Page 125 of Outlaw Ever After

Jossy’s surprised silence bored into his back.

“Ye collapsed, sweeting,” he gruffed, as he cupped her cheek, doing his damnedest to master his tremor. “Jossy’s here.”

“I-I nay understand,” she said, but he stormed out, drew shut the door, then pressed his forehead to it and closed his eyes.

His jaw pumped. Francine approached and slipped through. He fought for a glimpse within. But even though Peigi was sitting upright again, sipping her infusion, no relief coursed through him. Each time she seemed well, she relapsed, until a sob tore from his songbird’s throat. “But I… There was so much blood. They said I lost everything .”

He snarled. “Blood ?”

“Nay, dear lass—”

He blazed back through the door, interrupting Jossy.

Shock propelled his legs despite her scolding glare. What in God’s name had Peigi just said? He’d move a mountain to stanch such a wound that dared to afflict her so—

“The nuns, though well-meaning, were wrong,” Jossy continued. Wrong about what? He searched Peigi for blood. What blood? Joslyn’s face peered up at him again even if her words were meant for Peigi. “Ye nay miscarried as the abbess thought.”

Confounded woman! She was smiling now as Peigi sat crisscrossed like that wood nymph he’d once fallen for. In nothing but her chemise, her hand cupped over her mouth to hold back another cry.

Wait… “Nay miscarried ?”

Joslyn shook her head as if to lament confounded man , but smiled proudly all the same.

Peigi looked down at her stomach and her hand migrated there as…a smile showed through the anguish.

Had her sob been joyous and nay sorrowful?

“What’s happening,” he croaked, kneeling beside Peigi and snagging up one of her hands.

He brought it in his fists to his lips.

“Tell me, woman, for I nay think I can hold me heart in me chest much longer—”

“I carry yer babe,” Peigi whispered, cupping his desperate face, her touch a blessing.

The air in his lungs froze. My babe. The weight of those words didn’t sink in. They hung in the air.

His eyes locked on hers. Then dropped to her belly. “Ye carry our bairn.”

She nodded. “It’s nay been an easy carriage thus far, but Jossy assures me there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“’Tis strongly rooted.” Jossy beamed. “It’s been nigh three months, and I suspect the worst is nearly over.”

“Morning sickness,” Peigi added, nodding at him as if trying to make him understand. “’Tis why so many foods turned my stomach and I canna eat and thus lose my strength.”

“A foolish name for a sickness when ye’re sick with it night and day,” he grumbled, and she laughed.

“Are ye to be a worrisome husband?”

He’d rooted a babe within her. The back of his nose tingled. His eyes pricked—she’d been to hell these past few months. She’d weathered that horrible storm alone.

“I am weel,” she assured him, biting her lip at his enduring silence. Her gaze bounced away. “Un-unless this displeases ye? I thought that we, that ye—”

He swept her off the bed, fanning her chemise around in his arms as she banded her arms around his neck, before dropping down to his knees and grasping her hips, planting his lips to her belly. Resting his forehead against the figment of a life they’d created, as the hearth popped and crackled.

“I was nay there for ye,” he croaked.

She sifted her fingers into his hair, as his forehead pressed more firmly against her womb, as if to feel it all. He lifted his head and stared up at the woman he wanted to worship for the remainder of his days.