Punishment for fanciful notions.

Pain to ease the ache that never went away.

Barefoot and in breeches, he left his cabin and made his way above deck. The sky was alive with stars and a full moon illuminated the blackened sea. His captain stood at the ship’s helm and the few crewmen about left him to his solitude. He walked to the bow of the ship, not surprised minutes later to hear the footfall of the only man who’d dare to approach him now.

“Greylen?” Gavin, his first-in-command, asked.

“Aye?”

“We’ll make port by dawn.”

Greylen turned his head, raising a brow. “Aye, Gavin, ’tis a fact I’m already aware of.”

Gavin gave his commander a crooked smile. “Invaluable, aren’t I?”

Greylen returned the smile but refused to answer. He glanced back to the sea, silent again as he always was at the hour before dawn.

This was his second favorite place to greet the day. His first, the shore beneath the cliffs of Seagrave. ’Twas the only time he allowed himself the indulgence of images from his dreams.

The only time he thought beyond them.

“’Tis but a month away,” Gavin stated quietly, his stance the same as Greylen’s: legs braced apart and arms crossed over his chest.

“You’re a wealth of information this morn,” Greylen acknowledged with resigned sarcasm. He knew exactly what his first-in-command was referring to, but with each day that brought him closer to his thirty-third year, Greylen became more reserved.

“I’ll leave you to your peace,” Gavin offered, dismissing himself as quietly as he’d appeared.

Peace? Had he ever known it a day?

Greylen pondered the sentiment but a moment. He’d felt it briefly the day his mother summoned him. The day she’d told him of the prophecy.

But how could he face the day he’d waited for these past ten years if…if it came to naught?

Would the images go away? Those images that only came in the last hour of what restless sleep he allowed himself. Images of her…which forever haunted him.

Nay, he could never let them go.

He would always look back.

One month later

“Happy birthday, Gwen.”

Gwen smiled into the phone. She should’ve known Sara would call. “Thanks, Sara.”

“How’s Scotland? Cold? Rainy? Beautiful? Awful?”

Gwen laughed. “Scotland is perfect. A little chilly but honestly, I haven’t seen a drop of rain. How’s Mr. MacGreggor?”

“Purring away. He’s a great companion. I’m glad you let him stay with me.”

“I wouldn’t trust him with anyone else.”

“Where are you going tonight? Any handsome men catch your eye, invite you to dinner maybe?”

“Hardly,” Gwen argued with a snort, though it wasn’t truly the case. She had seen plenty of handsome men since she’d been in Scotland over the past three weeks. And, in fact, some had asked her to dinner.

“Haven’t found what you’re looking for?” Sara asked, as if reading her mind.

Bingo.

“No.” Gwen’s simple statement was emphasized with a sigh. Maybe she was crazy to think she’d find the answers here. And just what was she looking for anyway?