Page 124 of Outlaw Ever After

Three times ye have to find your mate or fall unto the curse…

“What if we’re nay fated, but cursed?” He gave voice to the panic.

Christ, could he nay stop shaking?

“Nonsense. Nary a need to be dramatic, lad,” Joslyn murmured, resting a hand to Peigi’s forehead. Jossy, the foremost believer in olden magic, calling curses nonsense? He scoffed— “Take her to her chamber. Fetch my medicinals, lassie.”

Gertie, he realized, lurked behind them.

Gertie scurried away and Joslyn waddled into the great hall, calling above the ruckus of the drinks to the bard.

“Play the one about the ghost of the woman in the tower!” Joslyn joined him by the hearth, drawing the chamber’s attention.

Alex slipped the few paces to the stairwell during their distraction, breezed beneath the archway, up the stairs, passing the tapestries and out onto the first floor, toeing open the lady’s chamber door. It thudded against the wall as he strode to her bed while Gertie hurried in behind him and closed it. But instead of laying her out, this time, he settled beside her, holding her to his heart, resting his head upon the pillow.

“Loosen her stays,” Joslyn directed, so calm, entering soon after with an armload of supplies and a water bladder on her arm. Gertie was already rousing a fire. “She’s going to be fine.”

“Fine is a bloody curse word, woman,” he fumed.

He was sick of hearing the word “fine.” Peigi wasn’t fine.

Still, he did as he was told and worked her laces loose with shaking hands, eyes trained on her shallow breathing and clammy face as Joslyn unwrapped dried biscuits from the food pack. She dumped dried leaves into a sieve and poured the hot water in the cup.

“How can she be fine one moment and then lightheaded the next?”

Joslyn removed the sieve and soggy leaves. Aromatic chamomile permeated the chamber. She pinched in ginger and stirred. “Gertie love, fetch a bowl of porridge, then find yerself an apple tart in the kitchens. It’s off to bed for ye after that. Take Thomas with ye.”

“Aye, Granny.”

Gertie left as Peigi’s head lolled and the fire began to crackle.

His teeth gritted as he felt Peigi’s forehead, watched her eyelids pinch and her brow furrow.

Jossy fetched a blanket and draped it over Peigi. Still wordless.

Be damned but why didn’t Jossy seem as alarmed as he?

“Ye ken what is ailing her,” Alex said ominously, brokering no argument as he tucked the blanket around Peigi’s neck. Pink was returning to her cheeks. She stirred. “Yet ye keep it from me.”

Jossy still seemed short on words.

“Jossy.” He swallowed hard, and bit back—yet failed to mask—the waver in his rumble. “Answer me. If ye ken what is ailing her, speak up so I might help her.”

His aunt touched his shoulder as Peigi blinked those doe eyes open.

“Ale…Caleb?” she breathed.

“Thank Christ.” He exhaled, tightening her in his hold, burying her in his grip to hold onto the lass who still wasn’t truly his.

“Dear lad,” Jossy crooned, like she once had when he’d been wee and scraped a knee. “Go wait outside the door. All will be weel.”

“I’m nay leaving her.” The thought of her dying, the thought of losing her all over again when he’d once lost everything and everyone who mattered, twisted angrily in his chest.

Joslyn squeezed his shoulder. “I must examine her.”

Jaw pumping, Alex forced himself to stand as Peigi looked up at him in confusion. He forced a stilted smile.

She furrowed her brow harder. “What happened? I thought we were on our way to the kirk.”