Page 48 of Outlaw Ever After

Alexander followed her gaze. To the maids fluffing pillows unnecessarily and ignoring her, when he hardly needed such fretting. And not a single one looked remorseful.

Irritation pitted in his gut, brimming to the surface. “Nay misplace yer anger at Seamus Grant,” he growled. Chastened, the maids gawped wide-eyed.

They looked to Joslyn, who nodded. “Ye’re dismissed.”

Curtsying, they took their leave. Thomas the groom hurried in with an armload of wood, followed by the lassie he’d spied in the hall.

“Mi laird.” The lad beamed. “Is it true what they’re saying, that ye’re the—”

“Meet my grandbairns, Sir Alexander,” Joslyn said, squaring the lad’s shoulders in front of her, and he didn’t miss how she squeezed him to silence him.

“Mi lady, are ye all right?” the lassie, Gertrude, said.

Margaret’s hands—Peigi’s, for Christ’s sake —came to rest upon Alexander’s arms as she blinked to regain her balance, and he hated that it felt like heaven. “I’m fine, Gertie,” she said, forcing a smile.

“Bollocks.” Alexander frowned. “Yer nay fine.”

“That’s what ye said in the hall, too,” Gertrude added. “When yer sister asked ye to hold her babe.”

Alexander moved her to the bed like a naughty bairn, forcing her to sit, when those amber-brown eyes looked up at him.

“Gertie, love, come help me with the pot,” Jossy said.

He folded his arms and took her in. On his bed. In what had once been his home that he had secretly hoped he might someday regain for her. The jest seemed as if it was on him in this regard.

He searched her unreadable face. How could she have such stoic expressions? He prided himself on being able to read people, and yet, she seemed camouflaged in mystery and second guesses.

What had caused this illness of which he’d just learned? And was she recovered? And why did he care when clearly, she planned to marry another?

“Truly, it was heavy and those were many stairs. I was lightheaded, ’tis all.” She pushed to her feet as his jaw ticked at her quiet defiance.

She slipped past him to lay out a bundle upon the sideboard.

“Ye argue with me?” He followed her like a husband who wasn’t finished arguing with his wife, puffing up his chest as if it would convince her to comply. It didn’t.

“Wouldst ye punish me if I am, Sir Alexander ?” she said as she unloaded the contents of her bundle.

“Shall I make ye sing?”

She whirled around at his voice so close at her back, a pair of shears in her grip and brow arched. An unexpected smile tugged up his lips to know she at least remembered that time in a greenwood that seemed like a lifetime ago and yet, just yesterday.

She reached up to touch his eye. Hesitated, as if remembering how he’d yanked away from her— This time, he snagged her hand. Gritted his teeth in anticipation of her touch as he brought that smooth palm to his cheek. Regretted jerking away from her, because like an eejit, he hated that he wanted her touch.

“Sir…Alexander. Yer name nay starts with C ,” Gertrude said. “Does that mean ye’re nay going to win?”

…

“He’s going to win, all right,” crowed Thomas.

“But his name nay starts with C ,” the girl argued.

“He’ll win!”

“But his name!”

“Both of ye, wheesht. Tommy,” Joslyn chided, “finish starting the fire.”

The bairns scampered across the chamber and Peigi stared up at his battered face.