“Everything you witnessed is very real. And the men, women, and children of this clan live a life known to few in the Highlands. Their laird provides well and protects with honor. In return, his people work hard and live quite happily.” He paused, as if waiting for a reaction. When she didn’t reply, he continued, “Does anything else bother you?”

“You bother me, Gavin.” Well, she had to take it out on someone.

“Lady Gwendolyn, I’ve been nothing but forthright and respectful to you,” he countered.

“Forthright maybe—but respectful—yeah…” Gwen rolled her eyes.

He sneered, taking the bait. “Very well, my lady. Mayhap you should make some more outrageous requests to leave. And please, do use your acidic tongue.”

“Did you say I have an acidic tongue?” Gwen demanded in false outrage.

“Aye, you’ve a foul mouth. ’Tis the truth and you know it,” Gavin hissed. “Don’t have a tizzy as you so put it, my lady.”

“I’ll have all the damn tizzies I want, Gavin—back at the inn.”

“This is the only ‘inn’ you’ll ever know, Lady Gwendolyn. I suggest you get used to it…for you shall never leave.”

Lady Gwendolyn remained quiet as Gavin helped her back to her chamber. ’Twas a first, and he found that he missed the quickness of her comments—even those caustic in nature.

He now understood Greylen’s perplexity with her dialect. His commander, however, failed to mention the details of her foul mouth. She was actually quite entertaining when riled, and he wondered if Greylen felt the same.

He led his mistress to bed, ordering that she rest away the brandy’s effects. Then he told her he’d be outside the doors. She’d clutched his hand before he could leave. “I’m not dreaming, Gavin,” she said softly, as if saying the words aloud would somehow help.

“Nay, lady,” he agreed. “Mayhap if I told you—”

“Mayhap you could tell me anything,” she begged, cutting him off. “Please,” she added with a smile, squeezing his hand.