“The marriage has not been consummated, Eirik.”
“Hah! I think I know that better than you, brother. Stop your bloody meddling.”
Tykir had shrugged. “Methought you had motives for marrying the old crone.” He had grinned oddly, as if he enjoyed prodding his brother about Eadyth’s age. “Did you have any luck at Winchester with the king and his Witan regarding Steven’s petition?”
“Somewhat. Edmund promises his support, and I filed a formal protest afore the Witan, claiming my own paternity of John.” He shrugged, adding, “You know that the Witan, in the end, will act as the political winds blow. But, most important, I spoke ofttimes and in public of my loving wife and son at Ravenshire. Hopefully, my words will anger Steven to careless action, and we can finally put an end to his perfidy.”
“You should return to Ravenshire then, Eirik. Wouldst you jeopardize your trap for Steven by dallying here in Jorvik? Afore the vows have even been formalized with the bedding?”
Eirik had narrowed his eyes suspiciously, studying his brother’s concerned face. “I am more interested in your motives for pushing me toward my shrewish wife. Do you know something I do not?”
“Me?” Tykir had asked, slapping a palm to his chest in affront. ” ‘Tis just that I softened the wench up for you with your bride gift. Oiled the way for your entry, so to speak. I would not want my brotherly efforts to go in vain.”
Eirik shook his head in remembrance of his sly brother’s suddenly serious parting admonition: “Remember my words, brother, when the time is right. Beauty is in the heart, not the eyes.”
Easy for him to say, Eirik thought, as he waved to Wilfrid and his other retainers atop the battlements. Tykir did not have to bed the scrawny crone.
He furrowed his forehead with annoyance as he remembered Eadyth’s parting insult about pigs grunting and his threat to make her pay on his return.
Actually, other thoughts had been niggling at Eirik’s mind since his departure. Eirik had been thinking much of late about that kiss he and Eadyth had shared in his bedchamber, and he wondered if the coupling might not be so abhorrent.
In truth, if Eadyth could only stop her cackling words, and the dark of his bedchamber could dim her gray hair and wrinkles, he might enjoy taming her feisty spirit amongst the bed linens. What was it Selik always said about all cats in the dark? With a laugh, he looked up at the battlements, searching for the object of his mirth.
Then he frowned.
Girta stood there, along with Larise and John, who were waving energetically. But no Eadyth. Where was his wife?
Perchance the bothersome wench hoped to punish him. He had infuriated her on his departure with his punishing kiss in front of all his retainers and guests. She no doubt hoped to retaliate. Well, he had had more than enough of her stubborn pride. His lips thinned with irritation. He would put an end to her defiant nature this night when she was flat on her back with her bony legs spread wide.
“Where is my wife?” he demanded of Wilfrid the minute he alighted from his horse in the courtyard, failing to stifle a groan of pain at his aching muscles. “Have her order me a hot bath immediately.”
Wilfrid’s face turned bright red. “Um… ah…”
“What?”
“She is gone.”
“Gone? Where?”
“Back to Hawks’ Lair.”
“You cannot be serious,” Eirik said incredulously, then stiffened with alarm. His lackwit wife endangered herself with her independent ways. “I ordered her not to leave the keep. And I told you to make sure she and the children were guarded every moment.”
“The children have worn out a dozen guards whilst you have been gone,” Wilfrid answered defensively; then he confessed shamefacedly, “but your lady left whilst everyone slept—four nights ago.”
“And have we no guards?”
“Yea, but they thought she had permission to leave.”
“Who rode with her?” Eirik asked stonily, his fists clenched angrily at his sides. By all the saints! He would strangle the wench for disobeying him. Best she hide her scrawny self for a good long time ’til his boiling temper cooled down.