Page 102 of Outlaw Ever After

God, she remembered those horrible arguments in the great hall of Urquhart, when her brother had argued with their mither, who’d begged him to show these folk mercy. Now, it seemed as if mayhap he had argued for that leniency. Mayhap he hadn’t been averse to listening so much as he’d been overwhelmed with decisions and pressure while amid a haze of grief.

“Has my brother been, eh, good to ye, these past years?”

Then Joslyn smiled and her eyes watered.

“What?” Peigi’s gaze narrowed.

“He was a sweet lad before that day. Mischievous,” Joslyn outpoured, as if a floodgate of trust had opened. Then she, too, sat down on the rug with a humph and grasped Peigi’s hands like a fond friend. “Always a laugh on his lips as he ran these halls with my son, Aulay. Like brothers they were.” They giggled together. “And my God, he could play a tune. His mither taught him but the natural inclination was there to be fostered, and his sire indulged him with instruments and adventures.”

The affection in Joslyn’s voice spread over Peigi, even if the feeling of coincidence continued to niggle as Joslyn regaled her.

“And he was thoughtful. Always so proud of his sire, who wasna nobility, mind.”

“No?”

Joslyn shook her head, then chuckled. “He was a miller’s son.”

“Truly!”

“Indeed. He labored in the fields, reaping corn, and managed the granary, all by himself from the age of twelve, for when his sire died, he had to provide for his mither and two sisters. He earned his knighthood, and this land, as a gift for his valiant service to the King, thus becoming a laird, and was even styled a baron .”

Mon Dieu…the manuscript she’d just read.

“His people prospered. His villages grew as his wife’s kin moved close. He had come from meager means and worked hard alongside his folk, for he saw no shame in it.”

It was what Peigi valued, too. Working alongside her people. Supporting one another.

“They’d tried for many years to sow a bairn. And one day, when the laird had achieved one and fifty years, his wife eight and forty, they bore a son. A miracle. A blessing. So when he was finally born, they rejoiced in each thing he said or did.”

I was the blessing they’d always prayed for…

“How do ye ken all of this about the Laird Comyn and his family?”

Joslyn’s hands tightened on her as her gaze bounced back and forth between Peigi’s. “Because he was my brother. And the young laddie, my nephew.”

What? Then if her hunch about Alex’s true identity was correct, that would make Aulay and Francine his…cousins.

“What is his true name?” she whispered. And no clarification seemed needed, for Joslyn smiled warmly, her eyes glistening. “I must ken, I’ve worried for him so these years, wondering if he survived—”

“Caleb,” Joslyn breathed. Letter C. “That lullaby ye sang tonight, mi lady. ’Twas beautiful. However did ye learn it?”

“This book.” She reached up to the lectern and brought it down. Joslyn’s eyes widened. “Brought home on one of my brother’s outings when I was a child. He knew I loved to play, and the song was so bonny. Alexander told me this summer that his mither had sung it to him, that it was what had drawn him to me.”

“I imagine it’s the moment he fell in love with ye, sweet lass,” Joslyn whispered, and ran a reverent palm over it.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Samhain Day. The Wild Hunt. First day of November.

Peigi held out the cutlets from the bowl for Aulay to read.

“Sir MacGregor and Laird Graham! Yer names were drawn to captain the hunt. Pick yer hunting parties!” Aulay called through a horn.

Peigi’s lyre, having been abandoned in the hamlet the night before, had been perched on her bedstand this morn. A fresh posy tied with a green silk ribbon had lain atop it.

How was Alex, or…Caleb?…going about the castle unseen? Joslyn’s conversation had affirmed Peigi’s suspicions last night, but conveniently hadn’t con firmed them.

And where was Seamus? He’d not broken his fast today. How was she to catch him before he departed to Edinburgh? How could Seamus turn his back on all she’d confessed, when she’d thought he’d finally listened?