Greylen stood atop the battlement, the very place he found himself every afternoon, watching as his wife played games with the children or walked with Isabelle. Oftentimes, he’d just stare at her as she sat on the steps reading a tome she’d found in the library or his study.

The past week had been…magical. He cursed. Magical? Good God, get a hold of yourself, man! He tried to think of another way, then cursed as he threw his hands in the air.

“Problem?”

Gavin. Damn!

“Nay,” Greylen answered. “Be on your way.”

“On my way?” Gavin laughed. “I think not. Your wife tells me you’ve been in the study. I think not again.”

“Leave, Gavin. Now.”

“As your first-in-command, I should see what has you in such a state,” he said, walking toward the outer wall.

“You’re fired. Now, be on your way.”

“Fired?”

“Aye, fired. Dismissed, relieved,” he quipped in explanation. “My wife tells me we can advertise for new men all the time.”

“Does she now?” He rolled his eyes as if not worried in the least. “I’m more than familiar with the term. Your wife threatened me with the same. Repeatedly,” he said as he continued farther out. “Speaking of your wife, would she be the fetching lass in pale green sitting atop the steps?” He leaned over.

“I could push you,” Greylen muttered.

“Aye, you could,” Gavin returned with a grin. “But then I’d fall on your beautiful wife.”

“Be gone, Gavin.” Greylen sighed.

“Shh, Bella just came outside.”

Greylen shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You can’t hear her, you fool.”

“You’re the fool, Greylen,” Gavin said as he turned again.

Greylen raised a brow, wondering if Gavin’s body would clear his wife’s if he pushed him to the left.

“Mayhap.” Gavin guessed his thought. “But is it worth the chance?”

“Don’t you have something to do?”

“Not more pressing than this.” Gavin smiled. “Speak, Greylen. What troubles you?”

“I’m not troubled, Gavin.” Damn the man—be gone already. Greylen crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at Gwen. “I’m not troubled,” he said again, this time under his breath. “I’m enamored with my wife,” he admitted with a sigh.

“And I ask you again—what is the problem?”