THE TARNISHED LADY By Sandra Hill

At the rush of pleasure that must have shown on her face, Eirik threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, wife, will you really be so easy to please?”

“In truth, I am very easy to please. You could never give me more than you have this eve in claiming John as your son. And I am grateful.”

She saw that Eirik was watching her closely, squinting slightly in the dim light, but she did not cower this time, and continued, “I promise in return for your favor that I will be the best wife possible. I will make this keep into a home again. I will bring order to your staff. I will help you prosper with my beekeeping trade. I will care for your children as if they were my own. I will—”

Eirik covered her hand with his own much larger one, and Eadyth’s eyes grew wide with alarm. She darted a quick look around the hall, but no one noticed his intimate touch.

Well, it was probably the husbandly sort of gesture expected at a wedding feast. But, Sweet Mother, the feel of his battle-callused palm was not repulsive to Eadyth. Far from it. Instead, an odd racing stirred her blood and fluttered in her chest.

Was this how she had felt with Steven, in the beginning? She tried hard to recall. No, these feelings were too strong, too primordial. Nothing like the sweet yearnings of the heart she had experienced with the Lord of Gravely before discovering his real nature.

She tried to pull her hand away, but Eirik chuckled and held her fast, turning her hand so it was palm to palm with his, fingers entwined. Only his thumb drew back, drawing tiny circles of sweet, sweet pleasure on the tender scar at her wrist.

A small smile played at the edges of Eirik’s lips as he gazed at her, and the flutters in her chest increased and moved to the tips of her breasts. Involuntarily, she looked down, then quickly away. She knew he could not see the hardened peaks through the thick fabric of her gown, but, even so, her face warmed with an embarrassed blush.

Eadyth slanted a look his way, and her face burned even hotter. Eirik was grinning like a cat with a bowl of spilled milk. He knew exactly what effect he had on her, no doubt from long years of practice on dimwitted females. Like her.

“Argh!” Eadyth growled aloud and tried harder to pull from his grasp, but Eirik just laughed and pulled her even closer, tucking her arm at his side.

“Why do you try to deny your passionate nature, Eadyth?” Eirik asked in a husky whisper. “And do not speak to me of your age again as if it mattered in the bed sport. ‘Tis obvious to me that hot coals glow under your cool skin just waiting for the right tinder.”

“Tinder? Tinder? Best you keep your tinder in your braies, you lusty lout. And halt your wicked words. I have told you afore that I want none of your seductive words.”

“Why? Are you fearful of what you might feel?”

“Nay! I feel naught, and you are wrong to expect otherwise of me. Oh, Eirik, please, do not try to make this marriage into anything other than what it is—a contract.”

“And do you not think it would be wise to make the best of our… contract? Just a moment ago, you spoke of being the best wife possible. Did you mean in all ways except the true sense?”

Eadyth bristled. He was right. She had just promised to be the best wife possible, and now she argued with him again. Calming herself, she explained patiently, “I do not love you. You do not love me. We will never love each other.”

“Who spoke of love? I want naught of that brain-letting emotion. But the nights get cold in these parts and—”

“Oh, you are a brute to tease me so. Bring your leman here if you must, but leave me be.”

Eirik did not look pleased at her easy acquiescence to his mistress. Once again, she tried to pull from his hold, but to no avail. Instead, with his left hand, Eirik reached forward and touched the mole above her lip with the tip of his index finger. He smiled as if satisfied that the mark was still there. Then he traced the edges of her lips from one corner to the divot in the center where he stopped momentarily and sighed with pleasure, ever so softly, before moving his finger to the other corner and along the rim of the bottom lip.

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