TWENTY-FIVE
Grieve cursed his clumsiness with words, and with women. For a moment there, it seemed they'd shared the same thoughts, and then it had all gone wrong. Was he supposed to say he heartily approved of their fathers' plot? That couldn't be right – she had made it very clear that she would follow her own heart, not her father's plans.
He scarcely paid attention as she showed him the other three watchtowers and the harbour, introducing him to everyone they met. He smiled and nodded and shook hands, accepting more cups of ale than was good for him.
More than once, he'd had to take a trip into the bushes, to Rhona's amusement.
On the third such detour, she'd waited until he'd climbed back onto his horse before she said, "At least you gave me a show of your own this time. 'Tis a
