“Blue eyes! Black hair!” Eirik sputtered. “Have a caution, wench, you overstep yourself. And you waste my time with foolish talk of physical attributes. I do not wish to wed, especially not to a coarse-tongued, waspish harpy. And that is my final word on the subject.” He stood as if their meeting was at an end.
Eadyth’s hopes withered under his scornful words, and a rush of alarm swept over her. Once again, she had let her repugnance for a forced marriage overshadow her reason.
“Here,” she said quickly, shoving a document into his hands. “Mayhap you should consider what you so blithely toss aside.”
Eirik stared at her in stony silence, but finally he looked at the document, holding it at arm’s length. He scanned the words and figures briefly, then plopped back down into his chair, exhaling with a loud breath of impatience.
“What in the name of St. Cuthbert is this?”
Eadyth thought the document was self-explanatory since the words “Betrothal Agreement” were written clearly across the top in her own neat script. Mayhap he could not read. ” ‘Tis the dower I offer if you will agree to the marriage,” she explained proudly with chin held high.
Eirik gazed at her incredulously for a long moment before turning back to the document, reading aloud, “Five hundred mancuses of gold; two hundred hides of land adjoining Ravenshire to the north; twenty ells of fine baudekin silk from Baghdad; three cows; twelve oxen; fifteen thralls, including a stone worker and a blacksmith; and fifty queen bees, along with an estimated hundred thousand worker and ten thousand drone bees.” He looked at her questioningly, a mocking grin twitching at his lips. “Bees? What would I want with bees?”
” ‘Tis how I have made my fortune, my lord. Do not be so quick to mock what you do not understand.”
He put the document on the table, then steepled his fingers in front of his mouth as he leaned back in his chair and studied her closely. Finally, he spoke, choosing his words carefully. ” ‘Tis impressive, indeed—the dower you offer. And surprising. I had not thought Hawks’ Lair to be such a prosperous keep.”
He smiled then. It was a very nice smile, she conceded to herself. And Eadyth noticed how his very expressive eyes twinkled with merriment. Truly, she could understand why women melted at his feet if he turned this lethal charm in their direction.
“Does the king know of your wealth? Surely, his council would be interested in a higher levy for your riches.”
Eadyth bristled at his backhanded compliment. “Hawks’ Lair is a small keep, but I use every portion of it efficiently. Any wealth I have garnered, however, comes from my bee-keeping enterprise. The last few years have been especially profitable as my reputation for fine mead and honey and bees-wax candles has grown. My timekeeping candles earn a particularly handsome profit.”
“You engage in trade yourself?”
“Yea, that I do. I have an agent in Jorvik, but ’tis always wise to keep a check on those who handle your affairs.”
Eirik chuckled and shook his head from side to side in disbelief.
Eadyth bristled. “You find humor in wise business.”
“Nay, I find humor in you, my lady, and your many contradictions.”
“How so?”
“You come barging into my keep, uninvited, bristling like a hedgehog. You insult my dog, my ale, my person and my integrity, and yet you ask for my hand in marriage. You are highborn, and yet you dirty your hands in trade. And…” He hesitated, seeming to think he had mayhap gone too far.
“And what? Do not stop now. Let us be perfectly honest with each other.”
“Well, I have oft heard you referred to as ‘The Silver Jewel of Northumbria’ because of your renowned beauty, but I see it not.”
Eadyth cringed under his harsh but honest appraisal. In truth, she did all in her power to hide whatever beauty she still had. It should not matter that he found her less than comely, but somehow it did. It was just a remnant of her old feminine vanity, she supposed. She squared her shoulders and asked, “Is there more?”