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Really, what else could she say? The man was obviously beyond drunk and wouldn't remember any reprimand anyway.
"You're welcome." He beamed at her and then in the next moment grimaced and turned to tell Gerhard, "I don't feel so good."
The last word had barely slipped from his lips before he suddenly fell forward and flat on his face on the floor.
For a moment, the room was silent and still as everyone stared down at the unconscious man. But Merry's thoughts were not silent. Her mind was wailing in loss and fury as every last dream she'd had on the way here died a sudden, horrible death. She had gone from the pot into the fire, leaving one home of drunks to live in another, but this was worse. This drunk had rights to her bed and body. And he'd been in a drunken rage, throttling another man just moments ago, so appeared to be a mean drunk.
Merry closed her eyes, depression and misery settling over her. She would never get away from drunkards and fools. She allowed herself a moment of self-pity, then she straightened her shoulders and forced her eyes open again. Finding everyone now peering not at the man on the floor but at her, Merry controlled her expression and raised her head.
"Well," she said grimly. "Diya no think ye'd best carry yer laird's worthless hide up to his bed?"
Glances were exchanged, and then there was a sudden rush as every single man present began to shuffle forward. There were too many for the task. In the end only four were needed, each taking an arm or leg to cart him toward the stairs. The others followed, however, even the man whom her betrothed had been throttling when she'd first arrived.
Merry watched them go and then started to glance toward her father, but her gaze caught on a woman she hadn't noted earlier. Standing on the other side of where the men had been, the brunette appeared a good fifteen years older than she. She was also taller, with a thick frame and small eyes presently narrowed thoughtfully as she looked after the men carrying Alexander away. Merry peered at her curiously, wondering who she was. Then the woman glanced toward her, offered an anxious smile, and rushed forward.
"Good morn, Merewen. I am Edda, Alexander's stepmother. Welcome to d'Aumesbery."
"Thank you," Merry murmured as her hands were clasped in the woman's larger, strong hands. "Pray, call me Merry."
"Thank you, dear." Edda smiled, but it was a crooked smile, tinged with worry, and she rushed on. "I am ever so sorry you saw that. Did Gerhard explain matters to you?"
"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 circumstances." 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 embarrassing 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
Pain 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 hell."
