Taming the Highland Bride (9 page)

“Alex is down on the practice field with the men,” Edda announced suddenly, noting Merry’s curious gaze. She then shifted in her seat and stood. “I suppose I should leave you to visit with your father and brothers. I shall be in the salon above stairs if you wish to speak to me ere you go.”

Merry nodded and started to lift her mead to take a drink, but paused as the woman’s words sank through her thoughts.
Ere you go?
Ere she went where? she wondered, and glanced around to call after the woman, but paused when her father touched her arm. Turning back to the table, she raised an eyebrow in question as she glanced to her father.

“He hurt ye, lass,” Eachann Stewart growled.

Merry’s eyes widened at the rage now in the man’s face. She stared at him blankly for a moment, stunned by a show of emotion she rarely saw from the man, and then set down her mead and peered at her pasty, muttering with embarrassment, “I am fine.”

“Ye’re no fine. The linen bears the proof. The man is an animal. If ye’re wantin’ to have the marriage annulled and return home with us, I’ll back ye up on it.”

That made her glance up sharply. Her father looked grim and determined, and her brothers were nodding their agreement to his offer. Merry didn’t know what to think. The men had been nothing but eager to see her go since learning of Lord d’Aumesbery’s return from Tunis, so this offer was more than a little surprising. After a stunned moment, she managed to gather her thoughts, cleared her throat, and then pointed out, “The linen bears the proof that the wedding canna be annulled.”

“We’ll say ye cut yer leg, or that ’tis yer woman’s time. D’Aumesbery was so fou with drink he probably doesna remember what he did last night.”

Merry simply stared at her father for the longest time. An annulment at this stage would mean forfeiting her dower. Her mind was finding it difficult to accept that he would make this offer. Truly, he and her brothers had been sunk so deep in their cups these last years, she’d felt sure they cared for naught but themselves. It was startling to find that they did, after all, care for her. The realization even brought tears to her eyes. But she wasn’t foolish enough to think this meant anything had changed. While she was tempted to accept the offer and escape her marriage, it would simply mean returning to Stewart and babysitting her father and brothers again until her father mustered himself to contract another marriage. If he ever did.

And did he, there was no guarantee she would
land in happier circumstances. At least at d’Aumesbery she knew what she had to deal with. Here she might have a drunken husband, but she was used to dealing with drunks, and here she also had Edda. Merry had missed the kindness, wisdom, and guidance of a woman since her mother’s death. Here she had that in her mother-in-law. And Edda even reminded her somewhat of her dear, deceased mother. Not in looks. Maighread Stewart had been a beautiful woman even in death, whereas Edda…Well, she wasn’t as pretty, Merry ended the thought lamely, unwilling to insult the woman even in her own mind.

Besides, her looks mattered little. The fact was Edda was English, and Merry’s own mother had been born to a Scottish husband and English mother and raised in England. Every time Edda spoke, Merry heard the same rhythm and cadence to her words as had been in her mother’s, and it reminded her of her youth when she’d felt safe and secure in her mother’s care. She would not give up the unhappy lot she had here for what might be an even unhappier lot somewhere else.

“Nay, I am fine,” she said finally, and then assured him, “He really was not so rough with me. I must just be a bleeder.”

Eachann Stewart’s eyes narrowed at her words and he then offered, “We will stay around here for a bit in case ye change yer mind.”

Merry blinked at the offer, surprised again. Alex had mentioned the night before the wedding that he thought they should ride back to Scotland the day after the wedding with her father and brothers for the added safety the increased number of men
would supply. But now her father seemed to be suggesting that—“I thought we were all traveling north today?”

Eachann Stewart looked affronted at the very suggestion. “Even d’Aumesbery isna base enough to force ye to travel today. Nay.” He shook his head. “Yer husband announced this morn when he came below that he was giving ye a week to heal and that we should go ahead without ye.”

Merry bit her lip, feeling bad that everyone was thinking so poorly of her husband over this business. Obviously, she had really miscalculated the amount of blood expected. Unfortunately, she didn’t know what to do to change that opinion of the man, short of admitting what she’d done.

“But,” her father continued, “we’ll stay right here to be sure the bastard doesna kill ye next time.”

That suggestion nearly made her wrinkle her nose. Did they stay, Merry knew it would mean nothing but a struggle for her as she fought to keep them from drinking, and embarrassing her or wrecking the place.

“Nay. There is no need for that,” she said solemnly, and when her father opened his mouth as if to argue, added, “We shall be traveling north to Donnachaidh as soon as enough time has passed for me to heal. ’Tis close to Stewart and easy enough fer me to ride over there then do I change my mind.”

Her father did not look pleased, but nodded after a moment and let his breath out. “Well then, I guess we may as well leave.”

Merry blinked at the abrupt announcement as the men stood up. “Now?”

“Aye, well, we did plan to leave today,” he pointed out. “Everything is ready. We were only waitin’ to see which way the wind was blowin’ with ye.”

Merry recalled Una telling her while helping her dress that she’d heard Alex order the whiskey locked up and the Stewart men to be told it had been used up in the celebrations for the wedding. It seemed likely to her that this was the real reason her father was now eager to go. It made the fact that he’d made the offer to stay—and that her brothers had not protested—even more surprising.

Suddenly aware that while her father and brothers had got to their feet, they now stood waiting for something, Merry glanced at them uncertainly and then rose herself. The moment she did, her father wrapped her in a warm embrace. He hugged her tightly and whispered, “Send fer me if ye need me, lass,” before releasing her and stepping aside.

Merry was still blinking in surprise at the unexpected embrace when Brodie took his place and caught her in a bear hug. His message was a little different. As he released her, he pointed at her chest and said, “If he gets too bothersome, a blade right here and twisted will end him fer ye.”

She smiled crookedly at the advice and pointed out, “’Twould put an end to both of us since I’d be hung fer murder.”

“Aye,” he acknowledged, and then suggested, “Jest push him down the stairs then so it looks an accident.”

“Stop giving her advice, Brodie, ye’re like to get her hung,” Gawain muttered, displacing him to clasp her in a warm embrace of his own so he could
whisper, “I ken we’ve been a pain, Merry. But we love ye fer all of that. I want a letter a month from ye so we ken ye’re well. All right?”

Merry nodded silently, unable to speak through the lump suddenly lodged in her throat. They were like strangers to her, or perhaps it was more as if her true brothers and father had been briefly returned to her. The ones who had existed before the drink had got the better of them. It made her heart ache. This was what they could have been all these years had drink not muddled their minds and made them so selfish and hard to handle.

“Come,” Laird Stewart growled, and Merry found herself jostled between Gawain and Brodie as they followed their father to the keep doors. A half sob, half laugh slipped from her lips when she was led outside to see their already saddled mounts, and the Stewart soldiers all milling about the empty wagon that had carried her belongings here. It didn’t make her doubt the sincerity of their offer to stay, but it seemed obvious they’d expected her response. Merry walked them down to their mounts, hugged each man one last time, and then impatiently dashed away the tears blurring her eyes as she watched the party ride out.

She found it hard to believe that after so many years of yearning to free of these three men, she now was upset at their going. But she couldn’t help but wonder who would look after them.

“’Tis hard, I know.”

Merry glanced around to find Edda beside her. She hadn’t heard the woman approach, but was grateful to have the distraction of her presence.

Edda smiled at her gently and reached out to take her hand, squeezing it reassuringly as she urged her toward the stairs. “I left my family and friends when I came here, too. ’Twas very hard on me. I had no interest in marrying a man nearly old enough to be my father, and even less interest in living so far away from the excitement of court.” She shook her head and then said, “Take my advice, Merry. Do not do what I did. Do not allow yourself to grow bitter and mean.”

“Mean?” Merry asked with a small laugh. “I’ve found ye quite kind.”

“Aye, well…” She paused, her lips twisting. “You have not been here long. No doubt you shall hear a tale or two from the servants and people here. I fear I was quite a horror for many years. Now everyone here hates me, and I cannot even blame them, for I brought it on myself with my previous behavior. Do not do that yourself. Accept your lot in life and make a place for yourself here.”

Merry nodded silently, her mind on the claim that Edda had been a horror. She found that hard to believe, but then she’d been surprised by her father and brothers’ behavior that day, too. Perhaps people were not all purely evil or purely good. Perhaps everyone had bad traits and better ones. Even herself.

“Merry?” Edda said softly.

She glanced at her in question, noting the discomfort on the woman’s face, and suspected whatever was coming had something to do with the bedding. She was right.

“I realize that the bedding must have been hor
rible for you, and I myself can hardly believe that Alex would be so brutal, but—”

“’Tis no’ what everyone thinks,” Merry interrupted quickly, feeling guilty that her ignorance of how much blood was needed had convinced everyone the man must have been cruel in his bedding. The man might be a drunk, but she had no desire to paint him blacker than he already was. Unfortunately, she suspected Edda would not believe the excuse that she was a bleeder as her father and brothers had. She took a moment and then decided it would be best to stick as close to the truth as possible in case her cut leg was ever discovered. It wasn’t likely, but not impossible. She might forget about it and change in front of one of the maids or something. They might note it and comment on it to Edda, and that might bring about doubt that the marriage was even consummated.

“Is it your woman’s time?” Edda asked, obviously trying to find another reason she might have bled so much.

“Nay, I finished that two weeks ago,” Merry admitted, and then almost smacked herself in the head for not thinking of that lie herself. It was too late now, however, so she said, “I have a wound high on my leg. It must have opened last night without my realizing it.”

“Oh,” Edda breathed, her eyes going wide. She hesitated and then said carefully, “So he did not hurt you last night? He was gentle with you?”

Merry knew she was really asking if the wedding had indeed been consummated. This was where the
truth would no longer suffice, and she lied solemnly, “Aye.”

“Good,” Edda said, but was still looking uncertain, and Merry felt moved to add to her lie.

“He was very gentle with me during the bedding…and
very
quick,” she added, recalling his exploding at her touch.

“Oh.” Edda’s eyes widened and then she patted her hand. “Perhaps that is for the best. Though I would not expect to be so lucky in the future. ’Twas probably just the excitement of the first time with you that had him finish fast.”

Merry wrinkled her nose at the warning. While it had been a problem for her last night and prevented her actually accomplishing the consummation, she suspected had they actually been consummating at the time, she would have appreciated his speed. Merry truly saw no joy in the act and believed when it came to unpleasant tasks, the sooner done the better.

“Well.” Edda patted her hand again. “I am relieved all went well. When I saw the linens…” She didn’t finish the comment, but just shook her head, and then pulled the keep door open and ushered Merry inside, saying, “Come, Cook wishes to discuss the menu for the week ahead and see if it suits you.”

Merry managed a smile of her own and allowed herself to be led across the great hall. She tried to walk as normally as possible, but the wound to her thigh made her walk oddly as she tried to avoid rubbing it. Noting the pitying glance Edda was giving
her and knowing why the woman thought she was in pain, Merry flushed but said nothing. She was grateful, though, that she would have some time for the cut to heal before having to travel. The wait would also allow her to settle in here at d’Aumesbery, and she was grateful for that as well.

A
lex reached for his drink and somehow misjudged its position, nearly knocking it over rather than picking it up. After adjusting his aim and managing to close his fingers around it, he raised it to his lips, but paused when his eyes slipped to his wife. She, of course, had not missed his clumsiness, and a sigh slid from his lips as he saw the disapproving look she was casting his way. Brodie had been right, she
did
resemble a fish when she did that.

It had been three weeks since their wedding day, and still they had not left for Donnachaidh. Unfortunately, the planned trip had met with delay after
delay. First there had been the week he’d decided he should allow his wife to heal from his drunken clumsiness on their wedding night. Alex had chafed at the delay, but made himself stick to it despite the fact that she seemed well enough after only a couple of days.

However, the day before they were to leave, illness had struck the castle, forcing another delay. It had been a cruel ailment, attacking a body so that the victims spent half their time tossing up whatever they’d eaten, and the other half running for the garderobe. The illness had struck in waves, taking out a couple dozen men, and then taking out another couple dozen when the first were just starting to feel better.

Alex grimaced at the memory, but then shook his head and acknowledged that it could have been worse. While it had kept him and the rest of the men busy trying to pick up the slack their absence left, at least it had not struck them all at once, leaving the castle completely unmanned. Still, he hadn’t been able to head to Scotland without leaving d’Aumesbery shorthanded, something he hadn’t been willing to do. But now, after two weeks, the illness appeared to have run its course. Unless you counted him. Alex had been suffering his own illness these three weeks since his wedding night, but his symptoms were different from those of his men. His stomach did not cause him trouble and he wasn’t running for the garderobe. Instead, every evening he found himself feeling off-kilter and disoriented, sometimes even dizzy. It left Alex slurring some of his words, missing his mug or trencher
when he reached for them, and staggering on occasion. In short, it left him appearing as drunk as he’d somehow gotten on his wedding night.

At one point, the fact that the symptoms occurred only at night had made him consider that someone might be drugging his ale at the sup. His wife had been the most likely suspect the moment that thought had taken hold. It had started only after her arrival, and—after his apparent brutality on their wedding night—she’d certainly have reason, he’d supposed. Alex had been so sure this might be the case that he’d entirely skipped drinking anything at all during two evening meals in a row. However, he’d still suffered the symptoms. That had reassured him and left him again to decide that he must be fighting off some sort of infection, perhaps even the one his men had been battling. If so, the reason he suffered symptoms only at night might be that after a full day of running about, filling in here and there, he was usually exhausted and at his weakest point.

Unfortunately, it was also when he saw the most of his new bride, and he very much feared she was completely mistaking his symptoms for a result of too much drink. Merry had watched him like a hawk every night since their wedding. She had not missed a single slip, stagger, or slurring of words, and he feared she was putting it all down to his being a drunk like her father and brothers. Alex did not blame her after their unfortunate first meeting, but that, too, was damned inconvenient. He’d intended to show her with his actions that he was nothing like her father and brothers; instead this damned illness was simply reinforcing her certainty
that he was. He’d considered trying to explain that he hadn’t been drinking and that he suspected his symptoms were the result of illness, but doubted she would believe it. Besides, he was having difficulty even attempting to converse with his wife. First there was his guilt and shame over his rough treatment on their wedding night, and then he very much doubted she would believe a word he said anyway. She had grown up with drunks and was probably used to their lies. Even if he pointed out that he didn’t drink at the table, she would probably just assume that he was drinking down at the inn beforehand.

Aside from that, however, Alex found it impossible to speak to his wife for another very different reason. The fact was that as ashamed as he was of his behavior on their wedding night, and as certain as he was that she must loathe him, he couldn’t be around the woman without growing as hard as a dead hen. Every night he sat at the table beside her, a need burning inside him and growing with each accidental brushing of arm or hand, each whisper of her voice as she spoke to Edda, and each inhalation of her scent that reached him. Knowing she probably feared and loathed the idea of his touch after the pain he must have caused her on their wedding night, Alex fought that desire. But while he won the battle in his mind and managed not to touch her when he joined her in their bed at night, he was definitely losing it in body. For the last three weeks he’d found himself sporting an erection that just would not die. The damned thing left him swollen and aching and nearly rabid with need. Not even in his
youth had he experienced such rampant desire and it was getting progressively worse each night.

In the normal course of events, Alex would have thought this a grand thing. With marriages being business contracts signed and sealed when the individuals were but children, it was a rare thing for a man to desire his wife as he did. And he would have thought himself a lucky man indeed had he not mucked up everything so royally on their wedding night. Now, however, Alex found himself lusting after a wife who appeared to loathe him. And the worst part was he couldn’t even resent or blame her. He hated himself for the shape he’d been in on their wedding night and what he must have done to her to produce so much blood. He found the matter preying on his mind most days like a venomous snake. Had she pleaded with him not to be so rough? Struggled to be free as his body had pinned her down? Had she wept?

Dear God, Alex had never in his life mistreated a woman. Not that he could recall, but now he worried if at another time while in his cups he’d hurt a woman. He’d rarely been in his cups, but even once was once too often if it meant he had hurt a smaller, defenseless woman. And how was he to make up for it?

Clearly, he had to. He could not stand a marriage that had become a cold war. Three weeks of it were wearing on his soul already, but he wasn’t sure how to repair the damage he’d done.

Alex glanced to his wife as she suddenly excused herself to retire. He watched unhappily as she walked toward the stairs, his eyes sliding over
the curve of her back, to the gown swaying around her hips. He wanted to get up and follow her. He wanted to trail her to their room, follow her inside, and catch her by the wrist to pull her back around as he pushed the door closed behind them. He wanted to kiss her eyes closed and then kiss her sweet mouth until the pursed look left, never to return, and then he wanted to strip away her clothes, kissing every inch of pale flesh revealed, and show her he wasn’t the monster she thought he was.

Unfortunately, Alex suspected did he try it, Merry would stiffen up and bristle, and while he was sure she wouldn’t refuse him, he doubted he could soothe her into relaxing, and if she didn’t relax, no amount of coaxing would bring passion to life within her, and it would be a stiff, uncomfortable act for both of them. That wasn’t what Alex wanted.

Turning back to his mug, he peered down into the liquid it held and fretted over what to do. Barring any more emergencies, they were to leave for Donnachaidh on the morrow, which meant days of travel ahead to reach his sister’s new home. Alex didn’t want to travel in the cold silence he’d lived with for three weeks, especially with his ever-present erection. Since the wedding, he’d been free of the damned thing only during the day while away from his bride, but they would be together for nearly a week straight during the journey, and he feared that would mean a very uncomfortable ride for him. Also, he didn’t cherish the thought of arriving at Donnachaidh with such an obviously unhappy bride.

However, to avoid all that he had to somehow
repair things with his wife, and to do that he needed to get her to let down her defenses around him. Getting her to drink excessively was completely out of the question, of course, but the only time she wasn’t stiff and prickly around him was when she was sleeping, and…

Alex paused in his thoughts as he considered that. When she was sleeping, she was warm and soft and had even cuddled up close to him in their bed with a sleepy murmur. It had been torture for him to lie there with her scent in his nostrils and her body warm and sweet against him as he fought doing what his erection urged him to do. But perhaps he shouldn’t fight it, Alex thought now. If he kissed and caressed her while she slept and she woke excited, perhaps he could show her that their wedding night had been an aberration and that there was pleasure and happiness to be found in the marriage bed.

“Are you not going to bed early, too, Alex?” Edda’s question drew his gaze her way as she continued, “You plan to leave early on the morrow, do you not?”

“Aye,” he growled, and stood abruptly. Had he been thinking, he would have recalled the erection presently causing a rather large bulge in the front of his braies and turned the opposite way to leave the table. Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought, and standing up placed it right in Edda’s face. Her widening eyes and sudden flush, followed by the way she turned her gaze quickly back to her food, reminded him, however, and Alex grimaced as he left the table. He followed his erection above stairs, thoughts and images of what might follow rolling
through his head. He would be gentle, he would stir her passions, he would—

Dear God, let this work
, Alex silently prayed as he reached the door to their room and eased it slowly open. A little breath of relief slipped from his lips when he saw that despite the fact that no more than ten or twenty minutes could have passed since she’d retired, his wife was abed and sound asleep. Perhaps it would work out after all.

That hope firm in his heart, Alex quickly snuffed out the lit torch by the door, leaving only the dying fire to light the room, and then—as silently as possible—stripped off his weapons and clothing and eased carefully into bed beside his wife.

Merry was slow to wake and wasn’t sure what woke her. At first she thought she was having a warm fuzzy dream, but it was unlike any dream she’d ever before experienced. She was cocooned in warmth and semidarkness, just the flicker of the dying fire casting small dancing shadows across the wall before her when she eased her eyes open. They soon drooped sleepily closed again, however, and she released a little sound of pleasure and shifted slightly against the warmth at her back as something slid warm and caressing down over her hip and along her upper leg. The sleepy little sound of pleasure slid from her lips once again, but ended with a low moan as the caress moved back up and continued up her waist and then around to drift feather-light over the lower curves of her breasts before stopping to cup one and squeeze gently.

Some instinct in Merry was urging her to open
her eyes then and wake fully, but she fought it. This was too pleasurable and she didn’t wish to wake up and have it come to an end, so she tilted her head back slightly as she felt lips gently brushing the side of her neck. The hand at her breast was kneading and sending an odd excitement tingling through her body. Merry found herself gasping in response, her behind shifting into the hips against her backside and unintentionally nudging a hardness resting there. It brought a moan from the questing lips now slipping up over her cheek and toward her mouth, and Merry could no longer pretend she was asleep. Her eyes blinked open and she turned her head to peer at who she knew must be her husband. Before she could speak, his lips covered hers and his tongue swept in to fill her mouth.

Merry was so startled by the invasion she went completely still, her mind filling with confusion as the combination of his caresses and kiss filled her with a sharp excitement that was almost overwhelming. She remained still and uncertain as his mouth explored hers, her hands balling into fists by her waist as he plucked at her nipples and sucked on her tongue, and then his hand drifted down over her stomach and a new, stronger wave of excitement swept over her, an almost anticipatory need that exploded into full-blown passion as his hand gently cupped the apex between her thighs. Merry gave a small jolt in response, her hips thrusting her against his hand, and then she felt one finger slip between the folds of her most private place, and the excitement spiked to a level that raised fear in her and had her grabbing at the hand to stop him.

Alex immediately stopped his caress, but he also broke their kiss to lift his head.

“I am your husband.”

He whispered the words against her lips and she stilled again, uncertainty flowing through her. He was her husband and had every right to do whatever he chose, and really, this was…

“I will be gentle,” Alex continued quietly, the brush of his lips and breath stirring little swirls of pleasure inside her despite the fears and anxieties rolling around inside her head. “I am sorry about our wedding night.”

Merry opened her mouth to tell him the truth. She would not have him feel bad for something he had not done, and besides, if he continued as he was going he would surely find out the truth for himself. However, before she could speak the words, he added, “I only had one small whiskey that night. That was my intention, but your father must have topped up my drink when I was not paying attention and so I drank more than I intended. I am sorry for it.”

Merry’s intention to set the record straight about their wedding night died right there and she felt her mouth turn down with disbelief. “I would believe that were it not for the fact you passed out drunk the day I arrived and have been drunk every night of the last three weeks since.”