Page 68 of Outlaw Ever After

“To keep it from being damaged again, of course,” Peigi said dismissively, fingers curling around the familiar scrolls and volutes. “I’ve been busy.”

“And unwell,” Elizabeth said. “Seamus worried for her illness after Lughnasadh.”

No… Elizabeth had gone and done it, now, with her uncorkable penchant for gossip. Aileana crinkled her brow and sat beside her, resting a careful hand upon her arm—Peigi closed her eyes and braced herself.

“Peigi? What illness?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” Peigi smiled, forcing the strain from it.

“Seamus never wrote a word to me. Nor did ye. We’ve always told each other everything. I would have come to help ye. What ailed ye?”

Peigi laughed. “I’d nay have worried ye. Ye were heavy with child and due any moment.”

“Nay dismiss my concern. Is this why ye couldna come to the birth?”

Peigi looked down at Calum’s angelic face, tiny eyelashes as he took a shaky breath, then exhaled peacefully. “There was no cause for concern. As ye can see, I’m fine.”

She smiled and looked Aileana straight in the eyes.

“No cause?” Elizabeth whispered, drawing Aileana’s attention. “But what about the abbey?”

Aileana rounded back on her, eyes flying wide open. “Abbey ?”

Peigi took a centering breath. “I rested peacefully in the Abbey of Iona. The sisters took good care of me, and now I’m fine.”

Aileana looked furious. “Margaret Rose —”

“Sakes, it was nothing, I’m fine ,” Peigi dismissed, irritation seeping through the crack of her composure.

“If ye say fine once more, then aye, that’ll convince me.” Aileana’s frown deepened.

Peigi sighed. She’d known her sister would fret. But Aileana had deserved to rest pending her childbirth, not spend her days worried about her sister who hated the attention anyway.

“Pegs, ye should have told me.” Aileana wasn’t going to let this go. “When were ye dismissed?”

“She just arrived a fortnight ago,” Elizabeth said.

“Posh, Aileana. Forget nay that I’m yer big sister. ’Tis my job to worry about ye . Nay the other way ’round.” Peigi motioned for Gertrude to bring the next ladies’ game with a bright smile.

Aileana opened her mouth—

“Please …” Peigi whispered, her eyes stinging as she blinked them, readjusting Calum, palming his wee head and rear and relishing the soft scent from his hair as she sifted her nose across it.

The concern on Aileana’s face pleated harder, though she scooted nearer to her and wrapped her arms around her, resting her head to Peigi’s shoulder. The hearth was stoked to crackling, the peaty scent infiltrating the chamber.

“Okay. How about ye play a song instead,” Aileana said gently, even if the matter lingered like the proverbial thorn in one’s side. “I’ve never had to beg ye so hard.”

“How can I play when yer son sleeps comfortably upon me?” Peigi teased. “’Tis sacrilege to wake a sleeping babe.” She looped the lyre strap to her girdle one-handed.

Gertrude flitted among the maids bringing forth the game, her arms hugging a basket as her golden-ginger tresses bounced around her, her face smudged with soot from the kitchen fires.

“…’Tis sweet of Lady Peigi to entertain the servants’ children…” spoke Laird Graham’s grown daughter with a haughty chin lift.

Peigi frowned as Gertrude grew uncertain, peeking over her shoulder at the others. “Ye think the games foolish, mi lady?”

Peigi motioned the lass down to her other side, smoothing back her wisps. Laird Graham’s thirteen children had never lived the life of poverty that Peigi had. They couldn’t possibly understand how laird, lady, and laborers alike banded together during strife, the success of all their people depending on how strong their bonds were. If Peigi was to inherit this household who had every right to mistrust a Grant, she had to sow that trust.

“How do ye play such a game, Gertie?” Peigi asked.