“Perchance I could be the answer to your prayers.”
Eirik smiled broadly at her poor choice of words, and Eadyth was dazzled, despite herself, by the charismatic pull of his good looks.
“My prayers? I think not, my lady.”
“What I meant,” Eadyth persisted, “was that if you were to agree to the marriage I could care for both your children.”
“With all due respect, methinks a wedding would be too high a price to pay for the mere care of two children.”
Mere care! Eadyth forced aside her repugnance and eyed his samite tunic, once a bright sapphire blue, now faded with age and wear, and the gold brocaded embroidery of his surcoat worn into a meaningless pattern. A fine dragon brooch of beaten gold with amber eyes adorned the shoulder of his mantle, but, in all, his attire spoke of poverty—that, and the crumbling walls of his castle and lack of servants to care for the filthy keep. Furthermore, she had noticed many empty cotter’s huts and long uncultivated fields as she approached his manor.
She decided to try a different approach.
“May I respectfully advise, my Lord Ravenshire, that the dower I offered you could be put to good use in getting your manor back in order,” she suggested, ignoring the look of surprise that swept his face. “I know much about these things, you see. If you had no interest in the running of your keep and wished to return to court… or… or wherever… I would be more than willing to manage your affairs. You would have coin enough to purchase new fabrics for fine garments and restock your larders and…” Her words trailed off as she realized Eirik glared at her with consternation.
“And what would I be doing whilst you do all this… managing? Sitting around watching my fingernails grow?”
Eadyth just stared at him, unprepared for such a snide response to her kindly offer.
“Lady, you overstep your bounds mightily. Have you so little regard for me that you think I cannot handle my own affairs? How would I pass my idle time? Swilling ale? Bedding every maid in sight?”
Her expression must have betrayed her thoughts that she had, indeed, expected just that, because Eirik let out a loud bellow which drew the attention of several knights below him in the hall. Through gritted teeth, he snarled contemptuously, “Wouldst you find a means to fill your own sheath on the wedding night, as well? For, surely, you have no need of a man.”
Crestfallen, Eadyth sighed with resignation. Obviously, he would not wed her now.
“I meant no disrespect, my lord. You are wrong, however, in saying I have no need of a man. I desperately need a husband. Oh, ’tis certain I want no man in my bed. In truth, if we were to wed, you could keep your mistresses for all I would care.”
“Just how many mistresses do you think I have?” Eirik asked with amusement, no longer angry.
Eadyth waved a hand in the air as if the number mattered not. “You have a reputation for having many women, and—”
“Having many women?” he choked out. “All together?”
“Do not be ridiculous,” Eadyth said, but then she felt her face heat at the image. Without thinking, she commented, “I had not realized it could be done with more than one woman at a time.”
Eirik hooted with laughter.
Eadyth wilted under his ridicule and tried to go on. “I know you have a mistress in Jorvik, and, if there are others, it matters not to me.”
He lifted a dark brow in surprise. “You know of Asa? Your spies have done your work well, my lady.”
Eadyth shrugged dismissively. ” ‘Tis of no importance. I see now that you will not wed me. ‘Twould seem I will have to begin my search anew to find another highborn man with black hair and blue eyes.”
“Truly, you intrigue me, my lady. Explain yourself, if you will. Why those requisites?”
Eadyth hesitated to discuss her son John with this man, but, her chances for wedding Eirik now being nonexistent, she thought he might be able to advise her.
“The boy’s father has had second thoughts after all these years of having disclaimed paternity. He petitions the Witan to gain custody of John for his own wicked purposes. I need a husband to protect me in my fight. And”—she hesitated, questioning how much information she could trust him with—”and it could not help but aid my cause if the man swore he was John’s father, especially if he has black hair and pale blue eyes, as my son does. As does his true father.”