“She finds comfort with him because he allows her to be herself. They yell and slam doors. And I swear to God above, sparks fly throughout the holding when they’re about. She’s just like you, ’tis the sorry truth you make me confess. But ’twas Gavin himself who placed your medallion around her neck the first night you were gone. And ’tis Gavin who allows her to enter your study whenever she wishes. ’Tis you they both miss, Greylen. Gavin’s your most trusted companion, your truest friend, and he’s become Lady Gwendolyn’s as well.”

“Leave me,” Greylen commanded. Then he spoke without turning as he walked toward the water. “We break camp before dawn. I’ll not wait longer.”

Furious with the information he’d received, Greylen stripped his clothing and entered the lake. He swam its width twice before making his way back to shore. His anger at last under control, he secured his breeches and sat by the water’s edge recalling what Duncan had told him.

What really plagued him, he realized, was that he should be the one with Gwendolyn. That was the true heart of the matter. He knew Gavin would never betray him, nor would he jeopardize the life he’d found at Seagrave. He trusted his first-in-command with his life and his family’s as well. And Gavin took his responsibility with a seriousness that at times left him humbled.

Gavin would walk through the fires of hell before endangering his position among them. And now Greylen also knew that what Connell had said was true. Gavin did in fact pine for Isabelle—it had been so for years. He was a fool, how could he not have seen it?

Gavin had always doted on Isabelle, but over the years, he had become more distant with her. He’d stopped calling her Bella as he had since the first day he met her. And he’d ceased to chase after her when she playfully tried to gain his attention. He rarely sought the comfort of women, though they constantly tried to gain his favor. And he did so, only now, after being well into his cups, carrying the foulest of disposition for days afterward.

Why had Gavin never broached the subject with him? He of all people would understand his friend’s plight.

Was it the past he never spoke of?

Greylen knew he ran from something, though he knew not from what. He never questioned Gavin of his past, and in fact knew him only as Gavin the Brave. A more appropriate moniker could not have been. Now, however, Greylen decided ’twas time to talk to his friend. Love was indeed too precious, and if ’twas Isabelle whom Gavin sought, by God, he’d have her.