During the day, Gwen spent time with Lady Madelyn, and walked along the paths throughout the holding and those around the keep. She visited the chapel, as well, and Greylen’s men always gave her privacy to seek her solace alone. She met Father Michael and liked him at once. He was a wise man, old in years, and he often prayed with her. They spoke of the loneliness she’d felt with her family. The happiness she found in what she now assumed as her home. And Father Michael continued to assure her that if she was true to her heart, God’s plan could only follow.

She almost laughed in his face the first time he’d said it. But she hoped he was right. She loved it here. She loved Isabelle, Lady Madelyn, Anna, and Gavin. And she loved Seagrave and all of its people. She’d finally found a home, a place where she belonged.

And it was worth everything she had to give up.

She missed Sara, but she had her bracelet, the gift that Sara had made for her. She missed Mr. MacGreggor, too, but she knew that he’d be loved and cared for. She missed alligator clips, blue jeans, and tacos. Well, she missed a lot of things. But they weren’t things that she needed. Honestly, she had everything she needed. Except for Greylen.

He was constantly on her mind, especially when she sat behind the keep. The view from atop the cliffs became one of her favorites, and she stayed there in the afternoons. There were benches and flower gardens, and she loved discovering her way through the endless passages within.

Isabelle remained by her side most of the time and left only to join her tutor, who came in the afternoons to see to her studies and lessons on the harpsichord. Gavin could always be found in Greylen’s study before supper, and she would join him, poring through the volumes of Greylen’s books while she sat on the settee.

One afternoon she was elated to find empty journals along one of the shelves and asked Gavin if she might use one. He showed her how to dip the quill in ink, his surprise obvious when she’d used her left hand.

“I know, Gavin, he’s a lefty too. I could tell from the letter he wrote to me.”

“Would you like to sit at the desk, my lady?”

“Nay, Gavin, I’ll use the window seat instead.” They exchanged a look when she answered, but she didn’t correct her words. She was becoming more like them every day.