Read Online Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 03] by The Tarnished Lady - Free Book Online Page B

fast, will you see if my beekeeping veil is in the pack attached to my horse’s saddle? I would check for wild bees in the fields beyond the orchard I saw this morn. Mayhap there are some new species I can breed with mine.”
    Girta nodded and raised an eyebrow questioningly, knowing full well that Eadyth often pursued her beekeeping jaunts when troubled.
    “Will there be a wedding?”
    “Yea, there will,” she said, looking down with wonder at the ring and at the thin wound on her wrist. “In three sennights.”
    “Will we stay here ’til then?” Girta’s brow furrowed as she scrutinized Eadyth with loving care.
    “Nay, we return on the morrow at first light and will come back the day of the wedding.” She sat down next to her old maid and confided, “Girta, there is one thing you should know. He thinks I am much older than I am, and quite…uncomely.”
    “Why would he think so?”
    “Well, he does not see perfectly, like my father. Remember?”
    Girta nodded.
    “And the hall is dark and smoky. And, uh, the grease in my hair apparently gives it a grayish hue. And my loose garb…well, all these things combined, I suppose, have given Eirik the impression I am old. And—”
    “How old?” Girta asked suspiciously.
    Eadyth shrugged. “Mayhap forty or so. Certainly past the childbearing years.”
    Girta’s mouth dropped open in surprise before she threw back her head and chortled gleefully. “Oh, Eadyth, child, you play with danger here.” Then she sniffed and leaned closer to her beloved charge. “Oh, Good Lord, Eadyth, the pig grease in your hair has gone rancid.”
    They both burst out laughing then, and Eadyth hugged her dear old nurse warmly in companionship. And perhaps desperation.
     
    Eirik stomped off the exercise field later that afternoon, prompted by the wild ranting of several servants who had come to him complaining about the ghost in the orchard come to haunt Ravenshire. Bloody Hell! It was all he needed—an aging wife, a crumbling keep, and now a ghost.
    He walked briskly through the fields beyond the kitchen garden, overgrown with gorse and bramble, past the spring-fed pond where he had swum as a child and now used for bathing, and through the long-neglected orchard of apple, pear, peach and plum trees. His grandmother had cultivated and cared for these fruit trees lovingly over the years. He wondered idly if they were diseased beyond salvation.
    Finally, he spotted the “apparition” his frightened servants had been complaining about all afternoon. In truth, the witch from Hawks’ Lair did look a mite ghostly in a long diaphanous veil which covered her entire body from head to toe, like a ghost, with specially made sleeves from which protruded odd leather gloves that reached up to her elbows. The hound she had kicked the night before lay nearby like a besotted lover.
    “By all the saints, woman! What do you out here at this time of day in that ridiculous apparel? ‘Tis almost time for our betrothal dinner.”
    Eadyth swiveled abruptly, just realizing he stood behind her. “Don’t come any closer. The bees are swarming and may attack.”
    Eirik’s eyes widened as he noticed the hundreds of bees covering her hands and glove-protected arms. In fact, they buzzed all over her flimsy garment, like live ornaments.
    “Are you daft, my lady? Come away from here at once.”
    “I am in no danger. ‘Tis my business, raising bees. I have told you so afore. I just wanted to see what wild species you have available here at Ravenshire afore I bring my bees here. I have had some success in mixing the breeds, but these are of an inferior quality and may have to be moved to another site.”
    Eirik shook his head in disbelief at this strange woman he was about to wed. Would she continually surprise him? And what was it about her that both repelled and attracted him at the same time? He had never lusted after older women in the past, and yet he did not think he would find the bedding of her as