Page 116 of Outlaw Ever After

He took it carefully, nodded his thanks kindly, then rested his hand upon Alex’s shoulder and closed his eyes, feeling a prayer in silence, and realization hit her like a pummel: Alex had never witnessed this outpouring of devotion from his people before. He’d never experienced such prayers, exiled as he’d been. His jaw grew tighter, still. This community of folk all grieved, still.

Torches lit the growing twilight, the procession moved door to door, the party sang and celebrated. The folk ate cakes and venison. The song filled the night. She resolved herself to be happy for now and let today’s problems become tomorrow’s.

Her stomach growled and she rested her hand upon it. His gaze flashed to her gesture with concern as he and Aulay roughhoused like lads, laughter rolling from his throat.

I’m fine , she mouthed to assure him. He masked his worry with an eye waggle, before clinking tankards with Aulay and sharing a jest.

But he wasn’t fooling her. His hand constantly on the small of her back or his presence never straying far, glances like this one now, inspecting her visage, proved he wasn’t so happy-go-lucky anymore. He was worried.

They’d both been cheated of what could have been. She had to have faith in the crab apples and oat stalks, that they knew who her husband-to-be truly was. She had to have faith in the sidh that wavered the winds when she brushed with fate, as her mother would have wished. She’d always have Freuchie, a source of power struggle and dark deeds, but at least, she’d have him and his bright spark between the moments of frightening defense. And so would his people.

And when he won, they could start anew.

They could leave the past where it belonged, so long as Seamus could be convinced to lay down his anger.

“Come with me,” a voice murmured in her ear. She glanced up to see Alex’s eyes full of sparkle. He tugged her between a shed and a cottage. “I want to show ye something.”

“We’ll be missed.”

He shook his head, casting his arm toward the idyllic scene around the bonfire of people eating venison off the spit. “’Twill be fine. Only castle folk and villagers remain. The tourney party returned a while ago.”

Peigi looked about. True. And for the time being, the villagers were distracted and satisfied.

“Where do ye take me?”

He tugged on her fingers, chewing his cheek. Sheepish? This bold outlaw? Nay…he was looking at everything but her with that same contemplativeness lingering in his eyes when he glanced at the trees like he knew them.

She furrowed her brow on a hesitant smile. “All right.”

He laced his fingers into hers and guided her down the route she’d escaped with the bairns. The sounds of celebration grew distant as he spirited her along the moonlit riverbank, the clouds from earlier lifting.

“Ye need to stop? To rest?” He glanced over his shoulder, grip tight upon her as if she were the most fragile thing in the world.

“I’m fine.” Peigi squeezed his hand, smiling at the scolding. For once, she truly felt…fine . “I promise.”

Her stomach growled, as if to defy her. He scowled angrily, but said nothing.

Allt A’ Bhacain bubbled and churned its way into a wider basin, until she realized they’d long since passed the cave and the riverbank felt much more like a shore.

She took in his profile against the starry sky.

“Alex, please. To where do we go? For ye to be so short on words worries me,” she teased.

He guided her up the shore. The ruin that she’d spied in the distance loomed closer.

That same familiarity skittered over her skin that she’d been here before.

She glanced back at the shore, taking in the village, lanterns hovering like glowworms in a meadow, noticing Freuchie looming beyond the woods, a shadow in the distance demarcated by sentry torches.

“I ken this place.” She shivered. His brow hitched in question. “Where are we? Nay make me beg.”

He turned her toward the jagged silhouette stark in the moonlight. His belly to her back, he rested his chin atop her head and banded an arm around her shoulders. He kissed her ear, his other palm splaying protectively across her belly. So tender, so full of yearning, as if wishing he could have protected what had once been.

That knot tightened in her throat. She swallowed it down, refusing to let it dash this stolen moment. Her stomach growled. He tensed, but honored her and said nothing.

“It’s nay much, but it’s still a cottage on the shore…my cottage.” His hands feathered away and took her fingers, pulling her onward. “Bequeathed to my assumed name by my maw’s people. This was my family’s favorite place to be. My cousins and me. We gathered just like ye once said ye wished to do, as a brood around the fire, whilst my maw sang and played her lyre,” he continued, looking at her, not as if he remembered the past, but as if he was envisioning his future.

“Did yer da let the laddies beat him at games, too, like ye do?”