Taming the Highland Bride (8 page)

Alex again woke to a pounding head. He moaned, squeezed his eyes tightly closed, and rolled onto his side to try to bury his head beneath the pillow. He was so groggy that it took a moment for him to realize that what he was trying to bury himself under wasn’t a pillow. Eyes blinking open with confusion, he then had to push the linens and furs away so that he could see that he had his hand clasped over one of his new bride’s rather generous breasts. The realization brought him immediately awake and—once awake—he recognized that the pounding wasn’t only in his head. It was coming from somewhere behind him as well.

Rolling onto his back, Alex peered toward the door as his brain slowly puzzled together that there was someone knocking at it. He scowled at the door and then swung his eyes back to his bride to see that the racket hadn’t even made her stir. The woman was pale, shadows under her eyes and dead to the world. It didn’t look to him like she was likely to wake up for anything anytime soon.

The pounding at the door became a little louder and more insistent, drawing his attention once
more. Alex stared at it with disinterest for a minute, but when his brain finally pieced together that the pounding would not stop until he answered the door, he rolled out of bed and stumbled over to open it.

“There ye are!” Laird Stewart said cheerfully, and far too loudly, the moment the door was open. “We were beginning to think the two o’ ye had slipped out while we werena looking.”

Alex had a terrible urge to punch the man, but it seemed like a lot of effort so he merely growled, “What do you want?”

“The bed linens, lad,” Eachann said, as if it should be the most obvious answer in the world.

Alex was just scowling over that and trying to sort out why they would want his bed linens when Edda drew his attention to the fact that the man wasn’t alone by saying gently, “For proof the marriage was consummated.”

Alex blinked, absently noting that the priest and Merry’s brothers were there as well, but most of his brain was processing the bit about proof of consummation. The bed linens. Proof. Blood from the breaching of her maiden’s veil, his mind put together, and he whirled to peer at the bed. Merry had burrowed back under the furs and linens again like a mole seeking darkness, and he was not at all sure she was yet awake. But that didn’t concern him as much as the fact that he had absolutely no recollection of whether he’d consummated the wedding. In fact, he didn’t even recall making his way up here to bed last night, which was troubling since he should. While his plan to abstain from alcohol last night
had been forced off path by his father-in-law’s claim that to not drink to a toast would be an insult on the whole clan, Alex had allowed them only to pour a small amount of whiskey in his mug before covering it with his hand. He had sipped that small amount slowly through the rest of the night, and it surely shouldn’t have been enough to affect him as it had.

Unless his father-in-law had been topping up his mug when he was distracted, Alex thought suddenly, and was sure that must be the case. It seemed the only explanation for the state he’d been in last night.

“Ye
were
able to manage it, were ye no’?” Eachann Stewart asked with a sudden glower. “Ye were in rough shape last night and—” He paused abruptly and glanced to his sons when Brodie suddenly elbowed him. The younger man whispered something that made the older man’s eyebrows rise, and then he turned back, his gaze honing in on Alex’s groin. “Hmm, it appears ye managed all right after all.”

Alex glanced down to himself, his own eyebrows rising as he saw the dried blood on his semi-erect staff. It did indeed appear he’d managed the deed, he thought with relief, and then found himself nudged to the side as the Stewart men pushed their way into the room, with Edda and the priest on their heels. It seemed they were impatient to get the deed over with. However, the sight of Merry sound asleep in the center of the bed brought them up short.

“How the devil did she sleep through the knocking?” Brodie asked with amazement as the small group came to a halt at the edge of the bed.

Eachann scowled at the sight, a tinge of concern on his face, but merely glanced to Alex and said, “Wore her out, did ye? Well, ye’ll just have to move her out o’ the way so we can retrieve the linen. We’ll get out o’ yer hair the moment we have it,” he added.

Alex shook his head and moved around them to the side of the bed. If he hadn’t managed the bedding last night, he’d send them all from the room and do it now. If he had…Well, frankly, he’d be grateful because he didn’t think he could manage the task with his head as sore as it was.

“Merry?” he said softly, shaking her arm. When that gained no response, he shook her a little more insistently. “Merry, girl. Wake up. Your father and the others are here.”

Much to his relief, she woke enough to grumble in her sleep and slap at his hand as if at a bee buzzing about her before snuggling back into the bed again and apparently drifting back to sleep.

Shrugging inwardly, Alex gave up on waking her and simply scooped her into his arms, taking the top linen at the same time. He carried her to the foot of the bed and out of the way, so distracted making sure the linen covered her decently that it took him a moment to notice the sudden silence in the room. Raising his head, he peered to the horrified faces of the group around the bed and then glanced toward the bed itself.

Alex immediately sucked in a breath of dismay, his eyes widening in horror as he took in the bloodstain that covered a good portion of the center of the linen.

“Dear God, what the devil did ye do to me daugh
ter?” Eachann Stewart breathed with dismay and the beginnings of anger. He then rushed forward to grab Merry’s face and turned it toward him. “Merry? Merry, are ye alive girl?”

Merry blinked her eyes open, scowled, and brushed irritably at her father’s hands with a grumpy, “Leave off.”

Her father didn’t seem to mind, but breathed out a relieved “She’s alive.”

“Of course she’s alive,” Alex snapped, a bit affronted that they might think otherwise, but then his gaze landed on the bed again and his irritation left him, replaced by shame and worry. He must have been incredibly rough with her to have made her bleed like that. He might even have done serious damage. It was a sickening thought. Alex had never in his life been rough with a woman, and the thought that he might have been on his wedding night, and to the warm, sweet-smelling woman in his arms, was actually nauseating.

Suddenly furious, he glared at the silent people staring so accusingly at him and growled, “Take the linen and get out.”

A moment of silence passed, and then Father Gibbon began to strip the bottom linen from the bed. Edda immediately hurried forward to help, and then the group began to move out of the room with the proof of his abusive treatment of his wife. He couldn’t help but notice that they were moving extremely slowly, as if reluctant to leave Merry alone with him, and that just made the shame in Alex swell and grow. He was relieved when the door finally closed behind them, but not much. The image
of the blood-soaked linen was burned into his brain, and he peered down at Merry with regret and self-loathing.

She was a beautiful woman, sweet in sleep, with none of the frustration, anger, disapproval, and unhappiness that made up her expressions when she was awake. At that moment, it was his dearest wish that Merry always look as peaceful and tranquil as she did right then, that he somehow could soothe her wounded soul and make her happy. Unfortunately, he apparently hadn’t made a good start on that last night. But he would make it up to her, Alex vowed silently. He would touch her only with the gentlest of intentions. He would never even speak a harsh word, and he would woo her, teach her to trust him, and make her forget their wedding night and the pain and misery he must have put her through.

Merry shifted sleepily in his arms, turning her head into his chest and exhaling against the naked skin there.

Despite his pounding head, Alex felt his body respond to the caress of breath against his skin and decided if he wished to keep those vows he’d just made to himself, he might do better to keep a little distance between them for a while. At least until she was healed and had forgiven him for their wedding night.

Moving back to the bed, he gently set her back in it, taking the time to cover her properly with both the linens and the furs on the bed. He then straightened and forced himself away from the bed to finish donning his clothes, his mind moving on to how his plans had changed yet again. The intention had
been for him, Merry, and a dozen men to leave today along with her father and brothers and their men for the journey north into Scotland. They would have ridden with the Stewart party most of the way and then split the last day, with their own party continuing on to Donnachaidh while the Stewarts continued home.

That was out of the question now. He could hardly make Merry travel today. The amount of blood on the linen suggested he might have to give her several days to heal from his rough treatment, maybe even as much as a week before setting out for Scotland to check on his sister.

Guilt squeezed him at the realization that his sister, Evelinde, might be suffering mightily and would continue to suffer a week longer than necessary because of his own behavior, but he was already so soaked in shame and guilt it made little difference. Finished dressing, Alex scrubbed his hands wearily over his face and then cast one last glance toward the woman in his bed before making his way to the door. He would make it all up to her.

T
he bed was empty when Merry woke up. She sat up and glanced sleepily around the room in search of her husband, but he was gone. Tossing aside the linens covering her, she started to slip her feet off the bed when a sudden sharp tug of pain from her right thigh reminded her of the night’s events. It made her glance down, and Merry noted with surprise that the bottom linen of the bed was gone. She then turned her attention to her leg and saw that her thoughtless movement had started the larger cut on her inner thigh oozing blood again. Judging by the smeared bloodstain on her leg, it wasn’t the first time.

Grimacing, she eased more carefully from the bed and stood to move to the basin of cold water on a small table by the window. Merry quickly washed, cleaning up the blood on her inner thighs last, and then pressed the bit of damp cloth against the wound until the bleeding stopped again. Her gaze slid back to the bed as she held the cloth there, and she found herself wondering how they’d managed to retrieve the bottom linen without waking her. She was still puzzling over it as she finished at the basin and moved to find a fresh gown to wear that day.

Merry had just pulled on a chemise and gown and was doing up the laces of the gown when her door eased open a crack and she saw Una’s head poke in.

“Oh good! Ye’re up,” the maid said sounding relieved. She then pushed the door open farther and stepped in and to the side to make room for the servants who followed her.

Merry paused as two men carried in the bath she’d used the night before. They were followed by several servants carrying pails of water. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to refuse the bath, but in the next moment closed it again, the words unspoken. She was unwilling to send the servants away after they’d gone to all the trouble of hauling it above stairs for her. Supposing she’d just have to bathe again, Merry bit back her words and moved to one of the chairs by the fire to watch Una direct the servants. She was relieved when it was done and offered a quiet thank you as the servants then filed out, leaving only her maid behind.

Merry waited until Una had closed the door on
the last one before giving in to her curiosity and asking, “Who ordered the bath?”

“Yer husband was the first to order it,” Una answered as she turned back from the door.

Merry’s eyebrows rose slightly at the maid’s grim voice and expression, but she merely asked, “The first?”

“Aye, he asked me in the hall outside the room when he came out. He said to let ye sleep and fetch ye a bath when ye woke. And then Lady Edda stopped me at the bottom of the stairs and suggested ye may want one when ye woke. She was followed by yer father, who approached me when I sat down to break me fast and made the same suggestion, and then finally Brodie came to me as I headed above stairs to check on ye some time ago and suggested it as well.”

Merry’s eyes were wide by the time the woman finished. It seemed everyone had thought she’d need to bathe this morning. She had no idea why. All she’d done was sleep since her last bath.

“I had no idea why everyone was so all-fired certain ye’d need a bath,” Una said, echoing her thoughts. “Until I saw the linen hanging from the stair railing.”

Merry gave a slight start at the hardness that had entered the maid’s voice. She now noted the pity filling her face and bit her lip with worry as she wondered if she had not put enough blood on the cloth. “What is wrong with the linen?”

“What is wrong with it?” the maid gasped. “Why, ’tis covered in blood.”

Merry waved that away with unconcern. “Well,
’tis expected. He was to break my maiden’s veil last eve.”

“Break it, aye, but to cause so much blood he must have done more than that. The maun must ha’e been an animal. I was surprised to open the door and find ye standing this morn. Does it hurt to walk?”

Actually, it did, she acknowledged to herself, but only because of the tender cuts on her thighs, not for the reason Una thought. Frowning, she asked, “Was there too much blood then?”

“Aye,” she assured her firmly. “’Tis normally just a bit of it.”

Merry clucked irritably at this news as she began to strip her gown back off. “I wish ye’d told me so ere last night. That means I needn’t have cut meself the second time at all.”

“Cut yerself? Ye mean ’tis no’ from the bedding?”

“My husband was so drunk he knocked himself out almost the minute everyone left the room,” Merry said dryly, her voice muffled as she pulled the gown over her face. “He couldna bed anyone. But I kenned everyone would expect we consummate and be looking for the linen in the morning to prove it, so I cut meself and smeared the blood on the linen.” She got the gown off and tossed it across the nearest chest with an irritated grimace. “I wasna sure how much blood there should be, but the first cut seemed to produce little, so I cut meself again. Only the second cut was deeper than I’d intended and bled quite freely.”

Merry had tugged off her chemise as she spoke and now tossed it after the gown before turning to
see Una’s expression. The woman looked partly horrified at this news, partly admiring, and mostly like she was fighting to keep from laughing. Merry supposed it would be funny if she weren’t still suffering a sore thigh from her efforts.

“What did yer husband say about it?” the maid asked finally, managing to stifle her amusement.

Merry shrugged. “Nothing. He was unconscious, as I said.”

Una waved that away. “But what did he say this morn when he saw it?”

Merry didn’t have any recollection at all of being woken and roused from her bed this morn, but she must have been for them to have taken the linen, she reasoned.

“I’m no’ sure,” she confessed unhappily. “I doona really recall waking this morning until just now.”

Una pondered that briefly and then suggested, “Mayhap ye didna. Mayhap he just scooped ye up off the bed so they could take the linen and then set ye back to continue yer sleep.”

Merry’s eyebrows rose at the suggestion. She supposed that was most likely what had happened, else she’d have some memory of what had occurred, at least a sleepy, fuzzy one. However, it suggested a thoughtfulness and kindness on the part of her husband that she didn’t generally equate with drunks. Their actions were usually selfish and thoughtless. At least they seemed to her to be. Although her own father and brothers had occasionally displayed a sweetness when sober that caught her by surprise.

Shrugging the matter away, she moved to the tub and leaned down to test the water. Finding it satis
factory, Merry then stepped carefully over the edge, grimacing as lifting her leg pulled on the wound again. Knowing the perfumed water was likely to sting the cut, Merry sucked in a breath and tried to steel herself against it, but still gasped in another breath as she settled to sit in the tub and the water covered her thighs. The pain was even worse than she’d feared, and she ground her teeth together and closed her eyes against the tears gathering there as she waited for it to pass.

Merry’s eyes popped open again, however, when Una clucked with concern next to her.

“What did ye do to yerself, lass? There’s blood in the water. Stand up.”

Merry glanced down to see that there was indeed blood drifting through the water and it was coming from her right thigh. Grimacing, she stood up and let Una look at the wound.

“Dear God, what were ye trying to do? Cut off yer leg?”

“’Tis not that bad,” Merry responded a bit irritably, for truly it did hurt and standing up had hurt, but sitting back down for the water to cover it again was going to hurt even more. Besides, she hadn’t meant to cut so deeply, but the deed was done now, and she felt foolish enough knowing she hadn’t needed to cut herself a second time at all.

Shaking her head, the maid straightened and gestured for her to continue with her bath.

Merry settled back in the tub, grinding her teeth against the return of pain as the water closed over her.

Una watched silently for a minute and then com
mented, “I wonder what he thought when he saw the blood this morn. Does he think he consummated the wedding? Or does he ken he didn’t and has worked out that ye produced the blood for the linen?”

“I doona ken,” Merry said as the pain finally began to ease.

“I think he thinks he consummated,” Una decided. “He certainly looked guilt-riddled when he ordered me to let ye sleep and prepare a bath for when ye woke.”

Merry felt a moment’s guilt of her own at this possibility, but then shrugged. “Well, ’tis fine. Then mayhap he’ll blame it on the drink and not drink so deeply ere he does try to bed me.”

Una grunted at the suggestion and said, tightlipped, “I wasna keen on the idea o’ moving to England in the first place, but I damned near dragged ye out o’ the keep and back to the horses when we saw the state of the man ye were to marry. ’Tis hard to believe that God and the fates could be so cruel as to take ye from yer whiskey-soaked father and hand ye ower to a whiskey-soaked husband.”

“Aye,” Merry said unhappily.

“The only thing we can hope fer is that fate has a plan and the man will do ye the favor o’ gettin’ hisself killed quick so ye can find some peace.”

It was nothing more than Merry had thought last night, but hearing it from her maid made it sound terribly cold and heartless. She squirmed in her bath, ashamed of herself.

“We shall just have to make the best o’ it,” Merry murmured, and then added, “Lady Edda seems nice.”

“Humph,” Una muttered, drawing her curious glance. The maid had picked up her gown and was shaking it out to set down more carefully so that it would not wrinkle.

“Has Lady Edda been unkind to you?” she asked with a small frown.

“Oh, nay,” Una assured her, but then pursed her lips briefly, her eyes thoughtful before she said, “’Tis jest there is something wrong there.”

“With Lady Edda?” Merry asked slowly. In her experience, women were saints and men sinners. It seemed to her that such was the case here as well. Edda was sweet and kind and Alexander was a drunken fool. It seemed much as it had been at home with her own mother and the male members of the family.

“Nay, no’ with Lady Edda exactly,” Una said carefully, and then admitted, “I am no’ sure. She seems fine and has been kind to ye, but the servants act a little queer about her.”

Merry’s eyebrows rose. “Queer how?”

Una hesitated and then said, “They go all quiet and watchful when she is about…and the old woman, Bet, seems to hate her though she’ll no’ say why.”

Merry considered this and then asked, “Have the servants said anything to ye?”

“Oh, nay.” She waved the very idea away. “I’m new here. They’ll no’ say aught until they’re sure they can trust me. ’Tis jest a feeling I get. Something isna right.”

Merry considered that briefly, but Una was prone to “feelings” that were often wrong. For instance,
during her mother’s last illness, the maid had assured her she had a “feeling” her mother would recover. Instead she’d died. And while Una had fussed about leaving Scotland and living in a foreign land full of Englishmen, she’d also had a “feeling” when they had set out that the future was much brighter here for Merry. That she would be happier with her husband than she’d ever been at Stewart. Considering what they’d found here, that “feeling” had obviously been wrong as well.

Shaking Una and her “feelings” out of her thoughts, Merry decided to judge Lady Edda on how she treated her. So far the woman had been kind and even sweet. Therefore, she would consider her a friend.

Merry was quick about the unneeded bath, and the water was still hot when she decided it was enough and stood up. She quickly dried herself off with the linen Una handed her, and then stood patiently as the maid fussed over the cuts she’d given herself. Merry then donned her clothes, fidgeted impatiently while Una tended to her hair, and then burst from her room like a horse charging from a burning stable and made her way below, walking a bit oddly in an effort not to rip open her wound again.

Late as it was, Merry had expected the great hall to be empty, but instead found her father, brothers, and Lady Edda still seated there, their heads close together as they conversed in quiet voices. Curious at the solemn expressions they wore and the stiff tension in their bodies, she headed to the table. The foursome were so wrapped up in their discussion
that she had nearly reached them before anyone noticed her. The moment they did, however, their conversation came to an abrupt halt and they all sat up and turned to offer her bright smiles that were patently false.

“Good morn, Merry lass,” her father greeted, standing to walk the few feet to greet her. Much to her amazement the old man actually gave her a quick, hard hug and then took her hands to lead her back to the table. Her brothers were on their feet as well, she saw, showing a courtesy she’d never before seen, and Brodie even moved out of the chair that belonged to the lady of the house for her to sit. She was made suspicious by all this fuss. Nevertheless, Merry allowed herself to be steered into her seat and then glanced around as they all started to talk at once, wishing her good morning and saying they hoped she’d slept well.

Merry murmured a general good morning in return and assured them yes, she had slept well. She then paused and sat back as a young maid rushed from the kitchens with some mead and a pasty for her and asked if she would care for anything else.

“Nay. Thank ye,” Merry murmured, and watched the girl nod and curtsy and then hurry back to the kitchens before turning curiously in her seat to see what had kept the girl glancing wide-eyed behind and above her as she’d set down her offerings and asked if she would care for anything else. The only thing behind and above her was the linen hanging from the stair rail for all to see, and Merry grimaced as she noted the dried blood on the sheet. There
really was a lot of it, even more than there had been when she’d gone to sleep. Obviously her wound had opened up again and added to the stain she’d made before lying down last night. But then she’d already figured that out when she saw the dried blood on her legs this morning.

Shaking her head, Merry turned back to the table, her eyebrows lifting when she saw the expressions on the faces of the others. They, too, had turned to peer at the linen, and while Edda was glowering with displeasure, her father and brothers looked absolutely furious.