Gwen walked along the paths that led to the cottages. She stopped several times to talk to the women who were going about their duties. She knew most of them by name now. She inquired of their families and always took the time to ruffle their children’s hair or hold one of the babies that reached out to her. She asked Kevin again if his leg was all right and he continued to assure her he was fine, each time looking over his shoulder as if to make sure no one had overheard them.

When Gwen started for the chapel, Kevin stopped her midstep. “Lady Gwendolyn, you’re unable to visit today,” he said, placing his hand on her arm.

“Why not?” she asked.

“’Tis being repaired, lady.”

“What on earth’s being repaired? It was fine yesterday.”

“Father Michael noticed water seeping through the floor, lady. ’Twill be fixed on the morrow.”

“Fine.” Gwen sighed. Then she added in a mutter, “’Tis a sorry day indeed.”

Gwen spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon in the garden behind the keep. She would have gone inside but everyone seemed completely occupied today. So instead, she wrote in her journal and watched the waves crash upon the shore.

Isabelle loved to tell her stories of the early-morning ritual she and Greylen enjoyed. Apparently, they used to sneak out of the keep just before dawn. Then they’d run along the beach and climb the rocks as they watched the sunrise. It was a habit Greylen still kept, though Isabelle confided she’d stopped accompanying him long ago, sensing his need to be alone as he walked the shore and looked to the sea.

Gwen hadn’t been down to the shore yet. Gavin and Isabelle had offered to take her many times, and truthfully, she would have loved to see it, but she was scared. It wasn’t the narrow paths or the steep descent that worried her. It was the water itself. She had no desire to tempt fate. She had come here in those waters—and she’d not let them take her back.

Disappointed that Isabelle never came for her that afternoon, Gwen waited until she knew Gavin would be in the study. She needed to run more than ever, and her frustration was reaching its peak.

“Good afternoon, very kind sir,” Gwendolyn said sweetly from the doorway.

“Aye, ’tis a fine day indeed, Lady Gwendolyn.” He smiled, waving her inside. “Your tone, however, is much too compliant. It makes me wonder what you might be wanting?”

She laughed aloud. “Oh, Gavin, I have a feeling you know exactly what I want.”

“Might that make me fortunate or not—that I know you so well, lady?”

“You’ll have to tell me,” she replied with a small smile.

“’Tis a fortune—and you know it.” His tone had become very serious, as if somehow saddened.