Page 100 of Outlaw Ever After

Trial of the heretic, Richard MacGregor.

Stripped of his lands in Glen Lyon, and stripped of the promise of a castle and lands to his issue in Speyside? Castle Freuchie sat directly upon the River Spey. Coincidence?

Was this the same Richard who’d sired Kendrew and Bale? She knew Bale was Kendrew’s older brother, but didn’t know much about him. What had Richard MacGregor been punished for? She read on.

Richard, son of Gregor didst attempt to cross foe lines with privy information pertinent to King James’s cavalry size, and whereabouts, thus attempting to spoil the fight in favor of the English Army, were it nay for a common lad née Comyn, loyal to his Crown, who didst overhear the treachery being designed and reported it to His Highness’s camp.

And Richard, a heretic, or Protestant, had been stripped of all lands as punishment according to the histories. She picked up her taper holder and knelt in a pool of linen, pushing the manuscript back onto the shelf, questions abuzz in her mind—

“Mi lady?”

Peigi jumped at the sound of Joslyn’s voice, teetered off balance and thudded to her rear. Her ring clinked across the floorboards.

“Goodness, child,” the midwife gasped, scurrying to catch the taper that threatened to set the rug ablaze.

“Nay…” Peigi chased the ring as it slipped into a crack, exhaling with relief as she fished it out and slipped it safely on her finger. “Mistress Jossy? Ye frightened me.”

Joslyn set the candle on the nearby sill and helped her upright.

“Ye frighten easily, child?”

Peigi composed herself. “Have ye nay found yer bed yet?”

“Just doing a final check of the castle. And I could ask ye the same.” The woman scrutinized her. “Ye pass out in the village as ghostly as death whilst Sir Alexander worries himself into a state, and yet ye’re up at the witching hour as Samhain approaches, as if tempting fate.”

Peigi relaxed at the motherly scolding and fidgeted with the ring, drawing Joslyn’s eye to it. “I’m sorry. I’m restless.”

Joslyn softened, scooping her unbound hair over her shoulder. “What ails ye?”

She shook her head. Could she trust Joslyn with her question? The serving woman had grown warm to her, but Joslyn was still a Comyn, and the Comyns still didn’t see her as an ally.

“What do ye make of Sir, eh, Alexander?”

“Hot on yer mind the lad is, eh?” Joslyn winked, but Peigi didn’t miss Joslyn’s quiet scrutiny. Then she asked, “I think what matters more is what do ye make of him?”

Peigi blew out of the corner of her mouth, ruffling a loose strand of hair that Joslyn had missed. “I knew him once.”

“Only once? What happened?”

“He asked me to elope. Gave me this ring as a promise.”

She held out her finger, and Joslyn’s brow shot up as she inspected the design contemplatively. “I can nay imagine he gave it lightly. Why did ye nay agree?”

“I did . I came to meet him time and again, but, eh…he needed to fight. Then he was waylaid and said he left me a missive explaining, but,” she shook her head, “I never saw such a missive.”

Joslyn lay a gentle hand on her arm.

“Do ye think with a ring like that, that he left ye pining on purpose?”

Peigi chewed her lip. “What ye said, about the oat stalks, it’s silly for it was just a game and yet I can nay help but feel as if I’ve met him before.”

“Ye did. At Lughnasadh, aye?”

“Nay. There was a familiarity even then. I still feel it in my marrow and I’ve begun to wonder…” Peigi shook her head. “I feel as if he hides something from me, and all I’ve ever wanted from him was honesty…”

Peigi turned back to the shelf and squatted back down, slipping out a book which only proved to be a book of hours, slipping it back in, pulling forth another.

Joslyn nodded to herself. “Mayhap he doesna keep secrets, so much as he protects his heart.”