Page 90 of Outlaw Ever After

And now, standing along the margins of the crowded great hall, itching to pace, while stuck watching Peigi dance with her suitors like the perfect lady, as if nothing was wrong, made him want to thunder at Seamus that she should bloody well be in bed.

Unless she hadn’t told her brother of her collapse, which would be just like her to see to everyone else’s peace of mind at the expense of her own.

Seamus, across the great hall, nodded subtly at someone. Alex’s attention darted around the chamber to see whom, when he landed on Kendrew MacGregor. A moment later, Seamus slipped out the archway toward the main door.

Kendrew made a point of stretching, of jesting with a wench who’d been sidled up to him, then casually prowled the hall—tripping as his toe wedged against that paver that had been uneven since time immemorial, and glanced around to see if he’d been spotted as his ale sloshed. His eyes landed on Alex, who grinned just to piss him off. MacGregor scowled and stopped at the casks to turn the tap key and refill his tankard, before also slipping out.

Shite. Seamus suspected he was the lost Comyn heir. Had he just summoned his partner-in-crime to discuss the possibility?

Hair prickled along Alex’s nape. If the cat was truly out of the bag, then he had a plan to make to avoid capture and a skull to find immediately, for he had no men of his own to fight back should Seamus’s sheer numbers overpower him. Tormund had offered to send a small retinue with him to Edinburgh to serve him when he’d taken his new post, but he knew Tormund needed all his men and Alex had never anticipated needing extra muscle. Never thought he’d find himself embroiled in this mess of his own making.

And even though Tormund was in Edinburgh now for Arran’s peace talks and Alex could send Aulay on an errand with a request for men, Tormund would need them all should discussions turn heated, as they often did.

His kin would fight, but he couldn’t bear to put their lives at risk, knowing they’d be subjugated to punishments when they lost. Leaving would protect them all, but God, he never wanted to be apart from Peigi again.

Why string me along with yer promises when ye were intent on leaving instead?

His gaze collided with Peigi’s, her dancing on another man’s arm when it should be his, and those wide brown depths latched onto him.

He scoured his jaw.

Even if leaving might protect his kin, it would solidify every doubt she still harbored and there’d never be hope of winning back her heart.

Why was I nay good enough? Why did ye nay want to keep me? I have no honor…

He paced—

“Ye all right, man?” Laird Ross asked, eying him curiously.

He nodded, lifting his tankard in salute and taking a swallow, belying his inner turmoil.

“It’s just, ye look as if ye want to murder someone.” Ross chuckled.

He slapped Ross on the back and grinned. “Imagining what I must do to steal my bride prize away from all of yer roving hands.”

Ross laughed, oblivious to his jest being a stark truth. “She does seem to fancy ye over the rest of us. Nay fair, ye bastard.”

The tension uncoiled an inch when Peigi departed for the night. Alex could finally quit the hall. She fancied him, aye, but she feared what he might do to her fragile heart.

He climbed to his chamber, sensing boots behind him, and as he stepped into his darkened corridor, turned to see the glow of a torch wavering around the spiraling walls when Sir Donegal came into view.

The guardsman paused at being spotted, but finally nodded to Alex and climbed to the top, stepping into the corridor and affixing the torch to a bracket.

“The laird says I’m nay to leave yer side tonight. What did ye do this time to piss him off?”

“Wish to climb abed with me, man, and stay true to yer orders? A word of warning—I covet the blankets,” Alex twitched his brows playfully, “but I promise to keep ye warm.”

Donegal chuckled. The man didn’t want to dislike him. “Ye’re nay bonny enough for me, man.”

He nudged his head toward the door, motioning Alex inside.

Alex lit a taper in the torch, then did so, sliding the bar across the door, but today he’d seen most of the renovations with Seamus. He knew where to start his search for the skull:

The mantel in the laird’s solar and storage cavity.

The refurbished floorboard in the lady’s solar.

The refurbished tiles in the undercroft and pantry.