“So you think me amusing, do you?” Eirik said, advancing closer. “Have you any idea what your unwelcome bath and your blubbering have done to your appearance?”
Before she could protest, Eirik turned her toward the polished metal and forced her to look at herself.
“Oh, my.”
“Oh, my, indeed.”
“I guess Bertha was right. We look quite the pair.”
Eadyth suddenly seemed to realize that she had dropped her anger toward Eirik too easily by laughing with him companionably. Forcing a scowl onto her mirthful face, she snorted with self-disgust and started to walk toward the door. Eirik figured he had best make his apologies quickly before she turned shrewish again.
“Come,” he said, leading her to the chair and pushing her gently to sit. He pulled another chair closer so they sat facing each other, knee to knee. “I would have my say now.”
Eadyth made as if to rise, but he halted her by shaking his head. “Nay, you will sit and listen. ‘Twill not be easy for me to tell you of the reasons for my berserk behavior, but you deserve the explanation. It all revolves around that bloody demon, Steven of Gravely.”
Eadyth’s head shot up with interest, and she sat back, steepling her fingers in front of her tightly pressed lips. Studying him warily, she finally said, “I am listening.”
Eadyth watched her husband as he shifted uncomfortably in the chair facing her. A soft white shert covered his taut body down to the wrists, and faded brown braies hugged his thick thigh and calf muscles down to the ankles, but Eadyth knew from his swollen face and the reddening bite wounds evident in the open neckline that he suffered terribly with the urge to scratch.
Good, she thought, remembering the vulgar thing he had done to her.
Until she had met Steven, she had been modest in her person, never allowing any man to touch her, not even for a chaste kiss. It had taken Steven months of seductive wooing to convince her of his love, and only then had she allowed that most intimate of all acts.
Since Steven’s betrayal, she had learned her lesson well and kept all men beyond touching distance of her body. It had not always been an easy task once word of her child leaked out, for she had been deemed tarnished goods. In defense, she had avoided the royal court and any public places where she might have been vulnerable to men’s advances, and she had made a concerted effort to downplay her attractiveness.
Mayhap that was why Eirik’s vulgar action devastated her so. Like all the other men, he placed no value on her dignity. And, for some reason, his condemnation of her as an adulteress hurt deeply. Blessed Lord, she could not remember the last time she had allowed herself the indulgence of a good sob. Probably not since Steven’s betrayal.
Eirik shifted noisily in his chair, breaking her reverie. “I first met Steven when I went to King Athelstan’s court as a boy for fostering.”
Despite her angry emotions, Eadyth could not curb her curiosity. “Was it not odd for a Viking child to foster at a Saxon court?”
“Nay, ’twas not unusual. My cousin Haakon, as pure a Viking as there ever was long afore he became high-king of all Norway, fostered there with me. Not to mention an assortment of scholars and refugees from royal courts around the world.
“And I told you afore I am only half Viking.” Eirik grinned in a ridiculous parody of a smile, considering the puffiness of his face. His lips tilted up only on one side. And, yea, Eadyth did remember all too well that earlier conversation when he had teased her, asking if she would like to see his Viking half. She curled her lips with distaste and made a clucking sound of disgust.
“Did your father force you to foster there?” she asked, choosing to ignore his insinuation about Viking parts.
“On the contrary, I coaxed my father into allowing me to be a Saxon fosterling.”
“But why?”
He shrugged, scratching distractedly at his arms, then the back of his neck. Eadyth wanted to remind him that the onion juice would alleviate his discomfort but knew somehow that he would accept no help from her.