“Play nice, boys,” Gwen teased from her perch a few days later as Greylen and his men headed outside.

Greylen stopped when he reached the doors. Turning, he called back to her, “Don’t cook tonight, love. I’ll pick up Chinese on the way home.” She smiled as he winked at her, then left to join his men.

Gwen stayed on the steps long after Greylen left. She leaned against the railing, wishing she could laugh at his comment, but she was nauseated and so dizzy that the entire stairway spun around her. She suspected she was pregnant. Oh, you’re brilliant, genius. Of course she was pregnant. She was late and had the worst case of morning sickness ever.

She couldn’t believe she had the energy to run with Greylen that morning, but she had. Now, however, all she wanted to do was go back to bed. And she did.

Anna checked on her throughout the day, bringing her tea infusions every couple of hours. Gwen started using the new brew the morning of her hangover. She’d found the mixture in one of the gift baskets from their wedding. Cook kept the canister next to the coffee beans on the island, ensuring no one else touched it. It was hers alone.

Lady Madelyn came in at some point, too, looking into her eyes and inspecting the color of her skin. “How many days have you missed your flow, Gwendolyn?” she asked, seeming confounded by the intensity of her sickness.

“Five, maybe six,” Gwen answered with a smile.

“It seems appropriate,” she said. “Your color, however, concerns me.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Gwen said, reaching for her hand. “Please don’t tell Greylen. I’d like to tell him myself, tonight.”

“Gwendolyn, if Greylen comes home before supper and you’re still abed, you’d best tell him quickly. He’ll have a fright otherwise.”

Luckily, Greylen didn’t return early, and Gwen was able to rest for the entire day. She dressed for dinner with Anna’s help and waited for Greylen in the great hall. They enjoyed a wonderful meal, but at her incessant yawning, Greylen took her upstairs.

“Gwen, are you ill, love? You barely touched your dinner?” he asked.

She smiled, then blurted out, “I’m pregnant, Greylen.”

“With child?”

“No, with a horse, you fool,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

Greylen threw his head back in laughter. He picked her up and spun her around. He must have felt her tense and quickly set her down. “I’m sorry. I only—I’m—”

“Ha. Who’s the stammering idiot now?”

“Shut up, Gwendolyn. Your husband’s going to kiss you. Quite senseless, I fear.”

She rewarded him by batting her lashes and smiling, and he did kiss her senseless…slowly, sweetly senseless…until she swayed. “You’re not well, are you?” he asked.