Page 31 of Outlaw Ever After

“Who were ye expecting?” He cocked a brow.

“N-no one,” she stammered. “How did ye find me?”

He studied her impassively, took in her traveling bundle, then looked around. She pulled her Grant tartan tighter around her.

“I saw ye come this way both yesterday and today. Heard ye playing yer lyre much of the time and ken how ye hate these large gatherings. I figured ye wished for solitude. I admit, I’d had hope to turn yer mind toward my marriage suit—” He cleared his throat as if to clear away hurt.

Her breathing felt erratic.

He looked around again as if he might find a lurker. “Waiting on a liaison?”

He smiled, normally disarming, but she blanched.

“I tease, Peigi.” He stuck out his elbow. “Come. Seamus wants to leave soon, and my clan is accompanying yers as far as Drumnadrochit. Lady Elizabeth searches for ye.”

She glanced out into the glen, where the high road vanished in the distance. Glanced across the river to St. Machan’s. Everyone was gone except for her people. She summoned a smile to stave off the emotion threatening to shimmer on her eyes.

“I’ll be along shortly, Kendrew. Tell Seamus nay to worry.”

Again, he eyed her. Impassive, and yet, it felt invasive as if he scrutinized all her secrets. He nodded once, bowed politely, and backed away.

But the orange orb of the sun was sinking now behind the hills. The day was done. Insects serenaded her solitude. Perhaps he’d been waylaid.

Perhaps he’s nay coming , whispered her voice of reason. Nay make excuses for such a rogue who’d partake of the flesh before bonding it with a vow.

Still , she fought the shame that threatened to envelop her. Tried to ignore the facts glaring her in the face, when finally, more boots crunched close.

She whirled around, desperate for him not to have made her a fool. “Al—”

Seamus emerged. “Peigi? Kendrew told me I’d find ye here.”

He looked her over. Noted her traveling pack, her tartan shawl.

Tears collected on her eyelids uncontrollably. Questions filled his eyes.

“What are these tears?” he growled, covering the gap between them in a few long strides and pulling her into his arms.

“I—”

She couldn’t tell him, rigid in his grip, as tears hiccupped her throat. That she might have been duped by what was likely the oldest trick in the land to bend a lass to a man’s way. “I was waiting. T-to say goodbye to someone.” The sob threatened her throat but she stifled it, her voice wavering.

“But camp is empty. The last clan left nigh an hour ago now.”

“No one remains?” Oh God.

He shook his head, his brow furrowing harder at her gathering tears. “Yestereve after the fire, the MacDonalds departed shortly after the MacLeods and nay returned. The Grahams broke camp at dawn today, as did the Lindsays and the MacDougalls and the…”

But all she heard was that the MacLeods were gone. With whom she’d spied Alexander traveling.

The tears finally dislodged. They vaulted down her cheeks as a sob escaped her throat. Reality crashed like a battering ram to a curtain wall: Alexander, the afeared Reaper, had lied.

He’d promised to her face he’d always be honest with her, but he hadn’t been.

And she’d hung on his words as if they were moonbeams upon which to swing. She never trusted easily, but she’d trusted him. Thought she’d felt a special connection weaving them together like…threads braiding fate.

“Dear God, what has happened to ye, Pegs,” Seamus breathed in shock, clutching her as she wobbled, for she was never so uncomposed.

“I canna say! I canna say!” She hiccupped, tears staining her cheeks as evening shadows swallowed them in twilight. “He said he’d come…”