Page 114 of Outlaw Ever After

“She could never be ruined,” Alex rumbled.

MacGregor’s lips tipped up with amusement. “I’m nay concerned with her virtue.”

“Then why pursue her if she rejected ye outright?”

“Marriage isna about desire.”

“Nay, ye want something more,” Alex said. “Or ye hide something more…about Freuchie, perchance? Or mayhap…yer brother?”

“I could say the same for ye, Alexander or Reaper or…” Now MacGregor stopped and set down his rag. “Tell me, what does C stand for?”

Ah, there it was. “Cretin, as ye’ve said.”

“Nay Caleb?”

“No idea of what ye speak.” Alex slung his words back at him. “Does Seamus ken ye’ve tried to see me killed?”

MacGregor smirked. “What Seamus doesna ken willna hurt him.”

His nape prickled with warning. Prophetic words. Or threatening ones. Because he was beginning to think there was quite a lot Seamus didn’t know. And that Peigi was at the heart of it.

He glanced to Peigi, atop the courtyard organizing the Souling party—in Francine’s tartan mantle. His colors—a perfect chatelaine, ever demure, despite only ever wanting a simple, quiet life, as if she didn’t cope daily with darkness.

…

Peigi sucked in her breath as a hand slipped around her growling stomach in the commotion of gathering guests and nobles in the courtyard.

Patchouli surrounded her.

“Ye’ve nay eaten weel today.” The scolding resonated at her ear, a surreptitious kiss pressed to her lobe as bodies teemed around them.

She gathered up the basket of soul cakes in her mittened hands and smiled over her shoulder.

“I’m fine , Sir Alexander,” she said coyly.

“Will ye nay stay and rest, songbird?”

Joslyn tsked at him, shooing him away. “Ye’ve nay won her hand in marriage yet, laddie. Quit fretting and have faith.”

He chuckled as Peigi giggled.

Joslyn continued. “Ready, mi lady?”

“Indeed, Jossy. Ready— oh !” Her basket was hoisted from her grip as Alex perched it upon his shoulder and offered her his arm.

She flashed a glare at him, but he shrugged, a smug smile on his face as he gazed at the horizon and ignored her. She slipped her hand through his elbow. Felt his muscles twitch and clench down to hold her.

Arms linked with Aileana and beside her, Elizabeth, babes bundled and packed upon backs, she led the castle party down the courtyard stairs, followed by the ladies, lairds, and contestants. The castle staff followed in procession as a bodhrán struck up a rhythm.

The wind whipped flurries from the gray skies, yet the singing was gay.

She pushed her worry out of her heart. This eve would be about celebration of the dead, of those who rested in purgatory, needing prayers to ascend to heaven. It would be about joyous children, cakes, and feeding these folk.

“ Thars a lass in Inverness, sing oh sing me laddies !” belted the bard as roars of approval echoed across the shorn hayfields. Clapping and dancing broke out among the revelers.

“Chestnut hair and skin so fair, sing oh sing me laddies!”

“They’re playing our song,” Alex murmured beside her. And a breath later, her basket was foisted to Aulay and Alex snatched up her hand, wrenching her free of her sister to reel her around the ancient standing stones amid the field.