Part 2 (1/2)
”Aye,” Merry said dryly. ”He explained when he greeted us that my betrothed was indisposed.”
”Oh, good.” She looked relieved. ”I feared you might get the entirely wrong impression. But truly, while Alexander has been away these three years, I am quite positive he has not become a drinker and normally does not down a full pitcher of whiskey first thing in the morn. These are somewhat unusual circ.u.mstances.” She smiled wryly and then urged Merewen toward the table. ”Come, sit yourselves down. Have you broken your fast yet this morn?”
”Nay,” Merry's father answered as they settled themselves at the trestle table. ”We reached yer woods late last night and camped out there until this morning, but Merry was up early and through with her ablutions by the time the rest o' us woke so we rode straight here.”
Edda nodded and then glanced to a maid who was hovering several feet away. ”Lia, fetch some mead for Lady Merewen and...” She paused and glanced to Eachann Stewart. ”For you gentlemen?”
”Mead fer them, too,” Merry said firmly.
”Merry,” Eachann protested, ”we've been traveling for days without a drop o' whiskey, surely we-”
”-shall manage without it so long as ye're here,” she said grimly and then leaned forward to hiss in a voice she hoped Edda could not hear, ”I'll no ha'e the three o' ye embarra.s.sing me while ye're here. There'll be no whiskey fer ye.”
He scowled but didn't protest further, and Merry turned to Edda and offered a relieved smile. ”They are fine with mead, too.”
”Mead then for the men as well, Lia, and something for them to eat.” The moment the girl rushed away, Edda turned back and offered a smile. ”I hope your journey here was a pleasant one.”
Merry grimaced. ”Riding from dusk until well past dawn fer days on end is rarely pleasant, but we were fortunate and didna run into bandits or trouble o' that sort.”
”From dusk until dawn?” Edda asked with surprise.
”Aye, well, meself and me sons are all here, are we no'?” her father said defensively. ”We left one o' the men in charge o' Stewart while we're away, but 'tis no' the same as me being there.”
Merry snorted at this, earning a glare from her father before he continued, ”We wanted to get the gel here, see her wed, and then get back to Stewart.”
”Oh, aye, of course,” Edda murmured sympathetically. ”I suppose you must get back as quickly as you can. 'Tis a reflection of your caring for Merry that you would all come to see her wed and leave someone else in charge.”
Merry managed not to snort as her father and brothers all puffed up under the compliment. 'Twas not caring but eagerness to be rid of her, she was sure, but didn't say so.
”Aye, just so,” her father said staunchly, and then added, ”That being the case, mayhap ye can send fer yer priest and-”
”Father,” Merry snapped.
”What?” he asked defensively. ”Yer betrothed wishes to get to Donnachaidh and we need to return to Stewart. There is no reason to delay.”
”Except fer the wee matter of the groom bein' unconscious,” she pointed out dryly.
”Aye, that does put a bit of a wrinkle in things,” Edda said with a twinkle in her eye. ”But I am sure he shall be recovered by the sup, or by tomorrow morn at the latest. There is no reason the wedding cannot take place first thing on the morrow, and then everyone may set out on their journeys.”
Her father and brothers agreed quickly, but Merry remained silent. She was no longer eager to be married, but there was really no reason to delay. The contract was binding and she would have to marry him eventually. Realizing that Edda was peering at her in question, apparently looking for her agreement, Merry sighed and nodded.
”Good!” Edda said brightly. ”Then after you have eaten, I shall hunt down Father Gibbon while you talk to Cook.”
”Me?” Merry asked with surprise.
”Aye, well, you will be the lady here by the morrow and in charge of everyone. You may as well begin now. Besides, 'tis your wedding, dear, and while it may be a bit rushed, you should really be the one to chose the menu for the wedding feast and so on.”
Merry smiled uncertainly, but again nodded. Put that way, there really seemed little reason for her not to be the one to talk to Cook. She just hoped Cook agreed and would take orders from her despite the fact that she hadn't yet married his lord and officially become his lady.
chapter Two.
P ain was a great monster inside Alexander's skull, slamming a mace around with sharp blows. It made him shut his eyes more tightly and groan as he instinctively fought returning to consciousness and fully experiencing the pain attacking him.
”You can squeeze your eyes closed all you like, but 'twill not stop the pain.”
Alex's eyes popped open at those raspy words, and he scowled at the gnarled old woman who stood beside the bed mixing something in a wooden mug. However, the moment he recognized Bet, his mother's old nursemaid, he forced the scowl from his face and squeezed his eyes closed once more. ”I feel like h.e.l.l.”
”A pitcher of whiskey on an empty stomach first thing in the morn will do that to you.” The woman didn't sound terribly sympathetic. ”And you gave yourself a nice goose egg on your forehead when you fell on your face, too. I'm sure that's not helping. Here, sit up and get this into you. It'll help ease the pain.”
”Fell on my face?” Alex growled, eyes popping open. His gaze landed on the wooden mug she was holding out and, after the briefest hesitation, he sat up to take it.
”Aye,” she a.s.sured him. ”Right at the feet of your betrothed, too. Made a fine first impression I'm sure. Drink it,” she added, sounding a bit impatient when he started to lower the mug full of vile-smelling liquid, his mouth opening on another question.
Alex briefly considered reminding the woman of her place and that he was her lord, but knew from experience that neither reminder would impress her. It was hard to impress someone with your power and position when she'd changed your nappies as a babe. Grimacing, he didn't even bother attempting to argue with the stubborn old woman, but quickly downed the drink. It tasted as bad as it smelled, of course. He wasn't surprised. Bet's medicinals had always been the most G.o.d-awful tasting brews, but they also usually worked d.a.m.ned well. He would have been grateful for her vile concoctions and less-than-tender mercies more than a time or two in Tunis.
Managing to down the entire contents in two healthy swallows, Alex grimaced at the taste as he handed the mug back and then growled, ”What was that about my betrothed being here?”
”She and her kin arrived just as Grefin was making his attempt to yank out your bad tooth,” Bet announced, and there was no mistaking the amus.e.m.e.nt on her wrinkled face.
Alex ignored it for now, instead scowling as the fuzzy memory of the morning's misery slid through his mind. Just poking at the tooth had caused agony, but the blacksmith's clamping his pincers on it and trying to yank it from his jaw had been h.e.l.l. The pain of it had been so shockingly fierce that Alex hadn't, at first, even been able to find the breath to roar his agony. But then something had distracted the men holding him, and he'd managed to break free and grab Grefin by the throat to bring his torture to an end. The blacksmith had dropped his pincers and tried to back away, and the moment he wasn't fiddling with his tooth, Alex had got his breath back and roared his fury as he'd followed the man, stumbling to his feet before the two of them had tumbled to the floor.
He could only think it was a good thing he'd roared because that had caught his men's attention and recalled them to their duty. It was probably the only thing that had saved Grefin a good thras.h.i.+ng. Alex also decided it had been a good thing Grefin had insisted on their waiting half an hour for the whiskey he'd downed to take effect before making the attempt. If there was a worse pain than that he'd suffered while numbed by whiskey, Alex had no desire to experience it. Honestly, he'd taken sword wounds in Tunis that had hurt less.
The thought made him search around inside his mouth for the tooth in question. Relief slid through him when he felt a hole where the tooth had once been.
”He got the tooth out once you were in your bed,” Bet announced. ”Grefin said it was much easier to yank out when you weren't fighting him. It only took him a moment once you were unconscious.”
Alex grimaced at the claim and shook his head. Those vague memories of Grefin's struggling to remove his tooth down in the great hall and then his attacking him were the last things he recalled. He had no recollection at all of Merewen Stewart's arrival. ”Why is my betrothed here?”
”To marry you, why else?” Bet said with a shrug as she began to put away her pouch of medicinals.
Alex scowled at the woman. ”She should have waited for me to go to her, not-”
”You were dragging your feet over the business, were you not?” Bet asked dryly. ”It seems she grew weary of the waiting and came to see the deed done.”
Alex pursed his lips with displeasure. He wasn't ready to marry. He'd planned to take the time to get matters in order here and then visit his sister. After that, perhaps on the way home, he might have stopped to claim the wench. Or not. There was no rush. Apparently, she didn't see it that way.
”Although,” Bet continued when he remained silent, ”from what I've seen and heard, I suspect it was really her kin who are eager to be rid of the chit.”
”Well, I am not surprised,” Alex muttered, feeling worry rise up in him as he thought of the things he'd heard about his future wife. Noting the raised eyebrows Bet had turned his way, he explained, ”She's called the Stewart Shrew.”
Bet nodded and commented dryly, ”So you said when you saw her.”
”What?” he asked sharply.
”When she arrived and you first saw her, I'm told your greeting was to say she didn't look much like a shrew or some such thing,” Bet explained, her eyes now twinkling with silent mirth.