Then, with the door locked behind them, Eirik began to light the many beeswax candles scattered around the room. Eadyth’s heart was beating so loudly, she was sure he could hear it across the room. She leaned against the closed door, almost light-headed from her thickened blood and heavy limbs.
Oh, Lord.
“You do not need candles now. ‘Tis daylight outside,” she remarked nervously, still propped against the door.
“Yea, but you know I have a vision problem. And I want to make sure I see everything today.” He flashed her another of his bone-melting smiles.
Oh, Lord.
“You can see well enough when you want to. Do you know how much those candles cost?” she said, weakly searching for conversation, hating the sudden reticence that had overcome her once the door closed.
“Do you know how much I do not care?”
She started to reprimand Eirik for his spendthrift ways, then stopped when she saw him hop about on one foot, then the other, as he removed his boots. Then he lifted his tunic over his head. His eyes glowed with a savage inner fire as they held hers captive. Unable to look away, she watched as he released the ties on his braies and dropped them to the rushes, stepping out of them easily.
Boldly, he took his hardened manhood in his hand and said in low, strangled voice, “Do you see how much I want you, wife? Do you want me half as much?”
Twice as much, Eadyth thought as she felt a hot liquid pool at her center. The tips of her breasts ruched and ached. And he had not even touched her yet.
Oh, Lord.
“Disrobe for me, Eadyth,” he entreated in a low, throaty voice. “Take off your garments whilst I watch.”
And Eadyth surprised herself by doing as he bid. Shyly, she moved away from the door a few steps and undid the belt of her gunna, letting it drop to the floor. With the edges of her toes, she removed her leather slippers, then removed her overtunic and chemise.
She should have been embarrassed to stand naked before a man, but she was not. Eirik was not just a man. He was her husband. And the pleasure she saw on his face as his eyes scanned her body gladdened her.
“You are beautiful, Eadyth,” he whispered rawly. And Eadyth did feel beautiful then, for the first time in many, many years.
“Touch the tips of your breasts with your fingertips, Eadyth,” he coaxed, still standing a short distance from her. “I want to see your pleasure as you imagine they are my hands on you.”
“Oh,” she said on a soft whisper, but did as he asked, and almost swooned with the intense yearning that radiated, almost painfully, from her nipples.
“Now leave one hand on your breast and place the other at your nether hair. And tell me what you feel.”
Eadyth felt a hot flush sweep her face and shoulders. “Desire,” she whispered in embarrassment.
” ‘Tis your body readying itself for me, Eadyth,” he barely choked out, and closed the distance between them.
She tried to put her arms around his neck and draw him into her embrace, but he would not allow it yet. “Nay, sweetling, we are going to go slowly this time… very slowly.” He kissed her lips lightly and took her hand, leading her over to the window well. “Stand here,” he directed. Then placing her against the wall, near the light of the window, he positioned her arms so that her fingers were clasped behind her neck.
“Oh, I do not know if I like this,” she protested. “Let us lie on the bed, Eirik.”
“Nay, not quite yet. We are going to play a game first.”
“A game?” she choked out.
“Yea, the feather game.”
“I do not understand.”
“You will. You will.”
“And what do I get if I win?”
“Me.”
She laughed scoffingly. “And what do you get if you win?”
“You.”
Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. ” ‘Tis the same thing, is it not?”
“Oh, nay, there is a vast difference. ‘Tis all in playing the game. Now, first off, you must not remove your hands from behind your neck. Not even a bit. Or you lose. And I may not touch you with anything other than a feather, not my hands or lips, or I lose.”