Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 03]

Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 03] by The Tarnished Lady Page A

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him well.”
    “And what of your new wife?” Tykir asked with casualness, deliberately changing the subject as an odd little smile twitched at his lips. “Does her age not bother you? Or her, well, less than comely attributes?”
    Eirik was wary. He knew his brother too well, and the secretive gleam in his sparkling eyes bespoke mischief.
    “Her age and physical appearance do not bother me overmuch. You know I married a young, beautiful maid of pure reputation once, and soon discovered utter misery. This time I made a choice based on logic.” He shrugged. “Even so, ’tis sore hard to accustom myself to the unpleasantness ofEadyth’s nature. Does she have to scowl constantly? And her voice! Its shrillness makes my hair stand on end.”
    Tykir choked on the mead he had been drinking, and Eirik tilted his head in suspicion once again. Tykir was hiding something. What could it be? Did it involve Eadyth and that laughing fit Tykir had just engaged in?
    Hesitantly, he went on, “I find myself touched that she has taken some care with her appearance today. Hell’s Flames! You should have seen her three sennights ago. Ugly as a mud hen and twice as mean.”
    “And now?” Tykir raised an eyebrow with exaggerated interest.
    “Now, leastways, her silk gown is obviously newly made, and the odd head-rail adds a girlish attraction to the garment, especially when she pulls it over her lower face. Dost think she is basically shy under her arrogant exterior?”
    Tykir’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Hah! More like an houri in an eastern harem I once visited.”
    Eirik smiled at that unlikely comparison and shook his head woefully. “Eadyth, a harem slave? Hardly. She would, no doubt, cause a revolt within a week.”
    “Eirik, do not be too harsh in judging your new wife,” Tykir advised in a suddenly serious tone. “Despite her facade of strength and self-sufficiency, I sense a deep hurt inside.”
    “You underestimate my insight, brother. The vulnerability that Eadyth fails to hide on the odd occasion touches me, too. Didst see her face earlier when I introduced her to Earl Orm and his daughter Aldgyth? They treated her with bare civility.”
    “Yea, if you had not been standing at Eadyth’s side, I warrant Orm and his bloody daughter would have snubbed her, but, hypocrites that they are, they put on false smiles.”
    Eirik shrugged. “They need my support in their political intrigues. I know that well. They will not insult her outright. And Archbishop Wulfstan, that wily priest, look how he works his way amongst the crowd below in his plot to overturn Saxon rule in Northumbria.”
    “Yea, he performed the wedding ceremony, but even he could barely hide his disapproval of the match and Eadyth’s scandalous past. Shall I chop off his head for you?”
    Eirik grinned at his brother. “Nay, you bloodthirsty fool, though I, too, feel the urge to protect her. This wedding feast has given me a tiny glimpse of what Eadyth’s life must have been these past eight years—snickers, judging stares, shunning.”
    “And you know all too well how cruel the high-blown Saxon nobility can be, my brother. How you stood it so long I will never know.”
    Eirik nodded at the unwelcome memories Tykir’s words brought forth. “I would be a fool not to be drawn by Eadyth’s strength of character in withstanding their ill treatment. I can only wonder what pain my wife has suffered that she holds inside still.”
    “Mayhap her only armor is the brittle shell she draws around her soft inner core?”
    Eirik had not thought of that before, but decided Tykir was probably right.
    “And do you wish to discover that inner Eadyth?” Tykir asked with a jiggle of his eyebrows.
    Eirik laughed. “Oh, I will discover Eadyth’s ‘inner’ secrets this night. You can be sure of that. But, if you speak of that part of herself she attempts to hide, know this: a man protects those under his shield, and I may not be able to erase past mistakes,

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