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But his smile had vanished. In fact, Gillian had never seen such an expression on his face before.

“Graeme, is all well?”

Clearly, it was not. Even though he tried to smile, something had changed him.

“Of course,” he said, unconvincingly.

“Ours is quite similar,” Allie said again, oblivious to Graeme’s distress.

“Is it now?” he asked politely. “Tell me of it. Perhaps I can decipher its meaning.”

As her sister and her husband spoke amiably, Gillian thought of the sudden change in Graeme’s expression. What could possibly have come over him to warrant it?

She looked at the tapestry again.

Was it something there? Another meaning behind it, perhaps?

Well, she would find out soon enough. As soon as the meal was finished, Gillian would make her excuses to Allie so she could learn what exactly had so discomfited her husband. And then she would talk to him about their agreement.

And afterward . . . Gillian smiled in anticipation.

* * *

He wasn’t coming.

Graeme had said he needed to speak to the armorer after dinner. Allie, tired from her travels, had gone to her bedchamber, and so Gillian had returned to her own room after a quick visit with Fiona. Morgan had assisted her with her gown, and she paced the empty bedchamber now, waiting for Graeme.

How much time had passed? Eventually, she crawled into the empty bed and waited there. When it became evident Graeme would not be returning, Gillian simply could not lie still. She turned on her side, and then her back, and then her other side. She slammed her eyes shut, wishing sleep would take her so that she could stop worrying. It did not heed her.

Finally, unable to lie still, Gillian jumped back out of the bed, grabbed a candle in its stand, and scurried down the corridor to her sister’s bedchamber. After tapping on the door, she pushed it open and entered the room.

“Allie?”

The room was dark but for a brazier in the corner of the room. Gillian smiled. Both she and her sister loved to fall asleep by firelight, regardless of the time of year.

“Allie?” she called again.

“Gill, is that you?”

She’d already been asleep.

Gillian put down the candle and made her way to the bed. She felt along the edge and carefully lowered herself onto it.

“I can hardly see you,” Allie said. “What’s wrong?”

That was the problem. “I don’t know.”

She told her everything that had happened between her and Graeme, from their first meeting to his odd behavior at dinner.

“He seemed perfectly pleasant, Gill.”

“But he has never not come to me at night. We’ve always had that, from the start. Even when all else seemed so uncertain.”

“Then why did you take it away?”

That was the very question she’d been asking herself all evening. “As I told Graeme, we hardly had a chance to get to know each other before we married. I thought perhaps—”

“Being less intimate was a way for you to get to know him better?”