Gwen couldn’t believe the way Isabelle spoke. It wasn’t the conviction in her voice that bothered her. It was the complacency she heard, like Isabelle was bored with a topic that had worn out its welcome. But if all that had happened were true, Gwen knew, Greylen’s life was on the line every day. The thought was terrifying.

“How did you lose your handsome guard?” Isabelle asked. “You never told me.”

“I di—” She tried to finish, but Isabelle interrupted her.

“He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” she said wistfully, then quickly changed her mind. “Nay—he’s the most insufferable, perplexing man ever,” she rushed with a frustrated laugh. “No matter how I try, he treats me always as his laird’s…” Isabelle’s expression changed as if she’d never spoken of it aloud. The revelation must have come as a hard blow because her barely whispered words were filled with hurt when she continued. “Gwendolyn…he no longer treats me as such. In company he’s respectful, but when alone, ’tis more…like I’m a bother. I always thought—oh, Gwendolyn, I should have seen it soon—”

“Good morn, Isabelle,” Gavin called from the chair by the fire. His tone was curt.

Isabelle went rigid at Gavin’s words. Her anguish was clear only to Gwen as she continued to face her. “Good morn, Gavin,” she returned quietly.

Gwen couldn’t help but be impressed. The way Isabelle held herself together was amazing. “I’m sorry, Isabelle,” Gwen whispered. “I tried to tell you sooner, but you wouldn’t let me finish.” Gwen felt awful now that she hadn’t stopped her, but she’d been so surprised by what Isabelle was saying. She had assumed that Gavin returned Isabelle’s feelings. Was she the only one who saw it? Was she wrong?

Isabelle finally sat up and looked toward Gavin. “Gavin, did you show Gwendolyn the study or library yet?” she asked.

“Nay, think you she’d like to see them?”

“Of course she would,” Isabelle said quietly, stepping from the bed.

Gwen shot Gavin a nasty look and mouthed “be nice,” pointing her finger in accusation while Isabelle fussed with the bedcovers. Then, as if the exchange with Gavin hadn’t taken place, Gwen asked, “What are you two talking about?”

Gavin stood and walked to them. “Come, we’ll show you,” he offered.

“I’ll get something for you to cover yourself with, Gwendolyn, ’tis too early to dress.”

As Isabelle walked to the bathroom, Gwen watched Gavin stare at her. She wore a beautiful white satin nightgown and matching robe tied low around her neck.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gwen hissed.

Gavin’s head snapped in her direction. “Pardon?”

“Don’t act stupid, Gavin. If you hurt her, I swear—”

“I’d sooner die than hurt her.”

“You’re a little late, Gavin, you already have.”