Her words died on a gasp of surprise as she found herself suddenly pushed back on the furs. The gasp then died as well, as he followed her and covered her mouth with his own, swallowing the sound. Merry almost caught at his arms in surprise, but remembered the knife she held at the last moment and dropped it before reaching to grasp him. She had barely done so and begun to kiss him back when he broke the kiss as abruptly as it had started and suddenly leaned up so she could see his face.
"Look into my eyes, wife," Alex ordered grimly, and she did so with some confusion until he pointed out. "There is no dilation now. I am not drugged, but I want you, Merry." He ground the bulge between his legs against her to be sure she understood that he did indeed want her, and then added, "I have not bedded you for days because there has not been the opportunity. That first night in the tent my head was still pounding badly and I was exhausted from just riding."
"I knew we should ha'e waited another day ere travelin'," she muttered irritably at this news. "Evelinde and I both told ye 'twas too soon to be up."
"Aye," he admitted, and laughed at her irritation. "Mayhap it was, but I missed you in my bed and was happier leaving and at least being able to hold you, even if I was too exhausted to do aught else."
Merry went still. "Really?"
"Aye, really."
She took in his expression briefly and then said, "But then on the second night, why did we not--"
"Merry, the tent burned to the ground," he reminded her dryly. "We left the ruins there in the clearing and were forced to sleep around the fire with the men. Would you have me tumble my wife right there for all to see?"
"We could have slipped away to a private spot as we did on the way to Scotland," she pointed out.
"And risk having my head bashed in again?" he asked dryly. "Or worse yet, you getting in the way and getting hurt?" Alex shook his head and then admitted, "I was tempted, but in the end I was too afraid of losing you to my momentary greed."
"Well, we could ha'e slept in the wagon then," Merry suggested. "Una wouldna ha'e minded."
"Again, we would have been away from the men and more vulnerable to attack. I was not willing to risk you that way. 'Twas safer to stick close to and even sleep by the fire, surrounded by the men, and safety was my main concern. So I decided it was simply better to get us all home as quickly as possible." He smiled wryly and added, "I suppose you did notice that I set a punishing pace on the return journey? That was not wholly out of a concern for my, or even your, well-being. I was eager to get back here where we could be alone."
"Really?" she asked, her heart filling with hope.
"Oh, aye, Merry, really," he assured her grimly and then added, "Just think on it logically. While I imagine that dosing me did make me randier than usual, that was all it could do. It could not make me randy for you. I could have taken that randiness it caused elsewhere, had I wished. True?"
She scowled at the very suggestion, but nodded.
"But I did not. And I did not do so because my interest lay only with you," he told her solemnly and then assured her, "Merry, I find you beautiful and graceful and strong and intelligent. I am proud and happy to have you to wife, and were my father still alive I would be thanking him ten times a day for arranging this marriage. I want you, and none other than you. In fact..." He paused to take a breath and then admitted, "I love you, wife."
"Ye love me?" she asked, almost afraid she'd misheard him.
Alex's mouth tipped crookedly at her expression, and he said solemnly, "Aye, Merry. I love you. How could I help it? You are strong and determined and take on whatever needs doing when others will not. Yet, despite the hard outer shell you present to the world, your heart is still soft and you care for those around you. Aye, I love you, Merry d'Aumesbery."
Merry stared at Alex, a terrible sharp ache in her chest that she knew was love. She wanted to hold him so close that they would forever be one and never again part, but all she could do was swallow and blink away the tears that had risen to film her eyes, and then say equally solemnly, "And I love and want ye, too, husband. I find ye handsome and sweet and ever so considerate. I--"
He brought her list of his good attributes to an end with a kiss that took her breath away. Merry did not fight him. She could tell him how wonderful he was later. For now she wished to enjoy this newfound love in the most satisfying way she knew of. She wished to take him inside her body and feel him fill her up until they were one in body as well as heart.
Merry woke the next morning to sunshine and birdsong pouring through the unshuttered window...and Una standing over her, dry amusement on her face.
"I'm guessin' all is right with yer world," Una commented wryly as Merry blinked her eyes open and smiled at her.
"Aye," she admitted with a grin and sat up to glance around. "Where is me husband?"
"Up and off tendin' to castle business hours ago," Una informed her, moving away to open her chest and begin rooting through it for what Merry should wear that day. "I'd ha'e rousted ye from yer bed at the time, but he ordered me to let ye sleep as long as ye liked," she announced as she settled on a dark green gown and got to her feet once more. As she walked back toward her, Una added dryly, "He, too, was smiling like a fool. 'Tis obvious the two o' ye got up to houghmagandy while locked in here all day yesterday."
"Jealous?" Merry teased with a grin.
"Aye," she admitted sourly. "I need me a man with a claymore. Even that boy Godfrey is lookin' attractive to me just now."
Merry laughed at the suggestion as she tossed the linens aside and hopped from bed. "I think ye were right about yer feelin's ere we left Stewart,
Una," she announced as she moved to the basin of water to wash up. "I believe I will be much happier here than I ever was at Stewart."
"Aye," Una agreed, and then added seriously, "And 'tis happy I am fer ye. Ye've a fine husband there and I foresee many happy years and braw children...do the two o' ye settle this nasty business o' druggin' and attackin' ere one o' ye is seriously hurt."
Merry's smile immediately began to fade at this reminder that there was a snake in paradise.
"I had forgotten about that," she admitted on a mutter, and wondered how she possibly could.
"Well, I wouldna feel too bad about it. It looked to me like yer husband had quite fergot it, too, this morn. 'Tis that rosy glow of love. It fogs yer mind and blankets anything unpleasant."
"Aye," Merry murmured, and thought that she must not forget again. In fact, she was suddenly determined to resolve the situation as quickly as possible and asked, "Where is Edda?"
"At the table in the great hall," Una responded heavily. "And I can tell ye the servants are acting even queerer around her than usual, especially old Bet. I suspect Edda was up to no good while we were gone."
Merry didn't comment, but pondered this news as she washed and dressed. The more she heard, the more her own suspicions turned reluctantly to the woman, and it did seem for the best did they send her away, at least until they sorted the matter out.
Una left her to her silence as she helped her dress, and then remained behind to make the bed and clean up the room. Merry was alone when she descended the stairs to the great hall. Edda was no longer at the table, but had moved to sit by the fire. She stood, however, when she saw Merry, and smiled widely as she crossed the room to meet her at the table.
"Welcome back!"
Merry smiled in return and felt a pinch of guilt for her suspicions when the woman bent to hug her where she sat. It was enough to make her hug her back a bit more enthusiastically than she was feeling. "Thank ye. I hope all was well here while we were away?"
"Oh, aye," Edda assured her as she settled on the bench to keep her company. "My, you were hardly gone long enough for anything to be unwell."
"We had some difficulties on the journey and Alex thought it best to return."