Page 26 of Outlaw Ever After (Highland Handfasts #3)

Peigi left her chamber, having composed herself, when Seamus called.

“Peigi, wait.”

She turned to see him coming off the stairs from above, parchment in hand. She hastened the other way and descended the stairs toward the great hall. The embarrassment he’d forced upon her in front of Alex, still fresh, savaged through her. Wasn’t this tournament embarrassment enough?

The celebration grew boisterous on her ears. “Ye can beat him!” taunted some of the contestants who were arm wrestling.

Beat. Beatings… Anger rippled through her anew—at Alex’s arrival today, making her confront him when she’d finally put him behind her.

At making her atrophied heart feel pain again.

At the beating Alex had suffered. That, and his back had been a mess of olden welts.

Distorted scars that had once flayed him open until he’d been raw, scar tissue stretched by time.

She’d known him to be a warrior. But those hadn’t been the irregular cuts of battle.

“Sister, slow down.” Her brother chased her.

She bunched up her skirts and pattered faster.

“ Sister

.” His voice grew insistent, though she didn’t stop, until he took her arm. “Wait—”

She spun around to face him. The dog, having trotted ahead of her, rumbled, but Peigi mastered herself quickly and quieted the beast with a gentle hand. Sweet pup, becoming her protector, making her think of Mildred so long ago.

He threw his hand up in surrender. “I’m sorry for shouting. I was nay angry at ye. I saw him holding ye and—”

“Ye nay trust me. After this summer.”

He rubbed his jaw at her double edged question. Then pulled her to him. This time, she let him. His normally stoic hands trembled with…frustration? Anger? “I trust ye. I just nay ken why ye did it.”

“And yet, ye’d nay honor me by standing down when I ask ye.”

“It’s just… It was my duty to protect ye, and I failed. I let a wolf steal into my sister’s heart and reave her innocence and I worry, for ye’ve been so quiet since that day.”

Innocence…

She sank into Seamus’s brotherly hold. He didn’t offer these hugs often anymore.

“Ye’ve been so ill, and that day when ye cried, Christ, I’ve rarely seen ye so pained and been unable to make it better, and now this man shows up and draws yer tears in front of the whole hall and— Hell

, I want to sink my dirk into his obnoxious smirk—”

“He nay stole what I gave him, Seamus.” Alex had been right. They’d both chosen it.

Seamus pulled back at her unexpected words. “Peigi.” When her use of the word “He” sank in, his eyes hollowed. Was he listening? He always heard her but rarely listened. “He is

the man.”

She said nothing. Chewed her lip.

“And ye still love him.”

Helplessness descended. She shook her head. “I nay ken how I feel. Confused?” At the least, relieved to not have to lie to him about Alex’s identity. God knew her other secrets had eaten away at her heart over the years, like a mouse nibbling through the corncrib.

His eyes searched hers as disgust contorted his brow. “He abandoned ye.”

“I ken. He said he came for me, left a missive for me, begging me to wait, but…”

“And ye believe him?” Seamus scoffed with disgust.

“I nay ken what to believe. He nay struck me as a liar before.”

“Did ye find such a missive?”

She bit her lip, looking down, hurt panging again, as she fiddled with the beadwork on her bodice. “I suppose it’s why it hurt when he didna come for me, to realize he was

one.”

Seamus took her arms gently and rubbed. “I nay mock yer innocence, Pegs, but he lied to ye, for I am a man and I ken how men think. He wanted to-to swive

ye,” he spat the word as if he’d had to force it up his throat, “and if he’d kenned a shred of honor, he’d have wed ye immediately.

I’m nay a hard one to find. Everyone kens ye’re my sister.

He nay came for ye and is only entering this tourney to be a thorn in my side and gain an opportunity now that he kens ye’re attached to such a valuable prize. ”

“I told him my christened name. Nay Peigi. And I never told him my surname.”

Seamus turned away, shaking his head and resting his hands on his hips, then whirled around again.

“Ye were going to elope with a man ye just met?” He searched her face, His jaw pumping. “Make me understand.”

“Ye met Elizabeth for the first time at the kirk altar. And yet, ye’ve grown to love her.”

He huffed with frustration at her reasoning used against him and raked a hand through his hair. “Who is he? No mere parchment pusher can fight off nine

of my men. He’s a skilled warrior.”

“He made a living as a warrior for a Highland clan, aye, but he accomplished his studies and gained an employ with the Crown.”

“Aye, the Earl of Arran, in his ongoing efforts of peace, has decided to subdue those warring clans, nay by fighting them, but by employing

them.”

“Mayhap, but he said he wanted to lay down his sword.”

“Speaking of this royal employ…” Seamus dug out the missive Alexander had proudly thrust at him and shook it for effect.

“He has a scheme up his sleeve, too. He protected ye, aye, but he’s more than he seems. He nay came here to enter a tournament, he came from Court to summon me before the Lord High Treasurer—”

“There ye are, Peigi.” Aileana rounded the corner. “Everyone is asking about ye. Yer suitors would like a dance.”

Something unreadable lanced through Seamus’s eyes at the word “suitors”.

This was her duty now. Her confusion over Alex didn’t matter anymore. She steeled herself, looped a sisterly arm through Aileana’s, and rejoined the fanfare.

…

Joslyn wagged a finger at Alexander.

“Nay think for a moment I missed what just passed betwixt ye and the lady. Does she ken yer true identity?”

Aye, she just doesna realize it…

“Nay.” And it didn’t sit well with him that he couldn’t tell her, either.

How would she react? Would she run to her brother?

She’d once asked him to always be honest with her.

But could he risk telling her that he was the outlaw accused of murdering her sire?

She might have once kissed him as a lassie, but years had passed and her clan’s hatred of him might have infiltrated her heart and turned her against him.

What were the odds he’d come here today, when his birthright was being put on the auction block, as if the fates had divined it, sucking him into their mischief.

“The only other reason I can figure for her tears is that ye once found comfort in each other’s arms,” Joslyn hedged.

He went still. Then paced a step again. Took up the flagon Peigi had left behind and knocked back another swig, smacking his lips together.

“I’ve hit the peg upon its crown,” Joslyn said. “Did ye hurt her?”

Christ. He shook his head. He’d lied to the best and worst of the world’s blackguards without a twitch of the lips, yet he’d never been able to lie to Joslyn. “I nay meant to.”

“Does her brother ken ye share a history with her?”

“I think it’s fair to say he suspects, after he nearly took off me arm, eh?” he quipped wryly, moving to the window to open it and brace the sill.

Torches lit the yard beneath him. He took stock of sentries at each post. How well each was armed. Here, in his birthright, he wasn’t just in the lion’s den, he was in its bloody jaws.

Joslyn laid a hand upon his back, feeling the olden welts but blessedly not asking about them. “Did ye…do anything regrettable?”

“What do ye mean?” He knew exactly what she meant, and he should regret that

because it had caused his songbird a world of hurt…but he didn’t.

Joslyn leveled a glare at him.

“Ye still like to stir the cauldron, old woman?”

“Ye ken my question. I’ve nay been an innocent in eight and sixty years.”

“I nay regret a single moment that I’ve kenned her,” he clarified resolutely. What he had or hadn’t done to his songbird was nobody else’s business, no matter how close he was to Joslyn.

“It’s clear to me she cares for ye, too. But ye must talk to her, mayhap give her time.”

“Time?” He arched an incredulous brow. “There’s nay the luxury of time

with her as the bride prize in three days.”

“There is if ye win,” Jossy said.

The draft from the window wavered the candlelight, pebbling his skin with gooseflesh.

He stilled at the twinkle in her eye and folded his arms. She’d always had a sixth sense.

Between the crab apples, Seamus’s blade, and a legion of guards released upon him like hunting hounds put upon a fox’s scent… Was his history with Peigi so obvious?

“Ye’ve entered this tourney, but ye came here for another purpose. What is it ye intend to do?”

His jaw ticked as he considered everything at stake. This castle. His sire’s soul. These folk, some of whom had lived a lifetime beneath Seamus’s dictates. Justice. Her

. His job to do for the Crown.

He leveled his eyes at Joslyn. “Win back what’s mine.”

Joslyn left. He slipped his bloodied tunic on and dipped out of his chamber to rejoin the hall—

Heavy boots plodded up the winding stairs and blocked the archway.

One of Seamus’s guardsmen.

“It’s bedtime for the laddie in the nursery,” the man quipped, a flask at his hip and a trencher of supper to get him through the night.

Ah, so it is to be like this?

“Am I under house arrest?” He hitched up his chin.

“Of course nay. The laird simply wishes an esteemed guest from the Royal Treasury be watched over. For his security, of course.”

“Of course.” Alex smirked. “Are ye my nursemaid, then? Come to rock me to sleep?”

The man scowled. “Believe me, minding duty is the last place I want to be when my lass is waiting for me.”

“Ye deny yer esteemed guest

a feast, so ye must cast lots with me instead.”

Alexander retrieved a purse of dice from the toy chest and sat down in the corridor, opposite the stool which the guard had dragged to the door.

Music filtered up the stairs, where many an off-duty guard no doubt were eating chicken with a wench upon their knees.

MacGregor had wanted her to save him a dance. Is she down there indulging him now?

The thought of that cretin touching her made him want to beat his fists into the plaster.

“Be off with ye,” the guard groused, but Alex opened his sporran and flicked a copper onto the tiles. He needed to disarm these folks’ suspicions.

“Afraid ye’ll lose? I’m nay afraid to put my coin where me mouth is.”

Ah, Alex’d jabbed the man’s pride, judging from his scowl.

“Pass yer flask whilst ye’re at it.” Alexander grinned, crooking his fingers for the brew.

But when after several rounds Alex won the pot of antes again, while helping himself to Sir Donegal’s trencher, Sir Donegal finally tossed the dice across the corridor.

“Get ye to bed, ye swindler,” Donegal groused, as Alex scraped the winnings toward himself with a laugh and counted them into two piles. “Ye steal my drink, my sup, and now my coin?”

Except, as Alex heaved himself up, he turned, then dumped half the pot back into Donegal’s lap with a jingle and a wink.

Donegal’s eyes widened in surprise as Alex shut and barred his door, blocking out the sound of ladies’ frivolities and images of Peigi dancing in other men’s arms.

Let them think they’d trapped him. Donegal’s guard was down now. Judging from how untouched these furnishings were, it was safe to say that Seamus Grant didn’t know many things about this castle that he

did, and he had a dear cousin to drink whisky with in the hamlet.