“You mean now that you’ve all but guaranteed it,” he qualified. “Or now that she lies in my bed?”

“I meant now that she lies in your bed. I know exactly the dose I administered, and you will sleep, no doubt.”

“Gavin,” Greylen bellowed from the chair. He knew his first-in-command stood just outside the chamber, and he quickly appeared in the doorway. “It seems Lady Madelyn has seen I receive a proper rest this night. Know you anything of this?”

Gavin’s slight tick and barely suppressed smile nerved Greylen to no end, but he took his words that followed as truth.

“Nay, I was not taken into her confidence.”

“Keep our guard. Have Duncan check with the border patrols and report to you before he retires.”

Having his orders, Gavin dismissed himself, his shoulders shaking with what Greylen assumed must be merriment. The treacherous trio followed moments later.

Greylen made no move once the door was closed; truthfully, he wasn’t sure that he could.

He was beyond exhausted. ’Twas the fourth day he’d greeted with no sleep, a day of physical depletion and emotional turmoil. His barely checked adrenaline would have provided another sleepless night. Yet his mother spared him such a fate.

No longer angered and feeling something that must be calm, he moved the chair to his bedside. Bandages did nothing to diminish the woman’s looks. Good God, she was beautiful.

He remembered every inch of her skin as if it were branded into his soul, from his meticulous inspection on the shore, and as he held her on the journey back to the keep. Then as he watched her wounds tended. He’d made no comment when Anna gasped at her slender frame. No contrary rejoinder when she implied malnourishment. This woman had a body that bespoke training, sleek muscles atop fine bone structure. ’Twas perfection, and somehow, he knew that she had made it so, as sure as he knew that discipline drove her.

How long had she struggled in the water?

Had she known defeat was in sight?

Did it trouble her as much as him?

He’d not known a day of defeat until the infernal sunshine greeted him that morn, until he watched her struggle end, until she sank beneath the water’s surface.

He vowed now—he would never know it again.

That same conviction forced him to admit his pretense of detachment was swiftly fading. With each tremor that ran through her body, each murmur that came from her lips, his anger of the day—the fury she would not, in fact, come—gave way.

It continued until he stood from the chair, pulled aside the bedcovers, and lay beside her. Then he gathered her in his arms and experienced what he never had before.

Contentment.

Soft hair beneath his chin, warm breath upon his chest, and her slender form within his hands.

By God ’twas worth the wait.

The dream was always the same.

Gwen pressed deeper into the warm embrace, sighing as strong arms tightened around her. She rubbed her face in the crook of his neck, running her hand over the solid mass of back and shoulders until her fingers tangled in thick, soft hair. Large powerful hands followed her movements, pressing her closer as he cupped the back of her head and gently tilted her face.