Page 106 of Outlaw Ever After

“Ye should have seen it!” bragged Ross to anyone who’d listen. “’Twas a forgotten fruit grove down yonder! With pears !” Pears? A treat in these northern parts! “And damson fruits! And I dare say we ate our fill of the fallen mast whilst Laird Ross and Sir Alexander loaded the beast!” An orchard? Where had Peigi heard of that? “ Enormous , he was! A seasoned stag! And Sir Alexander’s prowess after Sir Maxwell spotted him? Leapt clean out of nowhere and drove the herd straight toward Maxwell’s waiting arrow!”

So why didn’t Kendrew MacGregor seem pleased? He’d won alongside the others. Yet his expression was dour. She prickled, unable to place her unease.

“Maxwell pulled back his arrow and loosed it straight and true!”

“’Twas a beautiful shot if I say so myself,” boasted Maxwell, lifting his tankard.

“ Ye won that hunt, Sir Alexander.” She poked his chest.

He shrugged again but surreptitiously pulled her beside the courtyard wall out of sight. He moved in front of her to shield her from view.

She eyed his quiet look. Quiet? He was never short on words. Except he seemed to be relishing the attention Ross was lavishing on Maxwell. It was as if the hunt had worked out exactly to his liking. Which meant he’d been a puppeteer , nay a playactor, pulling the strings. He’d known about the hidden fruit grove.

Eyes twinkling, he teased, “Maxwell is a shite aim and I ,” he slipped a protective palm upon her belly as if he didn’t want to let go, leaning into her against the stone balustrade, “couldna risk losing. I helped him out.”

Her stomach growled.

“Ye should eat,” he scolded as his beard tickled her forehead. “Ye should rest tonight, instead of making soul cakes with the kitchen maids, aye?” Concern leveled in his eyes as he tilted his head to get a better view of her face.

Peigi looked around for Seamus, avoiding his probing stare. After last night, would Seamus allow her to go souling on the morrow? Was he perchance in his solar, ever-poring over his ledgers and parchments?

“I must, Alex. I promised. I’ve made a vow to these people. How will they ever trust me if I fall short of my promises?”

His jaw hardened at that. Sakes, she hadn’t meant it as a slight, and yet, she pulled away, distress niggling more than her hunger. She had to find Seamus—

His hand upon her stomach caged her to him as he bit out, “Then I will escort ye.”

“Seamus might watch me closely, though. He’d object.”

“Seamus is nay even here,” he said. “Left before first light.”

So he’d left before breaking his fast? “Where is he?”

Alex shrugged. “He looked fit to travel overland when he rode out.”

Her face paled. “To Edinburgh…”

His brow furrowed. “So soon? I gave him a reprieve until the end of the tourney.”

“Ye did? Why?”

He chewed his cheek harder and toyed with her hair, that uncharacteristic quiet look settling in his gaze again as his brow furrowed. “So as nay to ruin yer marriage. This dowry would have been stripped from ye, right in the middle of this tourney, for he is in arrears to the Crown. He begged me.”

And he was ensuring she retained it. Even if he didn’t win. His home and his birthright. If he truly is who I think he is.

She shook her head, the pang in her heart too achy to swallow. He would give it up for her. While Seamus was bent on riding to Edinburgh for reinforcements against him, thinking him an outlaw he’d long ago hunted when lads played games of men, too young to understand the consequences of their anger . Jossy’s words in the gallery rang true. Those bairns who’d suffered the brunt of fighting grew into the women who were frightened of it, and into men who fought the same games to survive because in sooth, they, too, were frightened.

God, her stubborn brother! She yanked away from Alex and marched up the courtyard stairs. She hurried across the courtyard.

“Peigi, wait…” Alex’s voice hastened behind her.

“Sir Alexander! Come drink with us!” Maxwell boomed, and as she glanced back, she saw Laird Ross waylaying Alex with an arm slung around his neck and a tankard thrust into his hand.

He eyed her with frustration as she dipped through the door and traversed the quiet great hall, stepping over the uneven paver she’d watched countless folk trip on. Her brother should have repaired that with all his loans.

She pattered upward, passing the tapestries and causing them to waver, idyllic country scenes, a boy reaping corn with a long scythe in the field, a rustic wedding…

She slowed.