Now, that danger Eadyth could understand.
The snorting of horses precluded further conversation as King Edmund’s men moved their destriers closer to Eirik, impatient to be gone. Hastily, Eirik concluded, “Need I remind you to stay within the keep to avoid further contact with Gravely?”
She shook her head, and Eirik gave her several more last-minute instructions. When he completed his directions and appeared about to lean down to kiss her in farewell, Eadyth hissed in a low undertone, “Do not dare think of embracing me in public. I will not abide it.”
Truth be told, Eadyth did not want a repeat of the mind-shattering kiss that had taken place in his bedchamber a short time before. She needed time to get her confused emotions under firm control.
But her husband obviously did not care for commands from a new wife. He tilted his head and challenged, “Do you say me nay already, wife? I think not.”
Before she had a chance to blink, he lifted her by the shoulders, set her on his lap atop the horse and kissed her deeply, much more intimately than he had, no doubt, originally intended before her reckless defiance.
It was not a pleasant kiss, like the earlier one. His chain mail dug into her chest. His gauntleted hands bruised the sensitive skin of her shoulders. And his lips pressed hard and brutal against her teeth, drawing blood.
Eirik obviously meant the kiss to show his retainers and honored guests that he was lord and master. And to teach her not to challenge him again—in public or private.
Eadyth seethed.
When he set her down on the ground as quickly as he had picked her up, Eadyth rubbed the back of her hand angrily across her mouth.
“Have you naught to say, wife?”
“When a pig grunts, do you feel the need to oink?”
Eirik snapped his noseguard down with a resounding click, hiding half his face, but not before she saw a matching fury in his eyes.
“You will regret those hasty words, my lady. ‘Twill be my pleasure when I return to teach you respect for your wedded husband.”
Without another word, he rode off with the king’s men and his small group of retainers.
The contest of wills had begun.
Chapter Seven
To her regret, Tykir prepared to leave the next day. Eadyth did not know how she would have survived the remainder of the wedding feast if it had not been for Tykir’s help. Once Eirik had gone, most of the hostile guests had snubbed Eadyth openly, but not when Tykir had stood, glaring, at her side. Some had gone to bedchambers which had been prepared for them earlier, others had departed hastily, no doubt brewing their deceitful plots.
Eirik’s behavior at their leave-taking still infuriated Eadyth, but her anger was tempered a bit when Tykir leaned down from his horse and handed her a linen-wrapped parcel.
“That had best not be the bloody shoe Eirik keeps trying to foist on me,” she remarked shrewishly.
Tykir grinned. “Nay, my brother is saving that for another occasion. Eirik intended to give you this morgen-gifu this morn, after your wedding night… in appreciation of your pleasing him mightily in the bed sport, I wager.” He moved his eyebrows comically. “But methinks you need softening up now, afore his return, lest there be no coupling at all.” Eadyth snorted with disgust at his continual reference to the marriage bed, but then she gasped with delight when she opened the package and saw the priceless beekeeping book Eirik had mentioned earlier. He must have sent to King Edmund for it. She realized, too, that the king must truly regard her husband as a friend to part with such a precious book from the renowned collection bequeathed him by his half-brother Athelstan. No wonder he called upon Eirik in his time of need.
She raised tear-filled eyes to his brother and said in a choked voice, “He could not have chosen better. In truth, I cannot remember anyone ever taking such care to choose a gift for me.”
“Remember that, my sister, afore you snap his head off on his return,” he advised, with a wink.