Taming the Highland Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

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 presentlynarrowed 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