She remained silent at his back as she held clumps of his hair together and clipped the ends off with the shears.
“Eadyth, do you never laugh?”
“Yea, I do, when I hear something laugh-provoking. Mostly, though, the things you consider amusing are just vulgar jests at my expense.”
Well, that was mostly true, he supposed. “What would make you laugh?”
“You tripping over that appendage betwixt your legs that you prize so highly,” she retorted quickly. He could feel the immediate regret for her hasty words in her fingertips which stilled in their work.
Eirik chuckled. “You overestimate my powers of… enlargement,” he replied quickly, finding that he liked this lighter, less prim side of his wife.
Wife!
Eirik recalled his earlier thoughts about Eadyth and his yearning for consummation of their marriage vows. And the reason why he hesitated to do that which his body ached for—Steven of Gravely.
Mayhap he should just toss her on the bed right now and be done with all the games. A day in bed with a willing woman was a damned good idea. He looked over his shoulder to find Eadyth scowling at his last words of humor.
Maybe not, he decided wisely.
Finished with the cutting, Eadyth ran a comb through his hair to check the evenness of her efforts. ” ‘Tis good enough,” she declared, putting her implements aside, and tossing his hair clippings on the pile of damp rushes to be removed.
She stood in the center of the room, as if pondering some weighty subject.
“Eirik, I have wanted to discuss something important with you for a long time,” she said hesitantly.
He sat down and motioned her to the chair beside him.
“I am not proud of what I have done, but I would have you know why ’twas necessary to my way of thinking.”
Eirik’s body became alert, knowing she planned to confess her masquerade. Now that he was aware of her ruse, Eirik saw clearly that Eadyth was an uncommonly handsome woman. What he had previously considered wrinkles were nothing more than temporary scowl lines. And that mouth of hers with its disarming mole, well, he looked forward to exploring it and many other parts of her body she had kept well hidden.
But did he want her to confess before Sigurd returned with his report? One part of him needed to have the confession over with so that he could take her to bed and work out this fever of wanting in his blood. It was the part below the waist, for a certainty. The other, more logical part warned that he risked planting his seed in yet another woman who might be conspiring with Steven for his demise. No, he must wait a few more days until Sigurd’s return.
Eirik tried to think of a way to forestall her confession. His senses came to full alert on one blossoming, tantalizing idea.
“Eadyth, tell me more about those timekeeping candles of yours?”
“Huh?”
“You told me you specialize in timekeeping candles. What are they? Did you invent them yourself?”
“Nay, King Alfred designed them first, many years ago. But I have experimented and refined mine so they are near perfect.”
“Would they dare be any less?”
“Do you want to know, or just make sarcastic remarks?”
“I really want to know.”
Eadyth looked at him warily but then explained, “The good Alfred devised candles of seventy-two pennyweights of wax that would burn for four hours, thus six candles per day in succession to mark the time. I developed one extra-large candle, with hour markings, that would burn for twenty-four hours, thus—”
“Thus eliminating the need for someone to remember to light the subsequent candles,” he finished for her, impressed, despite himself, with her ingenuity. “They must needs be huge.”
“Exactly. And very expensive, but still people buy as many as I can make.” She studied him quizzically for several moments before asking, “Why did you want to know about my candles?”
So, she does not accept my sudden interest in her wonderful talents. Clever lady! “You do not want to know.”
“Yea, I do.”
“Well, if you insist.” Before I am done with you, you will learn never to lie to me again. You will regret your masquerade much more than you could possibly guess. “I was wondering—could you make me a five-hour candle?” he asked meekly.