“You really should accustom yourself to my touching, Eadyth,” he remarked offhandedly as he tried to entwine his fingers with hers.
She swatted his hand away. “Why?”
“Because I intend to do a goodly amount.”
She frowned, not understanding his words at first. When she realized that he meant he would be touching her excessively, a hot flush worked itself up from her suddenly full breasts to her undoubtedly red face. “You… you… libertine,” she sputtered, trying to find the words to tell him of her lack of appreciation for his playful ways. He surely did not mean them. He only goaded her to raise her ire. At least, that’s what she thought until she noticed his eyes gazing appreciatively at her chest.
She looked down and almost groaned aloud. Her nipples had grown hard. Oh, Lord. “Are you perchance a pervert?”
Eirik laughed, and the tiny crinkles around his eyes deepened in a most delightful way. He had slicked his thick, black hair off his face, but already the sun was drying it and the vast amount of skin revealed by his short-sleeved, open-necked tunic. His freshly scrubbed, sun-bronzed skin shone with good health, vitality and raw maleness. Really, her husband was sinfully attractive. And a danger to her hard-won independence.
“Nay, Eadyth, I am not a pervert.”
“Then why do you talk so much of touching and fornication?”
“Mayhap because it has been so long since I have done either.”
That surprised her. She wanted to ask how long, having assumed he had visited his mistress between the time of their betrothal and his return to Ravenshire several days ago, but she could not. Asking would indicate she cared. And she did not care for him, or any man. She could not. Oh, Lord.
“Three months,” he said, as if answering her silent question.
Her eyes widened, and, against her wishes, a little flutter of gladness rippled through her. Fighting to regain her cool demeanor, she commented in as uninterested a voice as she could manage, “Well, I suppose that is a long time for a man, but surely you place far too much significance on the coupling betwixt a man and woman.”
“A husband and a wife,” he corrected her with a slight grin.
She waved a hand dismissively. “Man, woman. Husband, wife. ‘Tis just an overvalued physical act in the end. Like eating. Or yawning. Of too short a duration to merit such importance. Oh, I warrant it is pleasurable for a man. At least, they boast of it often enough, but I misdoubt it is more than a nuisance for very many women.”
Eirik gave her a sidelong look of amazement and shook his head slowly from side to side. “Yawning? Ah, Eadyth, ’twill be a joy to teach you otherwise.”
“I want none of your sinful lessons.”
“There is naught sinful about good lovemaking betwixt a husband and wife.”
“Good. Bad. Little difference it makes to me.”
“It will.”
“Hah!”
Eirik reached forward and took a long lock of her curly hair in his fingers. Sensuously, he rubbed it ‘between his thumb and forefinger, then, holding her eyes, he lifted the strand to his lips. “I suspect, my prim and proper lady, that you harbor a misconception about lovemaking. If you had your way, I wager, Would be quick and quiet, clean and cool. You would manage it very efficiently, like your household.”
She lifted her chin, stubbornly refusing to rise to his bait this time.
He chuckled softly and continued, “Well, let me tell you, dearling, good lovesport is long… and wet… and messy… and noisy… and very, very hot.”
Hot? Wet? Oh, Lord. Eadyth could not stop her mouth from opening with incredulity. “See what I mean?” she scoffed finally. “You are constantly taunting me. All I wanted was a husband to protect my son, a legal arrangement.” She closed her eyes with exasperation and gritted her teeth.
“And I want more.”
Eirik’s softly spoken words startled Eadyth, and she opened her eyes to meet the hungry fire of his burning scrutiny. Hungry? For what? Oh, nay, it cannot be… oh, surely not for me.
She stumbled, and Eirik grasped her by the waist to help her stay aright. The mere graze of his hands against her silk-clad skin was enough to set her heart thumping and blood pounding to all her extremities. And, Sweet Mary, his touch felt so uncommonly wonderful, she wanted to catch the moment and hold it in her palm forever.