“How do you feel?” he asked, disregarding her comment.

“Your mother said the bandages could come off tomorrow.”

“I’m aware of your progress, Gwendolyn. I asked how you felt.” He said it more harshly than he intended, angered with himself for what could only be a loss of discipline on his part.

“Your mother keeps plying me with liquid painkillers,” she said, gifting him her first true smile. “You obviously have an awesome and very lenient pharmacy. And please, call me Gwen.”

“Gwen, I…” Disarmed by her smile, he truly had difficulty continuing.

“Are you going to take me back, Greylen?”

He waited a moment to answer. “Gwendolyn, you’ll not be going back.” As he looked upon her upturned face, he wondered how she could even think such a thing. There were of course still many unknowns; however, relinquishing her was not one of them. Based on his physical reaction, and attraction to her, as well as this odd internal awareness that Gwendolyn was in fact the “she” of the prophecy, the thought of “taking her back,” as she just stated, was preposterous.

“Was there a problem at the inn?” she asked, a slight puzzle to her lips. “Did they let my room go? I could have sworn I paid for two more nights.” She said the last almost as an aside, then turned her head from left to right as if considering something. “They have my credit card on file, too, Greylen.”

“I’ve not spoken with them, Gwendolyn.”

“You didn’t call?” The reprimand in her voice was unmistakable. She reached for his hand. “But you said you’d take care of it.” Her slender fingers worried over his. “What about, Sara? She’ll be concerned if I don’t check in.”

He knelt in front of her, covering her hands with his own, and he told her quite honestly, “I’ve no means to call, Gwendolyn.”

“You don’t have a phone?” she asked, sounding surprised.

Her brow furrowed above the bandages and he wished to reach out and smooth it, but instead, continued to rub her hand. “Nay, Gwendolyn. I have not a phone.”

“Not even a cell phone?”

Truly grateful she offered questions that he could seemingly answer, he repeated her words, “Not even.”

“Greylen, it’s the twenty-first century. Everyone has a cell phone.”

’Twas a statement he would remember for the rest of his years and a life of training that kept him perfectly still. While shock and curses ran through his mind at what she’d just revealed, moments later, he was smiling. Of the many reactions one might have to such a statement, what he felt most was relief. Gwendolyn was his. This beautiful creature he’d plucked from the waters was in fact his. “Gwen…” Gwen what? Holy mother of God—glad tidings aside—what?

“Did you lose power? Did the storm wipe out the lines or something?” she asked before he could continue.

Bless the woman for making it so easy. “Or something would suit,” Greylen implied.

“Well, I guess I’m stuck here.”