Page 15 of Outlaw Ever After (Highland Handfasts #3)

Final day of Lughnasadh. August.

Peigi slipped away from camp, bundled in her Grant tartan, her wildflower crown adorning her, her lyre and coin-purse, and one bundle of clothing upon her back.

Today was the day. Her nerves were going to chew holes through her, they gnawed so badly. She pattered along the deer path, through the woods and over the burn, anticipation brimming for his bright green eyes and trilling flute, and she burst into the clearing—

Empty.

As far as she knew this morn, the MacLeods hadn’t returned. But mayhap she’d missed them? Mayhap he was on his way back to her now?

He said he’d be here, and it’s only morning. He still has the whole day.

The sun rose higher. She paced to the overlook, gazing into the glen. Caravans of festival goers straggled along the highroad, departing for home. The Lughnasadh bonfire was doused.

Shouldn’t he be here by now?

He promised.

After all, he

had

taken her to the kirk before his uncle had called him away. His promise was his bond, his uncle had said. She should be proud that he’d spring into action to help those in need. He was probably held up in business with the MacLeod.

She twisted his signet ring around her finger. He wouldn’t have given her his mother’s ring if he didn’t intend to follow through.

Yet her heart beat erratically throughout the morning.

Clans were striking camp as the sun reached its zenith. Throughout the day, hammers, calls, thumping of crates into wagons continued. And still, there was no sign. A branch rustled and she whirled around.

“Alexander?”

A bird fluttered off. Disappointment sank. Her stomach growled, but if she left to find a meal, she might miss him.

She sat in the grass. Slipped free of her shoes.

Played her lyre as the sun began to descend from afternoon toward evening.

She watched the steady trail of caravans and standards hoisted on poles trickle down the high road into the glen.

Forced herself to relax as silence engulfed the distant festival, save occasional calls from the menfolk of Kilravock breaking down the daises and cleaning up rubbish.

She drank from her flagon of watered wine to wet her palate and nibbled on the nuts and dried apples she’d carried in her pouch.

Seamus would be worried, if he wasn’t already, but they’d arrived at the faire late and he’d been clear he wished to stay until the very end to trade.

She’d hoped to greet him at the end of the day as a married woman.

But the sun hung low over the western hill where that kirk spire protruded against the sky like an omen.

That shimmer of premonition she’d always harbored seemed to have vanished.

Leaves crunched, and her head popped up with hope. “Alexander?”

A squirrel.

Dread clashed within her now, kept at bay all day long.

The castle rested silent. The woods around her were darkening and she could no longer distinguish the striking nuances between the red hem of her kirtle and the softer red of the brocade on her skirts.

Her brother was likely finished with all his bartering and searching for her.

Elizabeth, her sister-in-law, likely fretted.

The sun was setting when the unmistakable sound of boots crunched along the trail and shuffled in the dirt.

She jumped to her feet! “I was so worried!” she exclaimed. “I thought ye’d left me and…”

Kendrew MacGregor emerged. Him? She’d noticed him eying her this morn as their clans had broken their fasts. Had he seen her come this way? She’d thought this greenwood secluded.

“Who were ye expecting?” He cocked a brow.

“N-no one,” she stammered. “How did ye find me?”

He studied her impassively, took in her traveling bundle, then looked around. She pulled her Grant tartan tighter around her.

“I saw ye come this way both yesterday and today. Heard ye playing yer lyre much of the time and ken how ye hate these large gatherings. I figured ye wished for solitude. I admit, I’d had hope to turn yer mind toward my marriage suit—” He cleared his throat as if to clear away hurt.

Her breathing felt erratic.

He looked around again as if he might find a lurker. “Waiting on a liaison?”

He smiled, normally disarming, but she blanched.

“I tease, Peigi.” He stuck out his elbow. “Come. Seamus wants to leave soon, and my clan is accompanying yers as far as Drumnadrochit. Lady Elizabeth searches for ye.”

She glanced out into the glen, where the high road vanished in the distance. Glanced across the river to St. Machan’s. Everyone was gone except for her people. She summoned a smile to stave off the emotion threatening to shimmer on her eyes.

“I’ll be along shortly, Kendrew. Tell Seamus nay to worry.”

Again, he eyed her. Impassive, and yet, it felt invasive as if he scrutinized all her secrets. He nodded once, bowed politely, and backed away.

But the orange orb of the sun was sinking now behind the hills. The day was done. Insects serenaded her solitude. Perhaps he’d been waylaid.

Perhaps he’s nay coming

, whispered her voice of reason.

Nay make excuses for such a rogue who’d partake of the flesh before bonding it with a vow.

Still

, she fought the shame that threatened to envelop her. Tried to ignore the facts glaring her in the face, when finally, more boots crunched close.

She whirled around, desperate for him not to have made her a fool. “Al—”

Seamus emerged. “Peigi? Kendrew told me I’d find ye here.”

He looked her over. Noted her traveling pack, her tartan shawl.

Tears collected on her eyelids uncontrollably. Questions filled his eyes.

“What are these tears?” he growled, covering the gap between them in a few long strides and pulling her into his arms.

“I—”

She couldn’t tell him, rigid in his grip, as tears hiccupped her throat. That she might have been duped by what was likely the oldest trick in the land to bend a lass to a man’s way. “I was waiting. T-to say goodbye to someone.” The sob threatened her throat but she stifled it, her voice wavering.

“But camp is empty. The last clan left nigh an hour ago now.”

“No one remains?” Oh God.

He shook his head, his brow furrowing harder at her gathering tears. “Yestereve after the fire, the MacDonalds departed shortly after the MacLeods and nay returned. The Grahams broke camp at dawn today, as did the Lindsays and the MacDougalls and the…”

But all she heard was that the MacLeods were gone. With whom she’d spied Alexander traveling.

The tears finally dislodged. They vaulted down her cheeks as a sob escaped her throat. Reality crashed like a battering ram to a curtain wall: Alexander, the afeared Reaper, had lied.

He’d promised to her face he’d always be honest with her, but he hadn’t been.

And she’d hung on his words as if they were moonbeams upon which to swing. She never trusted easily, but she’d trusted him. Thought she’d felt a special connection weaving them together like…threads braiding fate.

“Dear God, what has happened to ye, Pegs,” Seamus breathed in shock, clutching her as she wobbled, for she was never so uncomposed.

“I canna say! I canna say!” She hiccupped, tears staining her cheeks as evening shadows swallowed them in twilight. “He said he’d come…”

“Peigi, I nay understand…

he

?”

She didn’t miss how his voice dropped from worried to ominous.

Illness threatened to roil her empty belly. She gripped it, doubling over as her brother’s iron arms banded so tightly around her they held her up, his molars grinding so hard she could hear the dull abrasion. His body began to tremble with unchecked fury. When he snarled so softly his next words.

“Who’s the whoreson?”

Alexander, if that was even his real name, wasn’t coming. And she was the Reaper’s fool. God, she was ruined, and now, her brother knew! It didn’t matter if it was by Alexander or by a reaver.

“I need his name, Pegs. As God is my witness, he will be made a eunuch by my own blade.”

But she didn’t want anyone paying for more crimes.

Didn’t want more enemies made. Retaliations.

Bloodshed. She’d lived her whole life in fear of those things.

She didn’t want to think or feel. And what if Alex had planted his seed within her?

Bastard born or nay, could she ever admit to a babe of hers that its uncle had so harmed its blood sire?

Nay, she just wanted to slip back into her shadows and lick her wounds and pray that God would help her forget the biggest mistake she’d ever made: falling for a selfish blackguard who’d spoken every magical thing her desperate ears had wanted to hear.

Teased her with promises of the life she’d dreamed of having.

Mayhap if she woke on the morrow, she’d find this had all been a nightmare.

But when she woke the next day, and the next, and the

next

, she soon discovered: her nightmare was just beginning.