Before she had a chance to mask her dismay, Tykir broke out in a fit of laughter. Eirik and Earl Orm turned their way, but Tykir just waved their curious stares aside, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.
Eadyth hissed under her breath, “Halt, at once. ‘Tis not as you think, you bloody fool.”
“Oh, I beg to differ, my lady,” he hooted gleefully. ” ‘Tis exactly as I think. You are playing a grand jest on my brother.”
“Nay.”
“Yea.”
“My hair is gray.”
” ‘Tis silver blonde under all that grease, I warrant.”
“My shoulders are stooped.”
“Hah! Your breasts are magnificent.”
Eadyth cringed with dismay at his impudent words. “I have age spots all over my body,” she said lamely, her spirits sinking desperately.
“If ’tis an age spot that adorns your upper lip, I warrant my brother will pay homage to it with his tongue afore this night ends, or he is not the man I know him to be.”
Eadyth groaned aloud. “My skin is wrinkled,” she protested, trying to maintain the scowl she had kept on her face the entire day. In truth, her face ached from the strain of her forced efforts.
Tykir’s lips tilted in a disbelieving smile.
Her shoulders slumped finally in defeat as she realized she was fighting a lost battle with Tykir. He knew the truth.
“Does anyone else suspect?”
Tykir shook his head slowly from side to side.
“What did I do wrong?”
“You did naught. But you apparently forgot that we met many years ago at Hawks’ Lair when I was but a child, accompanying my grandfather Dar. I knew afore I came today that you are younger than me, and I have seen only twenty-nine winters.
Eadyth exhaled on a deep sigh.
“Just how old dost my brother think you are?”
Eadyth waved a hand airily in resignation. “Forty or thereabouts, I presume,” she admitted with disgust.
“Forty!” Tykir choked out. “Forty! Surely, he is not that dull-headed.”
“He is not a lackwit. ‘Tis just that I worked hard to portray that image, and we were only together a few times. Circumstances helped my cause.”
“But why?”
“Oh, I do not know. I never planned to deceive him, but when I realized on our first meeting that he thought me older… well, it seemed to be a good way of forestalling his…”
Tykir arched a brow questioningly.
Eadyth shifted uncomfortably, then blurted out, “. . . of forestalling his lustful gropings.”
Laughing, Tykir remarked, “Yea, my brother’s ‘gropings’ do tend to be lustful on occasion.”
“Oh, it has naught to do with Eirik. ‘Tis any man. I try my best not to attract men. Any man.”
Tykir seemed about to say more on the subject, then stopped himself. “How long do you think you can continue this ruse?”
“I do not know,” Eadyth cried despairingly. “It has gone too far.”
Tykir shook his head with concern. “My brother is slow to anger, but a lion when provoked. And, I warn you, sister, Eirik is very sensitive about his poor sight. You play a foolish game.”
Eadyth felt a weight on her right arm and turned to see Eirik’s hand laid possessively on her sleeve. She started and forced herself not to pull away in distaste.
“My lady, share your pleasantries with me,” Eirik demanded huskily. “I would know what tale prompts Tykir’s gales of laughter.”
Eadyth shot a pleading look at Tykir, who hesitated, then nodded at her unspoken plea. He told his brother, ” ‘Tis our secret, brother—mine and Eadyth’s—one I expect to laugh about with you in years to come. But not now. Nay, not quite yet.”
Eadyth breathed a deep sigh of relief. She was safe. For now.
But then Tykir added mischievously, “I know a skald in Dublin with a talent for putting words to true events. Methinks I have the bones of a saga to carry to him next trip.”
Eirik raised an eyebrow at his brother’s apparent deviltry. “Wouldst I like the saga?”
“Oh, undoubtedly.”
Eadyth cringed with foreboding.
“And Eadyth?” he asked suspiciously. “Will she enjoy the tale, as well?”
“My brother,” Tykir said, laughing as he patted Eirik on the back, “methinks she will relish it best of all.”