He sneered at her question but answered anyway. “There are a few on the Witan who will not heed the new king’s orders. They believe your husband’s claims of paternity… or seek his good favors. In the end, the Witan will grant me custody, you can be sure of that, but time is of the essence. I cannot wait. Quite simply, Eirik must die, and you will perform the deed.”
He jerked her to her feet then. “But first, we go to, Jorvik to gather my son.”
“I think not,” a steely voice said behind them.
Eadyth looked back to see Eirik emerging from the kitchen, sword raised, and a dozen men coming behind him. Others came from the bailey and even more from beyond the orchard.
Steven tightened his hold on her bound body and held the dagger harder against her throat, drawing blood. Eadyth saw Eirik’s eyes rivet angrily on her neck and feared he would act precipitously.
“John is not here, or in Jorvik. You will never, see him again, Gravely. In truth, you will not live to see another day,” Eirik said in a hard, ruthless tone as he advanced slowly.
Steven laughed harshly. “I think not, you bastard, unless you wish your sweet wife to go to her reward with me.” He pressed the knife deeper, and Eadyth felt wet rivulets running down her neck and under her tunic.
Eirik’s thinned lips twitched with tension, and he halted in his progress toward them.
“A trade then,” Eirik offered with obvious reluctance. “Your escape for Eadyth’s freedom.”
“You have no bartering power. The bitch goes with me. Methinks you would not risk Eadyth’s life, though I fail to see its worth.”
” ‘Tis worth much to me,” Eirik said huskily, holding Eadyth’s eyes significantly for a moment. Then he looked back to Steven. “But I would kill you, and endanger her life as well, afore I would allow you to take her from my keeping. Take your loathsome hands from my wife’s body.”
Heedless of the danger, Steven cackled demonically and pressed the knife tighter, placing his other hand familiarly over her breast and squeezing. Eadyth moaned with the pain and saw Eirik’s hands clench tightly at his sides as he tried desperately to restrain his temper.
Steven started to back up, taking her with him. With each step backward he took, Eirik and his men moved forward, carefully.
“I give you my oath,” Eirik said finally, when they were almost at the point where Steven’s horse was tethered to a tree, “if you will release Eadyth now, I will not follow you for at least one hour. Nor will any of my men.”
Steven hesitated, seeming to consider Eirik’s vow.
“You know I honor my oaths, Steven. Give over, for now.”
Finally, Steven nodded and leapt up into his saddle, viciously kicking Eadyth to the ground in the process. Eadyth could not fail to hear his alarming message to her as he rode off.
“I will be back, Eadyth.”
Chapter Eighteen
Eirik insisted on carrying her back to the keep and up to their bedchamber, where he wiped the blood off her neck with gentle care and tried to wrap a linen around the wound. He shooed a clucking Girta away, declining her offers to minister to Eadyth. “I am capable of caring for my own wife,” he said huskily. “Go off and tend to Britta. She is sore distraught.”
Eadyth kept telling Eirik it was just a deep scratch and refused to have it bound. “Blessed Saint Beatrice!” she finally snapped, swatting his fussing hands away. “You will have me looking like Bertha with her elephant dressing. Besides, air will heal the cut best.”
“Lie quietly for a while, Eadyth, and stop trying to ‘manage’ everything. You have suffered a great shock today,” he rebuked her with a soft smile. Sitting on the edge of the bed next to her, he brushed the curly strands of hair off her face as he spoke and kissed the tips of her fingers. Eadyth could not fail to see the concern in his rigid jaw and stormy eyes. His gentle ministration bespoke more than husbandly duty, and she was hopeful that he was growing to care for her more.