Eadyth shot a glare at Eirik, who was dismounting. “Dice?”
But John just rushed on, pushing his way with some embarrassment out of her continued embrace, “. . . and King Edred and some priest named Dunstan talked to me about Father, and they, asked me about some man, Steven, I think… leastways, the king and this…”
John rambled on and finally Eadyth shooed him up the castle steps where Larise and Emma were waiting. Eadyth turned then and walked into her husband’s arms, holding on to him tightly. She could not stop the tears which streamed down her face. Every moment that she had left with Eirik would be precious.
Eirik looked down at Eadyth with surprise. She had never been so demonstrative in public before. Well, she had been worried about her son’s fate, and he and John had been delayed overlong with Dunstan’s maneuverings. Relief, no doubt, accounted for her squeezing the very breath from his lungs and the profuse tears which wet the front of his tunic.
More than that, he hoped her embrace meant that she had missed him. As much as he had missed her.
I love her, Eirik thought with wonder. There was no question in his mind now. It had taken only one day away from her for Eirik to come to that realization, but he had not wanted to tell her in his letters. He wanted to see her face the first time he told her of his love.
I love her.
Eirik gazed down at his sobbing wife and smiled. It did not matter if she was shrewish on occasion—more than on occasion, actually, he thought with a rueful smile. And he could put up with her domineering ways—up to a point. Another rueful smile twitched at his lips. As long as she continued to match him in the bed sport… and tell him she loved him… and provide a warm family for him and their children… and…
Eirik’s thoughts trailed off as he realized, I just love her. There is no logical reason. She has snared me good and well. The sharp-tongued, waspish witch!
“Shush, dearling,” Eirik said, kissing the top of her hair and pulling her to his side with an arm draped over her shoulder.
Wilfrid stepped forward. “There is much I have to report. That starveling Godric is—”
Eirik waved him aside. “Later. I would… comfort my wife first.”
“But—”
Eirik ignored Wilfrid and the other servants. Larise and Emma were on the other side of the hall, held back by Girta. Later… later he would greet his children good and proper. For now, he wanted… nay, needed to be alone with his wife.
No sooner had the bedchamber door closed behind them than Eirik pressed Eadyth back against the door with his arms braced over her head. Her eyes were wild and darting about, refusing to meet his. And she whimpered, as if in pain.
“Eadyth, dearling,” he said huskily, holding her chin in place, forcing her to look up at him, “have you missed me as much as I have missed you?”
“Desperately. I have longed for you desperately,” she admitted without her usual inhibitions.
Eirik’s heart expanded in his chest almost to bursting, and his staff began to harden against her. He pressed himself against her belly, to show her how desperately he “longed” for her, as well.
“No doubt there were many beautiful women at Edred’s court,” she said, tracing his jaw lovingly with a forefinger, then following its path with small kisses.
“No doubt,” he said rawly. His blood thickened and his skin grew hot. As his loins grew heavy with want, he had to force himself not to throw his wife to their bed with undue haste.
She arched her hips upward against him, and Eirik gasped. He saw that she wanted him as fiercely as he wanted her.
“And no doubt those women were… available to you.”
Does she really think I noticed other women after having her? “No doubt.” To his pleasure, he saw her eyes flash with anger.
“And were they sweet and biddable?”
Is that my shrewish Eadyth looking vulnerable and insecure? “No doubt,” he said silkily, smiling against her lips.