Gwen wasn’t scared at all of having more children, and in fact, her strength returned quickly. Lady Madelyn took over her duties of seeing to the keep and, other than nursing their son, Gwen really didn’t have any responsibilities. Anna always kept her chamber in impeccable order and there were so many helping hands she was actually quite rested, despite waking every two hours to feed her demanding son.

Three nights after Tristan’s birth, she awoke alone. She looked throughout the room cast in a glow of firelight, but Greylen and Tristan were nowhere to be seen.

She wasn’t sure why she got out of bed and walked to the window, but something compelled her. The full moon shone brightly that night and she saw him immediately, her husband standing on the cliff’s edge. His dark hair blew in the breeze, his arms stretched toward the sky. Their son in the palms of his hands, as if showing him to the gods.

It was a sight she would always remember. She stepped back as he turned, leaving this moment just for him. He returned a short time later and placed Tristan back in his cradle before joining her. Then he pulled her in his arms as she pretended to sleep. She listened to his Gaelic whispers, understanding everything he said. He thanked the gods for her and his son and he vowed to love and protect them for all eternity.

As the days passed, she began taking short walks and joining the family for meals in the great hall. In the afternoons, she stayed in the library, or, if Greylen was working in his study, she sat there with him.

It was on one of those afternoons as she sat on the window seat that his men presented him with a gift. They had gathered around the table and handed Greylen a wrapped package. He opened it and removed a jersey that they had one of the servants fashion. She learned later that Anna had refused to make it.

It was a jersey, identical to the one she had made for him, but when he turned it to look at the back, he fixed them with a furious stare. His men were laughing so hard their hands beat on the tabletop.

“What is it, Greylen?” she asked, puzzled by his reaction.

He turned it for her to see. She laughed so hard tears rolled from her eyes.

“You find this humorous?” he demanded, but he was smiling, too, and even laughed himself.

The jersey had large white letters on the back, but it wasn’t his name that was sewn on it. No, it read Midwife.

“They have a point, husband,” she choked out. “Now you’ll have something to wear for my next delivery.”

“Nay.” He scoffed. “Gavin shall be the next,” he said, turning to his first-in-command. “You’ll wear it to deliver your own children.”