Isabelle lay before the fire as Gwendolyn had instructed. Then her sister-in-law showed her all of the ways to work the muscles of one’s abdomen. Isabelle wanted to kill her brother. Dear Lord, these exercises were painful. Especially with someone like Gwen, who seemed to enjoy the exertion and the—sweet mother of God—burn as she called it. She’d burn the whole castle down if she had to do this again. An hour later she finally left, barely able to walk to her chamber. She closed the door and slid helplessly to the floor as Greylen and Gavin waited for her to speak.

Her voice was hoarse when she did. “I do not like to exercise,” she whined, not at all sorry for her pitiful behavior. Then she grinned. “But, brother, your wife surely does. Once she started, I swear she couldn’t stop. I’ve never done any of those things, and she’d not let me stop. Have you any idea how many ways there are to do sit-ups?” she asked. “Too many! And when I could do no more, she had to show me how to do squats and lunges. I shan’t walk for a week.”

Greylen picked up his sister and twirled her in the air. “Thank you, Isabelle,” he said before placing her down again and turning to Gavin. “You know what to do?” Greylen asked. With Gavin’s nod, he left the room.

That night as Greylen lay in bed with Gwen, she snuggled against him. Snuggled. She didn’t just lie in his arms as he held her, she snuggled him, and he heard her sigh. ’Twas something his wife had done so often before, but not since she’d been taken. His eyes misted in response and he had to turn her so she wouldn’t notice. He wrapped her body with his and slept as he hadn’t in weeks.

The next morning, he awoke early and stepped up his plan. He crept from their bed and went to the fire, sitting as close as possible. He sat there till he could take no more. He went back to bed and pulled Gwen against him. She stirred from his heat immediately, turning and covering his forehead with her hand, as he pretended to sleep.

“Greylen, you’re so warm,” she whispered. Her hand moved, replaced by her lips before she pressed her cheek to his. She repeated it—twice.

Good God, how many ways would the woman check to determine he was warm?

She shot from the bed, returning seconds later. She sat beside him and placed a wet cloth on his forehead. When she ran her fingers through his hair, he slowly opened his eyes.

She looked at him with concern. “Greylen, you’re very warm. Does anything bother you?”