During the first two months of his banishment, he’d tracked Malcolm. However, he lost his trail as his brother hid within the forest and later, somehow, secured passage to parts unknown. He couldn’t return to Seagrave and instead went to England, where he stayed with his mother’s family.

As wonderful as his homecoming had been, ’twas not the home he wanted. Holding on to some ill-begotten hope that one day he would return to Scotland, and refusing to do so as a MacFale, he petitioned his king to recognize his name as Montgomery, the name of his mother. Upon receiving written word of his ruler’s acceptance, he found a sliver of peace. He was no longer tainted with a name that held only bitterness and sorrow. That same missive, however, also commanded he return to Seagrave.

Gavin took the order seriously, knowing he’d face his death at the hand of the one person he wished more than anything had been his true brother. But he’d meet his fate nobly and with no regret. Greylen had given him years that he had only dreamed of. And, in light of his imminent demise, he decided to pass his lands and monies to Isabelle. Had things been different, they would have been hers anyway.

He spent the following three weeks documenting the passing of his worldly possessions to Isabelle, securing passage aboard a ship and the long ride home.

Somewhere along the way, his hope began to build. He heard during his journey MacGreggor ships had been sent to his estates, men in search of the first-in-command of a mighty Highland laird. Then, as he passed through the lands toward Seagrave, he was greeted with only smiles and nods, and a few times, an occasional word that “MacGreggor would at last have peace for Gavin the Brave was back.”

Gavin finally nudged his mount forward, his eyes on Greylen and Gwendolyn, who awaited his approach. He stopped when he reached the center of the courtyard and dismounted before handing the reins to James. “Sir, ’tis good to have you home again,” the stable master told him with a nod.

Gavin closed his eyes. Could it be true? Could he possibly be welcomed?

He looked to Greylen as he began walking. Just to see him alive and well was enough if this was, indeed, to be his end. Those thoughts, however, were soon replaced with something else. Greylen’s look held no disgust and Gwen wore only a smile, squeezing her husband’s hand before Greylen started walking too.

His commander approached him as never before. His look pained, though not with anger. He looked different to Gavin, older, but not from the gray now in his hair. ’Twasn’t agedness that made him appear so. ’Twas a change within.

God, how he had missed him.