“Fifty?” she squeaked out, clearly horrified at such a repulsive prospect.
Eirik slanted a look of irritation her way when her body shuddered involuntarily with revulsion.
“Well, I am sure you are just as repulsed at the prospect of bedding an aged woman as I am by the prospect of bedding yo… any man.”
“If the bedchamber is dark enough, I think I will be able to perform,” Eirik commented dryly. “I can pretend the wrinkles on your face are smile lines. And I could fantasize that the legs wrapped ’round my waist are firm and well-curved, not bony and knob-kneed.”
Eadyth gasped at his insulting, intimate words, but he just went on as if he did not sense her embarrassment. “Mayhap you could even pretend an enthusiasm for the bedding if my manhood needs any prodding to action. Do you think you could moan passionately on the odd occasion?”
Eadyth’s mouth dropped open in amazement at his vulgarity. “Oh, you truly are a loathsome lout.”
“Now, now, Eadyth. No need for shyness betwixt husband and wife. If you do not know how to make passionate love sounds, I can teach you.” Then, in a falsely feminine voice, he moaned, “Oh, oh, yes, ah, that feels so-o-o good.”
Eadyth stood indignantly, casting a look of horror at Wilhid who chortled with laughter. Eirik had forgotten his seneschal was still there, hearing all his provoking words. He winked conspiratorially at his friend.
“How dare you speak thus to me?”
“Sit down, Eadyth,” Eirik said, elbowing Wilfrid to behave himself. “I was merely making a jest.”
“I am not laughing.”
“Mayhap you should. It might loosen your stiff countenance. Most times you look like you have a pike up your arse.
Wilfrid chortled gleefully, but flame-hot anger turned Eadyth’s face blood red, even through the ashes. She looked as if she would love to throttle him with her bare hands.
“You filthy-mouthed, wicked man!”
Eirik shrugged. “And you are a carping crone, my lady wife. Mayhap we make a good pair.”
“Bloody beast!”
“Dour dowd!”
“Lecherous lackwit!”
“Shrill shrew!”
“Odious oaf!”
“Wench!”
“Wretch!”
Eirik smiled widely, enjoying their exchange and her anger to the fullest. He grabbed her arm, pulling her forcibly back to her seat.
Visibly fighting to control her roiling temper, Eadyth finally managed to speak in a level tone of voice, “I do not deserve to be treated in such a crude manner.”
“Do you not? Ah, well, then I must be sorry, I suppose.” He knew he did not look one bit apologetic. Eadyth turned to Wilfrid, glaring her distaste at his continuing mirth. Wilfrid had-the grace to duck his head sheepishly.
“Here, wife. Methinks you could use a cup of your own mead.”
Eirik reached in front of her for the tankard on her other side, accidentally brushing her left breast with his hand in the process. His eyes shot wide in response to the sensuous feeling it invoked. Testing, he surreptitiously repeated the stroke when bringing the tankard back in front of him.
He felt Eadyth’s nipple peak against the hairs of his forearm, and a red-hot spear of sensation shot to his fingertips, which yearned to examine the shape and texture of her firm breasts. He licked his suddenly dry lips and tried to ignore the hardening evidence of his arousal beneath the constraint of his tight braies.
And he noted that Eadyth’s body reacted involuntarily to his touch, as well, in a way she obviously could not comprehend. She stared at him in confusion before crossing her arms across her nipples, which were clearly outlined against the thin fabric of her gunna.
Despite Eirik’s deplorable behavior, despite her aversion to the act men and women performed together, did her body ache for his caress? Was her blood thickening? Did her limbs grow heavy with longing?
“You are a perverted man,” Eadyth exclaimed, jarring him from his sensuous reverie. “Do not mistake me for some lackwit maid who will spread her thighs for a mere whiff of your man scent.”
“Ma… man scent?” Eirik sputtered out.
“Do not think you can bewitch me with your unholy ways.”
” ‘Tis naught unholy about the coupling betwixt a husband and wife.”