“Can’t what, Gwen? What’s upset you?” he yelled as she continued up the stairs to their chamber.

She paced the floor, wringing her hands. Then she stood in the center of their room and stared at him in a way she never looked at him before. She began shaking her head again.

“I’m going for a run,” she said, looking to the floor.

“’Tis dark, Gwen, and you’ve had three glasses of wine,” he reminded her. “You’ll go nowhere.”

“You don’t understand, Greylen,” she yelled, looking up once again. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta get out of here.” She turned to the bathing chamber, clothes flying once she stepped inside. Everything from the chest emptied as she searched without reason. Then she dropped to the floor, rummaging through the pile. Her entire body shook as she removed her gown, the bodice ripped in her haste. She re-dressed in her running clothes, then stood panting, her hands fisted so tight her knuckles were white.

Good God his wife was going to blow.

He kept his voice calm and made no move to approach her. “Gwendolyn, come by the fire, love,” he called softly. As she walked past him, he shouted, “You’re not leaving.”

“Watch me!”

Afraid to upset her further, he followed her to the steps. He realized she meant to go outside. “Gavin,” he bellowed, “the door.”

Gavin jumped to his orders, barely in time. Gwen moved quickly, but Greylen was just a second behind. He watched in fascination as Gwen stood before Gavin, fixing him with a stare Greylen had seen before—his. Good God, but if looks could kill. She spoke then, words Greylen knew she meant for him but were thrown in Gavin’s face instead. “Fine, I’ll use the stairs.”

Furious, Greylen entered the great hall. “Come, my wife provides entertainment.” He clapped. Then he sat in the entryway with his mother and Isabelle while Duncan and Gavin stood sentinel at the doors. The entire time, Gwen never looked at him. She raced the stairs at least twenty times, all but trying to kill herself, her pace was so fast.

She knelt when she reached the landing that time and banged on the stone with her hands. She came down the stairs again and looked only at Gavin. Breathless, she walked to him and reached for his hand. Then she backed him to the open foyer, begging him with her look.

“Gwendolyn, nay.” Gavin shook his head at her. “Not now—not here.”

Gwen shook visibly, her eyes pleading. Greylen watched intently, at least clear in this, Gavin knew whom not to serve. Confirming his thoughts, Gavin looked at him as if silently beseeching forgiveness. For what, Greylen knew not.

“NOW,” Gwen shouted, obviously angered that Gavin wavered.