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’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 fromhis face and squeezed his eyes closed once more. “I feel like hell.”
    “A pitcher of whiskey on an empty stomach first thing in the morn will do that to you.” The woman didn’t sound terribly sympathetic. “And you gave yourself a nice goose egg on your forehead when you fell on your face, too. I’m sure that’s not helping. Here, sit up and get this into you. It’ll help ease the pain.”
    “Fell on my face?” Alex growled, eyes popping open. His gaze landed on the wooden mug she was holding out and, after the briefest hesitation, he sat up to take it.
    “Aye,” she assured him. “Right at the feet of your betrothed, too. Made a fine first impression I’m sure. Drink it,” she added, sounding a bit impatient when he started to lower the mug full of vile-smelling liquid, his mouth opening on another question.
    Alex briefly considered reminding the woman of her place and that he was her lord, but knew from experience that neither reminder would impress her. It was hard to impress someone with your power and position when she’d changed your nappies as a babe. Grimacing, he didn’t even bother attempting to argue with the stubborn old woman, but quickly downed the drink. It tasted as bad as it smelled, of course. He wasn’t surprised. Bet’s medicinals had always been the most god-awful tasting brews, but they also usually worked damned well. He would have been grateful for her vile concoctions and less-than-tender mercies more than a time or two in Tunis.
    Managing to down the entire contents in two healthy swallows, Alex grimaced at the taste as hehanded the mug back and then growled, “What was that about my betrothed being here?”
    “She and her kin arrived just as Grefin was making his attempt to yank out your bad tooth,” Bet announced, and there was no mistaking the amusement on her wrinkled face.
    Alex ignored it for now, instead scowling as the fuzzy memory of the morning’s misery slid through his mind. Just poking at the tooth had caused agony, but the blacksmith’s clamping his pincers on it and trying to yank it from his jaw had been hell. The pain of it had been so shockingly fierce that Alex hadn’t, at first, even been able to find the breath to roar his agony. But then something had distracted the men holding him, and he’d managed to break free and grab Grefin by the throat to bring his torture to an end. The blacksmith had dropped his pincers and tried to back away, and the moment he wasn’t fiddling with his tooth, Alex had got his breath back and roared his fury as he’d followed the man, stumbling to his feet before the two of them had tumbled to the floor.
    He could only think it was a good thing he’d roared because that had caught his men’s attention and recalled them to their duty. It was probably the only thing that had saved Grefin a good thrashing. Alex also decided it had been a good thing Grefin had insisted on their waiting half an hour for the whiskey he’d downed to take effect before making the attempt. If there was a worse pain than that he’d suffered while numbed by whiskey, Alex had no desire to experience it. Honestly, he’d taken sword wounds in Tunis that had hurt less.
    The thought made him search around inside his mouth for the tooth in question. Relief slid through him when he felt a hole where the tooth had once been.
    “He got the tooth out once you were in your bed,” Bet announced. “Grefin said it was much easier to yank out when you weren’t fighting him. It only took him a moment once you were unconscious.”
    Alex grimaced at the claim and shook his head. Those vague memories of Grefin’s struggling to remove his tooth down in the great hall and then his attacking