Taming the Highland Bride

  Still, Merry hesitated, her gaze sliding to his face to be sure he was still unconscious before she reached out and brushed her fingers tentatively down the shaft. It was solid, but the skin felt velvety soft under her fingertips. Fascinated, Merry ran her fingers over it again and then took it curiously in hand and closed her fingers around it, measuring its girth and length and moving it about to see just how far it would bend to one side and then the other.

  A sudden groan from Alex made her still, her fingers unintentionally tightening on the erection. In the next moment, the chicken neck jerked in her hand, and she glanced to it with surprise as it suddenly began to spit some sort of liquid out of the top. Merry released it at once and stood up. The first thought to flash through her mind was that she'd broken it, but she wasn't sure if she'd broken it or if that was supposed to happen. However, she was pretty sure she'd just ruined any possibility of consummating the wedding since it was finally beginning to deflate before her eyes.

  Cursing, Merry turned away and paced to the foot of the bed and then back, her mind working. Edda had said that he would probably kiss her, squeeze her breasts, and then, when excited, thrust his chicken neck into her. She supposed that hard state had been his being excited. Perhaps she could excite him again.

  That thought gave her hope and she moved back to the bed to peer at his now sadly shriveled chicken neck, but Merry really had no idea how to go about "exciting" a man. She'd seen maids on their knees in dark corners at Stewart Castle, doing things to the men there that seemed to make them groan and moan as Alex had done before exploding, but wasn't sure exactly what it was they did. She supposed it was something that felt good and tried to think of things that felt good to her. Her maid brushing her hair before the fire was nice, though that was more a relaxing sensation than an exciting one. Rubbing her feet when they were sore was also nice, but again relaxing.

  Obviously she was approaching the problem from the wrong direction, Merry decided, and asked herself what excited her father and brothers. The only thing that came to mind was whiskey, but she hardly thought pouring a mug of whiskey over the man's parts was going to get them working.

  Merry poked at his chicken neck again and then glared at it with irritation. Truly, she hadn't a clue what to do here, yet she needed to somehow get it excited and stiff and then mount it to break her maiden's veil to produce the blood.

  Or, Merry thought suddenly, she could just cut herself to get the blood, spread it on the bed linen, and pretend he'd done the deed. That thought lifted her spirits at once. It would ensure she didn't have to marry again did the man have the good grace to drop dead on her tonight, and might save her having to worry about his wishing to trouble her in their bed for a while. She had no idea how frequently men liked to bed their wives, but her father never seemed to bother the maids and village women back home much. Of course, he was older, but even Brodie and Gawain did not seem to trouble the women much. Mayhap once a month was her guess, but then she did tend to send the servants away when the three men were drinking, and they did do that often.

  That didn't really matter to her anyway, Merry decided. She was more concerned with securing her place as lady here so she couldn't be married off to some other drunken lout should the man die tonight, or stumble down the stairs and break his neck in the morning. Did she cut herself, rub a bit of blood on the bed linen, and give it to them to hang above the stairs on the morrow, then her place as Lady d'Aumesbery would be secure whether the man survived the night or not.

  Satisfied with the idea, Merry slid back out of bed and moved to her chest to retrieve her sgian-dubh from where Una had put it away earlier. She carried it back to the bed with her, tugged the linens to the bottom of the bed so that they were out of the way, and climbed in next to her husband. She then settled cross-legged and hesitated as she considered where she should cut herself. Her first choice was her hand, but that would be easily seen, and someone might notice and wonder about it.

  She peered over her body considering likely spots. Somewhere that was covered by her gown was her best bet. Her eyes settled on her legs, and she peered at them solemnly for a moment and then pressed the knife to her left inner thigh and hesitated again. Merry wasn't a coward, but truly, deliberately hurting herself wasn't an attractive idea. It had to be done, however.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she held it and then quickly drew her knife across her skin, gasping in pain as the knife sliced a shallow wound in the tender skin. Blood immediately beaded to the surface of the cut, and Merry caught it up on her fingers and brushed it over the bottom linen of the bed. She did it a few more times before the shallow wound clotted and the blood stopped coming.

  Merry peered at the bed linen then, considering the small dark smudges on the clean cloth. It didn't look like much, and she grimaced at the timidity that had made her hold back and cut herself so shallowly. Still, it might be enough. The problem was, she wasn't sure. How much blood did breaching the maiden veil cause? Edda hadn't described that, and Merry hadn't thought to ask. She shifted impatiently on the bed, worried that too little blood might give her away.

  Her gaze then slid to his chicken neck, and she bit her lip at its clean state. Surely if he'd breached the maiden's veil and made her bleed there would be blood on him as well. There was blood on a knife when it was used to stab someone.

  Merry clucked with irritation at this reasoning. There seemed little else for it but that she would have to cut herself again. It seemed to her that it would be better to have too much blood than too little, and she definitely thought she should put some on him. Tightening her hand around her sgian-dubh again, she pressed it to her right inner thigh this time, closed her eyes, and quickly, sharply sliced herself again. This time, she didn't merely gasp at the pain, but had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out, and the blood didn't trickle forth to bead on the wound but began to gush out. She'd definitely cut deeper this time, more deeply than she'd intended.

  Ah well, at least she'd probably have enough now, Merry told herself, and shifted so that she was in the center of the bed. Her hip rubbed up against Alex, and it reminded her to rub some on his shaft, but once that was done, she ignored him and concentrated on using her fingers to spread the blood about as it ran down her inner thigh and onto the bottom linen. She continued to do so until the blood finally stopped running. Truly, the wound bled an awfully long time, and Merry was growing concerned by the time it stopped. She even considered wrapping the wound, but feared moving about to find something to bind it with might start it bleeding again so merely lay back in bed, pulled the upper linen over herself, and tried to go to sleep.

  Unfortunately, while she wanted to sleep, she didn't seem to be able to relax enough to do so. Merry tried everything she could think of to relax herself enough to manage it, but nothing seemed to work, and eventually she gave it up and simply lay their thinking about her life, past and present, and the bleak future that appeared to lie before her.

  It was near dawn before she finally felt sleep overtaking her, and Merry greeted it with a small relieved breath and the hope that the morrow would be a better day.

  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 loo
k 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 daughter?" 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 s
ister, 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.

  chapter Four

  The 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.