Page 41 of Outlaw Ever After

Peigi held her breath as her brother’s eyes narrowed angrily.

He shrugged as if MacGregor spoke of eating day-old bread, even if a twinkle sprang to life in Alex’s eyes. He smoothed his beard with those ink—and now blood—stained fingers as if a cat toying with its dinner. “I’m many things, man. But a parchment-pusher is best of them. Seems the Crown has a newfound interest in employing Highlanders.”

And then, casting that devilish glare at Seamus, he notched his chin and crawled right under her brother’s skin. “Consider me yer tenth entry in the bride tourney.”

Peigi’s heart leapt! Plummeted! Confused, her palms sweat.

“Like hell ye are,” Seamus seethed—

“Ye’re in no position to make threats.” Alexander tapped the royal summons in her brother’s hand, and Seamus’s jaw clenched so tightly, she feared he’d break a molar.

Alexander withdrew six pounds from his sporran, flicked each off his thumb, plunking them in succession off Seamus’s chest, who let each insult clink to the rushes.

His eyes finally cut to hers. In front of all these witnesses, and having been thoroughly embarrassed, Seamus couldn’t refuse. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest, for if he was choosing to compete only now, then he hadn’t come for her. He was doing it for the same reason as every other contestant. It was clear from his surprise that he hadn’t even expected to see her.

“Yer name?” Seamus demanded. “Reaper? Or Alexander?”

“Alas, I’m merely an outland orphan from the Hebrides—”

“Yer name !”

Peigi startled. Alex’s gaze flitted to her flinch and it deadened, his jaw ticked.

“Alexander Stewart, Esquire,” Alex replied evenly, stare slicing to Kendrew, then Seamus.

“A lawyer?” Seamus scoffed. “Ye expect me to accept ye with no title or knighthood?”

Alexander snapped open the parchment he’d just borrowed like a mercenary drawing a blade.

“It nay says a bloody word about title on yer invitation to sell yer sister off to the highest bidder like a prized cow and gain a pretty coin from it to bote .”

Peigi’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Was there censure there? Her plummeting heart leapt again.

“Ye can call me Sir Alexander, if it will make ye feel better.”

“Ye were nay invited, sir .” Seamus jabbed his chest.

“Nay says a word about invitation only , either.” Alexander smirked. “Read yer words. It says ten contestants total. I work in contracts, man, and this one is flimsy at best. Wish me to return to Edinburgh and inform the Lord High Treasurer ye attempt to pawn off yer debt upon an unsuspecting—”

“Enough,” Seamus fumed, stepping nose to nose with him as Peigi gasped.

“Brother?”

Gordon, Maxwell, and now Laird Ross began to grumble. “Ye attempt to dupe us all, Seamus?”

“Nay ,” Seamus fumed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “He tries to rile ye. ’Tis my vow.” His eyes lifted to Alexander, who wore that too-handsome smirk. “Fine. Ye may enter.”

Muttering broke free from the dam of silence. A decision made.

“He needs his wounds treated.” Peigi composed herself. “No one deserves to be beaten to near unconsciousness.”

“Unconscious?” Alex snorted with a chin-notch. “Ye insult a man. ’Tis chicken scratches.”

Met with sporadic laugher.

Seamus folded his arms as if he didn’t care whether his wounds festered or healed. Peigi’s cheeks heated. Men!

“This is my marriage tourney,” she finally whispered to Seamus. “Or are all marriages in our family to be spoiled with violence unless they’re yers?”