Alex glared after the old woman as she slid out of the room again, but she paused once in the hall and glanced back to add, "You might be wanting to change your clothes and clean up a bit ere you go looking for her. You fair reek of whiskey, and I doubt that will impress her any. From what I have heard, she's had enough of that with her father and brothers."
Alex glanced down at his tunic and then lifted the material to give himself a sniff as the door closed behind the old nursemaid. His nose immediately wrinkled with distaste. It did reek of whiskey, and it was a bitter, stale smell, too.
Grimacing, he immediately tore off the tunic and tossed it across the foot of his bed. Alex then moved to the basin of water on the small table by the window to give himself a quick wash before searching out a fresh tunic from one of the two chests that held his belongings. Once satisfied that he was presentable, he then left his room and rushed below stairs.
Alex had intended to head straight out to the bailey to find his betrothed, but found himself halting on the bottom step to stare at the men presently seated at his trestle table. There were nearly a dozen of them, and every one wore a plaid and looked in need of a good washing. Obviously, these were his betrothed's brothers and father as well as the soldiers they'd brought with them on the journey. It looked to him as if, on arriving that morning, they'd settled themselves at his table and not moved since except to raise their drinks to their mouths. They were obviously drunk and loud and boisterous with it. He wasn't pleased, but wasn't terribly surprised, either. Gossip tended to travel on the wind, often carried by traveling performers as well as salesmen selling spices and other foreign goods. From what he'd heard over the years, Eachann Stewart and his two sons had a reputation for being over-fond of their drink...and apparently his own, and anyone else's they could get their hands on. His father, James, had not been much for drink himself, and Alex suspected Lord Stewart's tendency toward drunkenness was part of the reason the friendship had ended, and possibly why his father had not been pushing him to marry Merewen Stewart.
Thoughts of his betrothed reminded Alex of the task he'd set himself and he turned toward the door, but had hardly taken a step before he was spotted and hailed. "Oy! Lad, come sit yerself fer a minute and visit with yer new kin."
Heaving out a breath at how near he'd been to escaping unnoticed, Alex turned back and reluctantly moved to the table, thinking he'd just explain he was off to find Merry and excuse himself. However, before he could say anything at all, before he'd even quite reached them, the oldest man in the group--Eachann Stewart, he supposed--announced, "'Tis glad I am I'm gettin' a chance to speak to ye ere our Merry does."
"Oh? Why is that?" Alex asked cautiously as he paused. Eachann Stewart appeared to have seen nearly six decades. He was more paunch than shoulders, a rat's nest of wiry grey hair springing out of an oddly large head over a face that was flushed from drink and made up of small squinting eyes, thin lips, and a slightly bulbous nose. He was also obviously well into his cups. His speech was slurred, and he was swaying like a sapling in a stiff breeze in the larger of the only two chairs at the table. They were the lord's and lady's chairs. Everyone else used the benches that ran around the tables. The man he thought was Eachann Stewart presently sat in the chair Alexander had occupied since returning from Tunis. A younger version of the man sat in the smaller chair.
"Well, lad," Eachann Stewart said, drawing his gaze back to his face. "Ye see, when we heard ye were returned, we decided to save ye a trip north and bring our Merry to ye, but we kenned she'd no agree. She'd expect ye to collect her all good and proper, ye see. So we fibbed a little to our lass."
Alex let his eyebrows rise in question.
"We told her ye were the one to send fer her," he explained, and then added slyly, "We knew ye would o' course. After all, 'tis well past time the two o' ye were married, and ye wouldn't be wantin' anyone thinking ye were trying to avoid the duty."
Alex managed not to wince at the accusation in the man's voice.
"'Tis understandable if ye were delayin' as long as ye could," he went on in a friendly manner. "I ken from yer greeting on our arrival that ye've heard Merry's called the Stewart Shrew, and that name's no' likely to make ye eager to claim her, but she isna as bad as all that."
Alex was still. He'd heard she was called that, but had never thought to hear her own father bring up the name.
"'Tis our fault she's called that," Eachann added almost regretfully.
"Aye," the younger man in the second chair said. He was very similar in looks to his father, but with carrot-colored hair. He also sounded amused rather than regretful as he added, "We gave her the name."
"My son Brodie," Eachann introduced, glaring at his boy, and then he turned to the man on his other side, one who could have been the first's twin, and introduced him as well. "And this is Gawain."
Both younger men nodded, and Alex nodded a bit stiffly back. The brothers were in at least as bad a state as their father. All three were swaying back and forth in their seats almost in time. It made Alex feel like he was on a ship in rough waters.
"Aye, we did give her the name," Eachann admitted. "I fear our Merry tends to worry and fret over us. She doesna understand about a man and his drink. Got that from her mother," he confided. "My Maighread was always disapproving when we had a little whiskey. But that's the only complaint I have with the girl. She's a good chit, generally good-natured, and always willing to lend a hand and take care of things," he assured him, and added, "Why, right now she's down overseeing the men at practice fer ye because ye were too...er...indisposed to manage the task yerself."
The old man grinned. "To be in such a state ye must ha'e been at the end o' a long celebration. We like to do that oursel'es and understand, but Merry might be a bit testy about it. Ne'er fear, though, she may get angry, but she'll still tend to anything that needs tending and stand in fer ye where she has to."
Alex's brow puckered at these words. It seemed obvious they had no idea he'd only drunk the whiskey that morning to have a tooth pulled, but believed he'd actually just been drinking for drink's sake that early. He found the idea, and their easy and cheerful acceptance of such behavior, absolutely deplorable. Alex had met men over the years too fond of their drink. He'd even had a man or two under him take to the problem. The minute he suspected someone of it, he dealt with it by first trying to get the man to stop, and then by releasing the man from his vow to serve under him. He had no desire to have a drunk under his command. Dependence on drink made a soldier sloppy and undependable and like to get himself or someone else killed.
"I'm getting a crick in me neck staring up at ye," the Stewart complained, and then turned to give the son seated in the chair next to his own a push. "Get out o' the chair, lad, and let our host sit with us."
"There is no need for that," Alex said quietly, having no desire to join the men. "I was just going out to oversee my men at practice."
"But, lad, like I told ye, Merry'll tend to it. She's a fair hand with the men."
Alex stiffened. "'Tis my place to--"
"There's no need," Eachann interrupted. "Her mother raised her well, Merry's a fine helpmate. She'll tend everything do ye wish it. She does everything at Stewart."
"And what do you do?" he asked curiously.
"Whatever we wish," Gawain said with a laugh.
"Aye. 'Tis a grand life ye're headed for," Brodie informed him, and then snickered as if that were a joke. It brought a glare from his father.
"'Tis a grand life ye're headed for," Eachann insisted quietly when Brodie fell solemn. "My Merry's a hard worker. She'll step in and tend whatever needs tending."
"Which would be grand if she did so without glaring at us like we've done something wrong," Brodie put in, appearing irritated at the compliment to his missing sister.
"Aye," Gawain agreed, and warned, "she has a glare that'll singe the hair off yer arse."
"And then there's her fish face," Brodie muttered, gaining an elbow in the ribs from h
is father. Unsteady as he was, it nearly sent the younger man tumbling to the rushes before he caught at the table to save himself.
"Fish face?" Alex asked with bewilderment.
"Aye," Gawain answered as his brother struggled to sit up straight. "She narrows her eyes and purses her lips like this and looks just like a fish when she's disapproving or--" His words came to an end on a yelp as his father now slammed his other elbow into him. While Brodie had managed to save himself, Gawain couldn't and landed in the rushes. He burst out laughing as if his state of inebriation were a grand joke rather than the sad showing it was, and then his laughter faded and his eyes closed and he began to snore.
"Don't trouble yerself about him," Laird Stewart slurred with unconcern. "We've been celebrating yer upcoming nuptials since arriving and he's in his cups. He'll be fine and fit for the ceremony tomorrow though, I'm sure."
Alex shifted his gaze to the older man as he continued.
"As for Merry, aye, she glares and makes strange faces, but that's the worst o' it, and that's damned good by anyone's standards, especially when ye get the benefit o' her tending to everything fer ye in return. She'll be a good wife to ye."
Alex's gaze moved from Eachann to Brodie and back. Brodie was scowling with resentment, obviously not pleased at the compliments to his sister. As for Eachann, he was looking a tad sad and regretful, and Alex suspected the man was realizing what he was losing. Who was going to run Stewart when these men returned and slipped completely into their cups? He knew from what little gossip he'd heard over the years that the burden had fallen to Merry since her mother's death, and suspected her father, at least, knew what they were losing. It made him wonder why the old man had lied to get her there and not done everything he could to delay losing her to this marriage instead. Alex wanted to think it was because the man had some sense of decency left in him and wished to see her happy and married despite the burden losing her would be, but he suspected the truth was he'd merely bowed to the wishes and demands of his sons, who were obviously happy at the prospect of being rid of her.