"Well, he has dragged his feet about coming to get her," Brodie pointed out reluctantly.
"Nay," Eachann Stewart denied quickly. "He was on crusade at the request of his English prince."
"But the prince returned two years ago and d'Aumesbery didna," Brodie pointed out.
"Aye," Gawain said with alarm. "What if he heard that our Merry was a harpy and a shrew and was trying to avoid wedding her?"
"Well, he can't," their father said firmly. "We'll follow him to the ends of the world if need be. He's marrying the lass and that's that. Now hush, I'll not have Merry hear ye calling her harpy and shrew and taking out her temper on us."
Aware that the men were peering back at her anxiously, Merry kept her face expressionless and continued to stare into the woods they were traveling through. She was too weary to put them in their places as she normally would. Besides, it wasn't the first time she'd heard herself referred to as a harpy or the Stewart Shrew. The names had lost their ability to hurt her feelings long ago, but they did make her wonder now. Had her betrothed heard she was a harpy and shrew and set out to try and avoid marrying her?
The idea was a troubling one that preoccupied her for several minutes. In none of her imaginings about her future had her betrothed wished to avoid their marriage.
"There it is."
Merry raised her head and drew her mount to a halt behind the men as they suddenly cleared the woods and a castle loomed before them. D'Aumesbery was a large, imposing fortress, perched on a hill and overlooking the land surrounding it. It was much bigger than Stewart, which didn't bother her except to make her wonder how her father had managed to arrange such an advantageous marriage. He'd always claimed it had come about through friendship with the late Lord d'Aumesbery, claiming the two men had met at court while young and started a friendship that had lasted a decade. D'Aumesbery's son, Alexander, had been born five years before her, but the moment Merewen had been born, the two men had sealed their friendship with the marriage contract.
Merry suspected the friendship had not lasted long after that. At least she didn't ever recall visiting between the families. She suspected her father's drinking might have had something to do with it. Her mother had once said that while her father had been a hard drinker when younger, he had not grown really bad until his own father's death when Merry was two. It seemed his grief combined with the new responsibility as laird had pushed him that final step to prefer the happy, fuzzy state of drunkenness to the sober reality of his life.
"Here we are, Merry." Her father turned to beam a smile on her. One that was reflected on her brothers' faces as well, she noted as he added, "Ye'll meet yer betrothed now, and soon ye'll be a married lady with a passel of bairns to chase about."
Aye, rather than three grown drunks, Merry thought, but didn't speak the words aloud. Why bother? Very soon she would be free of that chore. She'd have a husband of her own, one who, she hoped, would be nothing like her father and brothers.
With that hope firmly in mind, Merry urged her mare past the men and up the hill. It was late enough in the morning that the drawbridge was down and the gate open. Still, they were hailed as they approached, and Merry stopped and left it to her father to answer the hail and explain their presence. She then followed his mount into the bailey and straight to the steps of the keep, knowing the news of their arrival would reach it before they did.
Merry was dismounting when she heard the keep doors open. Once on the ground, she saw that a seasoned soldier was rushing down the stairs toward them. It was not her betrothed. He was only five years older than she, and this man looked to be fifteen or twenty years older at least. Wondering who he was, Merry moved to stand beside her father as the man reached them.
"Lord Stewart," the man greeted, holding out his hand as he stepped off the stairs. "'Tis a pleasure to meet you. I am Gerhard, Lord d'Aumesbery's...man."
Merry's eyebrows rose slightly at his hesitation. It appeared to her that he hadn't been sure what to call himself, or what his station was. Odd, she thought as she watched the two men shake hands. Then the Englishman was turning to her, beaming brightly.
"And you must be Lady Merewen. A pleasure, my lady. Welcome to d'Aumesbery."
"Thank you," she murmured, and then waited patiently as her father introduced her brothers. Gerhard greeted both men politely and then shifted his attention to the rest of their party, who had dismounted and now stood about uncertainly.
"I shall have your horses and wagon attended to directly. In the meantime, perhaps we should go in."
Her father nodded, and took Merry's arm to lead her to the stairs, asking, "Where's d'Aumesbery? He should ha'e been here to greet us. He isna away, is he?"
"Nay, nay," Gerhard assured them as he followed them up the stairs, Brodie and Gawain trailing behind. "In fact, you are most fortunate in that way. Had you arrived on the morrow, we would have already left for Donnachaidh."
"Donnachaidh?" Merry asked with surprise, halting to turn to the man. Donnachaidh was the Duncan stronghold, and less than a half day's journey from Stewart.
"Aye. Alexander's sister, Evelinde, recently married the Devil of Donnachaidh, and he wishes to check on her," Gerhard said as her father urged her forward once more. "Actually, we were supposed to leave this morn, but Alex is...er...indisposed."
Merry felt trepidation slide through her at his choice of word. "Indisposed" was the term she used when referring to her father and brothers when they were nursing a sore head after a night--or several days--of drinking. And what did he mean they were supposed to leave that morn? The man had sent for her. Surely he hadn't then planned to leave ere she arrived?
"All's well that ends well, eh?" her father said with a bluff laugh before she could ask any of her questions. He tugged on her arm once more, drawing her up the last few steps to the keep doors.
"Aye, of course," Gerhard agreed quickly. "But I should explain--"
"No need, Lord d'Aumesbery can explain," Eachann interrupted, pulling the door open and urging Merry inside. He hustled her several steps forward, but then paused and they both stood blinking in an effort to make their eyes adjust to the sudden dearth of light. As with most castles, the great hall was much darker than it was out in the sunlight, and the sudden shift left them both briefly blinded. That being the case, Merry actually heard the occupants of the hall before she saw them. Raucous shouts and cheers assaulted her ears and drew her blinking gaze to a crowd of men gathered in a small, tight bunch.
"Is he among that group?" Eachann Stewart asked, glancing about for the man who had greeted them.
Gerhard nodded as he hurried to catch them up. "Aye, but--"
It was all her father needed to hear. Waving the man to silence, he again hurried Merry forward, this time steering her toward the group by the trestle tables.
Gerhard rushed after them. "But I should tell you that he is suf--Bollocks!"
Merry glanced over her shoulder to see that the man had tripped over something in the rushes. He stopped to pick up whatever it was, and then her attention was drawn forward again when her father suddenly drew her to a halt. They'd reached the edge of the group, and her father was now tapping the nearest man on the shoulder. The fellow, as large as a small building, turned a glare on them for interrupting whatever was going on, but quickly killed the glare when her father announced in a bluff voice, "I am Laird Stewart and this is me daughter, Merry, soon to be yer lady. Where is her betrothed, Alexander d'Aumesbery?"
The fellow's eyes widened, slid to her, and crinkled slightly as he smiled, but he didn't answer her father's question. Instead he turned to nudge the man next to him. Once he'd gained his attention, he whispered something in the fellow's ear, and that fellow peered around with surprise before nudging someone else. Within a moment every face in the crowd had turned to look at her. No one, however, was stepping forward and announcing that he was her betrothed.
Merry was just growing uncomfortable under their stares when Gerhard caught up.
r /> "Really, Lord Stewart, I should explain--" he tried again, but paused as a sudden roar of fury sounded from the center of the group of men before them. It was followed by shuffling and shifting as the men whirled back to whatever had held their attention earlier. Merry stood on her tiptoes, trying to see what was happening, but couldn't see a thing. Then Gerhard shifted past her and pushed his way through the crowd, Merry quickly following in his wake. When he paused, she stood up on tiptoes again to peer over his shoulder and this time was able to see what was happening. Two men were rolling about on the floor, a slender, smaller man attempting to defend himself as a larger man appeared to be trying to throttle him to death. The sight had apparently startled Gerhard to a halt, but only briefly; he was already moving forward, barking at the others, "I told you to hold him down, dammit!"
The rebuke had several men moving forward to help as Gerhard struggled to drag the one man off the other. It took a bit of effort, but eventually they were able to separate the two. Merry suspected it was only because the larger man had grown weary of the struggle, or perhaps he'd got over whatever it was that had made him attack the smaller fellow in the first place. It appeared to her that the larger man simply stopped fighting and allowed the others to pull him upright and away. The smaller man immediately scrambled out of reach and, shaking his head, Gerhard quickly stepped forward. He brushed down the larger man and straightened his clothes, saying, "Your betrothed is here."
Merry sucked in a breath as she realized that the man presently swaying in the grasp of the men still holding him upright was her betrothed. She was not the only one shocked. Alexander d'Aumesbery appeared absolutely appalled by them and gasped, "The Stewart Shrew? What the devil is she doing here?"
The men surrounding them all turned wide and even apologetic eyes her way, and Merry felt herself flush with embarrassment, but lifted her chin as Gerhard hissed, "She's right here, Alex, right in front of you."
He then urged his lord toward her, and Merry's eyes narrowed as she noted how unsteady her betrothed was on his feet. Gerhard was having to help him stay upright with the grasp he had on his upper arm.
"My lord, your betrothed, Lady Merewen Stewart," Gerhard introduced, drawing the other man to a halt before her. Or at least he tried to; while Gerhard's hold on his lord's arm should have stopped him, Alexander d'Aumesbery's feet were slower to get the message, so that he nearly walked right into Merry before the hold on his arm made him swing in a clumsy half circle. Gerhard immediately caught the man by both arms and turned him to stand before her like a naughty little boy. He then repeated grimly, "Lady Merewen Stewart."
Seeming oblivious of Gerhard's pained expression, Alex peered blearily at Merry, and then blew whiskey fumes all over her, saying, "Damn me. You're pretty. You don't look like a shrew."
There was a collective gasp of dismay from those around them, and Eachann Stewart actually drew himself up as if to say something, but Merry placed a hand on his arm and merely said in dry tones, "Thank you."
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."