bedchamber after…”
She gulped.
He waited.