The last thing she picked up was a pair of leather sandals the cordwainer—translation: shoemaker—had made for her. They were very comfortable. The man had a true talent. Gavin had shown him her running shoes and he’d been able to fashion shoes for Greylen’s men with soles just as supportive, yet flexible. And though the materials he used were vastly different, they worked quite well. Gavin, Kevin, and Hugh had no problem pacing her.

In truth, she had no problem pacing them.

Finishing her routine, Gwen brushed her hair before tying it with one of Greylen’s leather straps. She had a drawer filled with ribbons and hair combs of her own now, but she preferred to use his things. She also had a drawer with makeup in it too. And another—okay, so she’d taken over three drawers, so what? The chest below the mirror had nine. The left side was Greylen’s; the ones in the middle contained towels, soaps, and other various toiletries; and she used the ones on the right.

Her top drawer held the makeup she’d pilfered from Lady Madelyn. It wasn’t what she was used to, but it worked. She didn’t need much but living without eyeliner—no way. And she had so much fun showing Greylen’s mother and Isabelle how to apply the subtle dark line simply by wetting the brush. She’d shocked them further by adding the powder Lady Madelyn used on her cheeks to the base of her healing ointment. It made a great lip gloss.

Modern conveniences aside, life was good. She’d never had anyone to share such things with.

Gwen smiled, remembering Gavin’s look the first time he’d seen Isabelle wearing the new makeup. Isabelle had the nerve to place her foot on the dining room chair and lift the hem of her dress as she told him what else she had learned. “Gwendolyn also showed me how to shave my legs, Gavin. I’ve become quite proficient,” she said, running her hand up and down the length of her calf. Gavin barely spoke during dinner and it took him close to an hour to act somewhat normal again.

Gwen was still smiling, thinking about that particular incident as she refastened Greylen’s medallion around her neck. She wore it all the time, even when she ran, and checked constantly to make sure it hadn’t come loose. He seemed to be all around her, but the longer Greylen was away, the more scared she was of his return.

She’d learned so much about him, but still, she barely knew the man. And worse, he didn’t know her at all. No question, she’d felt the connection they had. But what of everything else? Would it be enough? What would she do if it wasn’t?