The edges of Eirik’s firm lips tilted slightly in a knowing smile, and Eadyth’s mouth snapped shut. She could have kicked herself at her betraying perusal. Willing her rapid pulse back to normal, she grumbled, “Must you flaunt your body so? You may think you can charm the very snout off a pig, but I am not one of your lackwit mistresses to swoon at your feet.”
Eirik just grinned infuriatingly. “Methought we were speaking of conditions here. Betrothal conditions.” He looked down at his thighs, then back at her, goading her silently to react to his taunt.
Eadyth cleared her throat irritably and pointed to the words he had scrawled at the bottom of her document. “Yea, I wouldst speak of your conditions. Firstly, I prefer to live at Hawks’ Lair. I see no reason to move myself and John here to Ravenshire.”
Eirik arched an eyebrow in question. “Have you no seneschal to serve in your absence?”
“Yea, I do. Gerald of Brimley, but—”
“Is he trustworthy?”
“Yea, but he only serves in my stead. I am needed, if for no other reason than to oversee my beekeeping.”
“Move the bloody bees here.”
Eadyth smiled condescendingly at his ignorance. “Bees are not like people. They do not just pick up their belongings and move from keep to keep.”
Eirik stared at her intently, and Eadyth squirmed under his scrutiny. She wished he would stop stroking the silken hairs of his mustache. It was disconcerting.
“Then leave the bees there. But you, my lady,” he concluded flatly, pointing a finger in her face, “will live here with your son or there will be no marriage.”
“Why would you care where I live? ‘Tis no love match atween us.”
“For certain,” he said drolly, casting a look of amused disdain her way.
Lord, she would like to smack the silly smirk off his disgustingly handsome face. “Methought you would value the freedom of my absence from Ravenshire.”
“What makes you think I would be less free with you here?”
Eadyth stiffened with indignation and pulled her head-rail forward to hide her emotion. Then she asserted, jutting her chin out proudly, “I could not abide having your lemans in the same keep as I.”
Eirik’s translucent eyes widened with surprise. Then he smiled with irritating mockery.
“My lady, you offend me. I have told you afore, and will not repeat it again. I am an honorable man. I would not disgrace a wife so.”
Casting a sidelong glance of skepticism at him, she asked, “Are you saying you would never take a mistress?”
She delighted in the flush that swept across his face and the way he squirmed in his seat. He refused to answer, just watched her closely with arms folded across his massive chest, stroking his infernal mustache the whole time.
“I do not mean to make you uncomfortable, Eirik. I have not asked you to give up your women.”
“Women! Oh, Eadyth, you do credit me with more endowments—and endurance—than I truly have,” Eirik remarked, shaking his head incredulously. “Where do you get these ideas of the many women I have?”
” ‘Tis said you fornicate like a rutting stag.” Oh, sweet mother, did I really say that?
Eirik inhaled sharply at the words she had blurted out without thinking, and his jaw tensed with outrage.
“You heard such said of me?”
“Well, not quite those exact words.”
“Then be more specific,” he demanded. “Who would insult me so? ‘Twas Steven of Gravely, I warrant, the damned rumormonger.”
“Nay, ’twas not Steven,” she informed him, wishing once again that she could learn to curb her foolish tongue. Hastily, she added, “Actually, I think the words I heard in the marketplace were more like, ‘The Raven cannot pass a pretty maid without sampling her honey, and the women buzz with satisfaction at his pricking.’ ”
She shrugged her shoulders dismissively.
Eirik’s eyes almost popped from his head and his mouth went slack-jawed at her frank words. Then he exploded with laughter.
“Oh, Eadyth! The things you do say!” he finally choked out. “Ne’er have I met a woman with your blunt tongue. ‘Tis too bad you… ah, well, a man cannot have everything.”