Well, not quite, Eadyth amended quickly as Eirik turned. He had hidden another part of his body, as well. And, oh, Sweet Mother! It was a very nice part, indeed.
Eadyth put her hands to her hot cheeks and forced her eyes upward to meet Eirik’s knowing, wintry smile. His cool regard chilled her to the bone, bringing her jarringly back to the present dilemma—Eirik’s bee stings.
“Get out, Eadyth,” he said with deliberate care. “I will deal with you and your treachery later. Leave me now to my misery.”
“Eirik, I am truly sorry for what happened in the bailey. But ’tis not my fault. Bees sting when threatened, and—”
“Threatened? Best you have a caution, wife, and leave my presence afore I show you a real threat.”
“Why are you so angry with me? ‘Twas you who riled the bees. But that is the way of men, is it not? Always blaming women for their mistakes.”
“Your biggest mistake, my lady, was in thinking you could play me false and escape the consequences.” Nostrils flaring, Eirik moved toward her menacingly.
Baffled by his fierce fury, she backed up a few steps and protested, “You deliberately misunderstand me. Be reasonable. Leastwise, I need to tend to your… Oh, Sweet Mother of God…”
Eadyth’s words trailed off as she noticed the dozens of white bites, already turning red, on his face, neck, chest, back, stomach, legs—in truth, every part of his body. And worst of all, Eirik was vigorously clawing at his flesh with his fingernails wherever he could reach.
“Nay, you must stop scratching,” she ordered, slapping his hands away from his body. “You lackbrain, do you not know better than to rub a bee bite? You must remove the stinger first.”
Ignoring her words, Eirik moved closer to the window alcove so he could better see as he peered over his shoulder and tried to claw at the bites on his back.
Again, she shoved his hand aside and pulled out the small ivory-handled knife from the scabbard at her belt. “Here, let me help.”
Eirik eyed the sharp blade in her hand and laughed mirthlessly. “Your solicitude comes too late, my lady wife. I am not half-witted enough to let you near my body with a weapon.” With lightning swiftness, he grabbed the knife from her hand and laid it behind him on a table.
“How absurd! I just want to remove the stingers with the edge of the blade. When a bee bites, it leaves its stinger under the skin, then goes off to die, but—”
“Hah! Just as I thought! You are more concerned about your precious pests than my injuries.”
“Oh, ’tis unfair of you to speak thus. And bees are not pests. I merely wanted to explain that the stinger must be removed with care, as soon as possible, or its poison will be pumped into the wound causing swelling or even fever.”
“That would make you happy, would it not—you and your scheming lover?”
Eadyth stiffened at the barely bridled rage in his voice. “Lover? What lover?” Her brows drew together in confusion. But now was not the time for anger or explanations. Meeting his accusing eyes without flinching, she asked coolly, “Do you want my help or not?”
He glared at her for several long moments, then looked down at the angry welts already starting to form where he had rubbed. “No knife. Use your fingernails,” he demanded finally.
Eadyth glanced skeptically at her blunt nails, but moved toward him, shaking her head in exasperation. Did he truly think she would kill him? She was not that angry about the rude kiss on his leavetaking. But then her sensitivity to his obvious pain won out over her growing chagrin.
“Sit down,” she ordered, pointing to a low stool near the window. In order to see better, she removed her full-length beekeeping veil. She had neglected to put the usual ashes on her face this morn, thinking Eirik would not return to Ravenshire until the morrow. She hoped Eirik, with his watering eyes, was in too much misery right now to notice her appearance. In any case, it was a chance she had to take.