"Aye."
"They're no' drinking, are they?"
"Aye, and my best whiskey from what I could tell," Alex said dryly.
Much to his amazement, Merry spat out a curse he'd never expected to come from a woman though he'd heard it often enough on the tongues of his soldiers, and then she whirled and hurried away toward the keep.
Sudden concern claiming him, Alex was about to follow when Gerhard appeared at his side and commented, "I did try to steer her away from the practice field, but she's a determined little thing."
Alex grunted, but before he could respond, the man added, "I tried to explain about your tooth and the whiskey this morning when they arrived, but her father wouldn't let me and kept interrupting."
"He probably thought you would say something that would give away that I had not sent for her," Alex said dryly.
"She thinks you sent for her?" Gerhard asked with surprise.
Alex nodded. "I gather her father and brothers thought my sending for her more likely to get her to come, and they seem eager to be free of her disapproval of their drinking. It sounds to me as if they do a lot of it, leaving Merry to run Stewart these last years."
Gerhard nodded, not appearing surprised. "She seems to be very able at it. While I did try to steer her away from overseeing practice, she was good at it, picking out problems and flaws in the fighters and insisting on training them herself. She is surprisingly skilled."
"Aye, so I noticed," Alex murmured, his eyes narrowing on his betrothed. Her steps became stiffer and more militant with every step toward the keep, and he suspected the Stewart men were about to get more than the usual glare and fish face. It suddenly seemed a good idea for him to be there. Glancing at Gerhard, he said, "Tell the men 'tis enough practice for today. 'Tis nearly time for the sup anyway."
He waited just long enough to see Gerhard nod and then hurried after his betrothed. Fast as she was moving, and though she had a head start, Alex had longer legs and had reduced the distance between them by the time Merry reached the keep.
He was just starting up the steps when she reached the keep doors, still he was close enough to hear the shrieks coming from inside the moment the door opened.
Alarm coursing through him, Alex charged up the stairs even as Merry cursed and rushed inside. The door closed behind her with a loud thud that silenced the screams from inside before he reached it. Those screams reached him again, however, the moment Alex opened the door himself. He took in what was happening at a glance. The rest of the Scots were quiet and wary-looking as they noted Merry's arrival, but Gawain was still unconscious on the floor beside the trestle table, and Laird Eachann himself appeared to have passed out slumped forward on the table. Brodie, however, was still conscious and was presently trying to hold one of the struggling d'Aumesbery maids in his lap and kiss her. He wasn't succeeding very well. The girl was struggling in earnest to be free of his clutches, but those struggles ceased and her mouth made an O of surprise when Merry reached them and promptly smashed her shield down over her brother's head with a bong that made even Alex wince.
Brodie apparently had a thick skull. He merely shook his head and stood up, dumping the maid to the floor so that he could swing around and confront his attacker.
Alex put on even more speed, rushing forward to be at hand to defend Merry if necessary, but the lass didn't need defending. When her brother turned unsteadily and swayed before her, face furious and mouth opening, no doubt to berate her, Merry slammed the shield over his head again.
"What diya think ye're doing, ye great gowk?" she snapped as her brother reached up to rub his head. "The lass isna willing. Leave her be."
"I was just havin' a little fun," Brodie growled, swaying like a giant oak whose base had all but been hacked away by men with axes.
"Well she wasna having fun," Merry barked, and hit him again for good measure.
The third time was the charm. Where the first two had hardly seemed to do more than get his attention, the third blow finally felled the man, sending him first to his knees, where he blinked briefly with confusion before slumping forward on his face in the rushes.
Alex slowed, his eyes shifting to Merewen Stewart. The expression that crossed her face as she peered down at her brother was a combination of shame, fury, and disgust, and then she turned on the maid.
"I told ye all no' to let them drink aught but ale."
"Aye, my lady, but they are guests and were demanding whiskey and--"
Merry silenced her by grabbing her arm to give her a small shake. "I care naught what they were demanding. Listen to me in future. They're no' to have a drop o' whiskey here. Understand?"
"Aye, my lady. I'm sorry, my lady," the girl said quickly.
Merry patted the girl's arm and then turned to sweep a glance over the three unconscious Stewart men before turning to the soldiers still seated at the table. "Well? What are ye waitin' fer? Gather yer laird and me brothers and take their worthless hides above stairs. They can sleep this off in their rooms."
The soldiers moved at once, getting to their feet to follow her orders. Alex watched them with interest. He had assumed that they were as drunk as their laird and his sons, but now realized he'd thought wrong. Not one of them appeared the least unsteady on his feet as they began to drag the three Stewart men away. It seemed while they'd kept them company, not a one had drunk as deeply as the men they served. He also couldn't help but notice the respectful deference the men showed Merry. It was only now, seeing the glances and nods they cast her way, that he realized that respect had been missing from their expressions as they'd sat with her father and brothers earlier. They hadn't been openly disrespectful then, but he could now see the difference in their attitudes to each.
Once the men had disappeared above stairs with their burdens, Alex turned his gaze back to Merry. He was just in time to see her head and shoulders droop as if under a terrible weight. He realized then that she had no idea he'd followed her inside. Alex was positive Merry wouldn't allow herself to be seen as anything but strong and capable in the normal course of events and usually hid any feelings of defeat or weariness her family's antics caused. He was glad to see it, however. It allowed him to see a vulnerability he suspected he otherwise wouldn't have been privy to.
It was a very brief vulnerability. Barely a heartbeat had passed before Merry released a heavy sigh, straightened her shoulders, and moved off toward the stairs. Alex found his eyes sliding down over her lithe shape as she went, traveling over the bulky mail jerkin she wore to her behind in the braies. He'd never before seen a woman wear braies. It was really quite...Alex licked his lips as he watched the cheeks of her bottom move with each step and then realized what he was doing, gave his head a shake, and forced himself to turn away as she reached the stairs and began to ascend them. Moving to the table then, he sat down and considered the situation at hand.
It seemed he was getting married on the morrow...to a woman who presently thought him a drunken lout like her father and brothers. He could simply sit her down and explain things and tell her that he wasn't a drinking man, but having dealt with drunks himself, he knew they were prone to lying to hide their affliction and doubted she would believe him if he simply told her. The best way, he supposed, was to show her by his actions. After a week or so of their living to
gether, she would see that he didn't drink and wasn't like her father and brothers.
chapter Three
Her husband was a drunk, Merry acknowledged unhappily as she watched him out of the corner of her eye.
It was dinnertime on the day after she and her kin had arrived at d'Aumesbery. Her wedding feast, but that wasn't the only reason this meal differed from the one the night before. That had been a quiet affair. Her father and brothers had been sleeping off their drink in their rooms, and Merry had been so embarrassed about them that she'd found it difficult to relax or respond much to Alex's efforts to engage her in conversation at the table. She'd been relieved when the meal had come to an end and she could excuse herself, claiming weariness from her journey to make her way up to her room. Not that she'd slept. Mostly she'd found her mind whirling with worries about her looming marriage and the wedding night that would follow, so that it was quite late when she'd finally drifted off to sleep.
It had been late when her maid, Una, had woken her. The woman wasn't pleased to have to move to England and had been quiet since they'd left Stewart. She'd continued that way this morning, saying little to distract Merry from her worries about the coming bedding as she'd helped her bathe, dress, and fix her hair. The great hall had been empty when Merry had made her way below, but Edda had soon joined her and kept her company as she broke her fast. From her she'd learned that Alex was out passing the morning training the men and would come in to bathe and prepare for the wedding at the nooning hour.
The rest of the day had passed in something of a nervous blur for her; the nooning meal, the wait for the priest and Alex to be ready, the ceremony itself...The only thing that Merry really recalled about the wedding was the moment when Alex had pressed his lips to hers to seal the marriage. She'd gone stiff in his hold, but every sense in her had been on the alert and she'd been aware of the fresh, male scent of him wafting into her nose, the feel of his warm, gentle hands on either side of her face, the pressure of his lips brushing softly across hers, and even his taste when she'd licked her lips nervously afterward.
Now, she watched her husband slur out his answer to a question her father had asked and felt her heart sink. It was disappointing when the meal had started with such promise. At first, Alex had refused the drinks flowing so freely around the table and she'd felt relieved that, this night at least, he would refrain from drinking, and she'd hoped the bedding would be, if not easy, at least less of an ordeal than she'd feared since arriving to find her betrothed was as much of a drunken lout as her father and brothers. But halfway through the meal her father had stood to make a toast and had insisted that Alex must have a drink to toast it with, else he'd be insulting the Stewarts. Alex had reluctantly allowed some whiskey to be poured into the empty mug he'd been drinking mead from ere that, but had stopped them after only a couple of drops had been poured in. However, he'd obviously topped it up since then. The man was unmistakably in his cups. Aside from slurring, he was also unsteady in his seat, and twice she'd seen him reach for something on the table and miss it.