Page 29 of Outlaw Ever After

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And the next day, true to his word, a missive was wedged against a rock! She hurried to it and dropped to her knees, pulling it open and bringing the forget-me-not tied in green ribbon to her nose on a smile, reading that… He would be here on the morrow?

Her heart sank. Her thumb twisted her ring. Nay, he had official business. She could understand. It wasn’t as if he’d left her without word, or worse, left her . She wandered back to the faire and trifled with her wee niece, trying to quash her worry, when a strawberry blond beard and sharp green eyes caught her attention. Stern, stoic, and focused, Alexander seemed as if on watch duty, fixated on a cluster of lairds in discussions. She bounced her wee niece upon her knee, unable to take her eyes off him, when his gaze flitted to her and a brief smile creased his lips.

On the morrow, songbird, he mouthed.

He’d known she was there all along. Her troubled conscience eased, and she smiled back.

Except when she hurried back the day after, once more, their greenwood was empty. Waiting. Fretting, she paced, twisting her ring—

Emergency bells from the castle began to toll.

“Fire!” People ran, shouting.

She hurried back to the fair, abandoning the trees to see sickly smoke rising in the distance.

“Fire! Fire!”

“The MacLeod’s crop winnings are burning! They’ll set the trees ablaze!”

Peigi crossed herself. A fire could ruin them all!

People ran to the fray. MacLeod tartan dotted through the crowd. And there, atop a proud Frisian, was Alexander at his laird’s side, thundering through the encampments toward the smoke. Children turned around or cried, disoriented.

Peigi snapped into action.

“Come, darlings, to the castle. Come now.” One by one, she gathered children, hurrying them out of the chaos, toward Lady Rose who was ushering folks inside for safety.

Atop Kilravock Castle, she and Lady Rose congregated the bairns, consoling, distracting. As the hour grew late and the smoke from the finally-banked fire choked the air, children slept or diverted themselves with hazard dice, draughts, or toys Lady Rose brought above stairs. Peigi moved to an embrasure and searched for her plain-kilted rogue—

“Peigi?”

She turned to see Kendrew MacGregor, soot stained, peering up the hatchway to the tower.

“Ye look as if ye’re searching for someone.”

“I’m merely worried.” Not a lie. Not at all the truth, either. “What are ye doing here?”

“I came in search of Laird Rose.”

“He is down there with the others, fighting the flame,” Lady Rose said from across the turret. “What be yer business?”

“I came to inform him that the MacLeods are riding out early. He asked me, as the brother of the advisor to the Earl of Arran, to keep sight on Tormund.”

Her stomach knotted and the flower in her hand she’d been idly twisting dropped. “The MacLeods are leaving?”

He nodded, brow furrowing. And bent to retrieve her forget-me-not. “Are ye all right? Ye’ve gone so pale. Wish me to fetch Seamus?”

She smoothed her skirts and shook her head.

He frowned. “Warmongers, the lot of them. The Earl of Arran wants to subdue the unruly highlanders. I hear he wants to create peace talks and looks to hire in their loyalty.”

He pointed to the far horizon, and from this vantage, she could just make out the sea of MacLeod yellow cantering down the distant high road into Glen Alban. And one black Frisian among the entourage.

She swallowed the bile rolling up her throat. MacGregor shook his head and looked around. “I shall find Laird Rose. Ye sure ye’re all right?”

She nodded, and he bowed his head. Made no mention of her snubbing his suit as he left. As order settled once more over the encampment, Peigi hurried back to her secluded woods in the moonlight shining through the boughs, surrounded by silence.