Gavin reached for his hair, a habit that became worse over the ensuing days.

Gwen couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking of the things that happened this morning. Not only what she’d seen, but also her conversation with Gavin. How could it possibly be true? It was crazy.

It was, wasn’t it?

She knew she wasn’t dreaming or trapped in unconsciousness and lying in a hospital bed. Nope, she had to give that one up. She was one of the most rational people she knew. Okay, so it was a conceited thought. But, damn it, objective rationalization had gotten her through life. At least that’s what she told herself.

If this was real, if somehow she was in a different time… She started laughing. She couldn’t believe she was rationalizing that. But she had to. Didn’t she?

She hadn’t seen any phones earlier. No outlets or anything else for that matter that could be considered modern. And the scene in the courtyard added credence to everything else. Then there was the way Greylen and his family held themselves, their speech, their clothing, their formality.

Where was Greylen, damn it? She missed him. No, she needed him. Two days in the man’s presence and she felt a connection so deep it was astounding.

And he left her.

She must have dozed off for a while, and when she awoke, she called to Gavin. He answered from the area by the fire. “Please call me Gwen. I can’t stand this ‘lady’ stuff.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Gavin said, approaching the bed. “Come, I’ll show you the holding.”

She smiled. What the hell? “May I have a few minutes?”

“Take all the time you need, Lady Gwendolyn,” he said purposely, grinning at her dramatic sigh.

Once inside the bathroom, Gwen took her time. She went to the mirror and placed her hands on the chest. First things first. “Well, what do we do now, oh smart one?” she asked, staring at her reflection. “No quick answer, huh? Yeah, I didn’t think so, brainless, and your hair’s a mess.”

She opened the drawers of the chest to look for a brush. Her breath caught. Greylen’s shaving tools lay inside. She picked up the round bar of soap and inhaled its sandalwood scent. A short-handled lathering brush with thick, soft bristles and a long blade with a wooden handle lay next to it. There was even a stone for when it became dull.