Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

OCTAVIAN SPENT MOST of the evening giving the local constable information about Sir Henry and his obsessive desire for Syd. He also relented for the sake of Syd and arranged for the constable to send out a search party for her father. He supposed it made sense to send this constable and his men down immediately rather than merely sending word to the Gretna Green authorities. This constable had seen the damage caused by Sir Henry and might search more diligently because of it.

He still felt this was a big concession to Syd. However, she was so worried her father was sill alive but too injured to seek help for himself, that he could not find it in his heart to deny her.

As they were about to return to their bedchamber, Syd implored the constable not to give up the search until his men had found her father.

"Aye, m'lady. I assume there's to be a reward for the safe recovery of the earl?" the man asked.

"Yes," Octavian said in resignation, knowing it would be coming out of his pocket. He had already agreed to pay the entire cost of the search, so what was a little more tossed in as a reward?

He tried not to show his irritation, but Syd was no fool and understood what the heavy air of his silence meant. They had been married only a few hours and he was already piling up expense on top of expense to save the undeserving man. Octavian had already agreed to pay her father's debts to Sir Henry. Now it was costing him the cost of a search party and a reward.

Syd had asked nothing for herself.

Could she not see her father was a worthless leech who sucked the life and coin out of everyone he touched? In truth, Octavian would not be surprised if he was not hurt at all and merrily cheating his way back to London. The man was a master at avoiding harm to himself while piling it on others.

Unfortunately, Syd did not see it the same way. "I do not see why we cannot return to Gretna Green and search along with the others. We are the only ones who know what he looks like."

"We've given the constable a good description, and any of the Armstrongs will be able to identify him, assuming they are still in the area. That is enough."

"It isn't nearly enough," Syd muttered, allowing herself to stew and worry with renewed fervor now that they were back in their guest chamber. The tub had been rolled out sometime while the chaos and interrogations had taken place downstairs, so Octavian did not even have the chance to bathe.

The tub itself, or lack thereof, was not the point.

He resorted to obtaining fresh water to refill the ewer and scrubbed himself clean with a damp cloth. Using the last of the fresh water, he washed his hair. Since Syd had taken their one comb to brush out her long tresses, he merely used his fingers to rake through the wet strands of his own and brush them off his face.

As if this was not bad enough, Octavian watched with mounting irritation as she set out a pallet for herself beside the hearth in their already cramped quarters.

Well, it could have been worse.

She could have demanded separate rooms.

"Great," Octavian muttered. "You're still angry because I am refusing to return to Gretna Green even though I am now paying through the nose to find your father?"

Syd said nothing, merely continued to set out her pallet.

What a way to spend their wedding night.

Her father had once again managed to interfere with his daughter's happiness and his own, Octavian thought with some resentment. Even if he and Syd were in a make-believe marriage, were they not entitled to a wedding night? This would have been their chance to warm up to each other. Of course, he was not going to claim her without her willingness. But there were so many other ways they could have enjoyed each other and experienced intimacy.

"Syd, don't do this. Come to bed, please." He had removed his boots and clothing, leaving only his trousers on. She had allowed him to untie the hooks and laces of her gown, and now wore only her shift.

He was glad she had disrobed instead of piling clothes on herself and buttoning them to her throat.

Was this not a hopeful sign?

"The proprietor shot Sir Henry," Syd replied, sounding pained. "He did not give us the chance to ask what he had done with my father."

"Sir Henry, when attacking you , told you that your father would eventually make his way back to London. Were these not his exact words?"

She nodded. "How is that helpful? What did he mean? Did he kill my father? Is he dead? Is he injured and unable to move? Will he make his way home in a coffin? Is this what he meant by eventually ?"

"I think Sir Henry would have told you outright if he had killed him, Syd. This is how his sordid mind worked, taking pleasure in another's pain. He would not have spared you the anguish. In fact, it would have heightened his pleasure even as he…it makes me ill just thinking of what he might have done to you."

He groaned and continued. "A search party is being put together as we speak, including hunting dogs. They'll find your precious father if he is anywhere in the vicinity of Gretna Green. I've arranged payment for a full search and spared no expense. Your presence or mine will not make a difference. In fact, it will complicate it."

"Because of the risk of encountering the Armstrongs? So you've mentioned several times already."

"I only mention it because you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge its importance."

She shook out her blanket. "Well, that is me. Isn't it? Stubborn. Unyielding. Infuriating."

He sighed. "Good night, Syd. Join me in bed if you change your mind."

Not that she would.

The blasted girl was too stubborn by half.

Octavian was still awake an hour later, grinding his teeth and debating whether to put Syd in the bed and move himself onto the pallet, when he heard a stirring and suddenly felt her slip into bed beside him. "Syd?"

She sniffled.

He held out his arms to her.

She nestled in them without hesitation. "Do not make too much of this. There are mice scurrying on the floor."

"All right." He knew there were no mice. This establishment was meticulously clean. "Sweet dreams, love."

She let out long, ragged breath. "Thank you, Octavian. I'm so sorry I got angry with you. I know you aren't to blame for any of this. You've been far more generous than I or my father deserve. I just feel so frustrated and helpless. The strain has worn me down. But I could not fall asleep knowing I had been so terribly unfair to you. I'm glad you are awake because I need to apologize to you." She told him again how sorry she was. "Will you let me stay in your arms?"

"Always, Syd."

"I'm so tired," she whispered. "And cold."

"I know, love. I'll keep you warm." It was surprising how rapidly he fell asleep now that she was in his arms.

Never mind the possibility of sex.

That was not happening tonight short of a bolt of lightning from the heavens delivering a miracle.

But having Syd curled up beside him was enough to satisfy Octavian.

That she had come to him of her own accord meant everything, even if she blamed it on non-existent mice.

The inn was shrouded in mist by the time dawn broke, but Octavian knew the sun would come out soon and burn away the haze of gray. Syd was sleeping peacefully, her body wrapped around his so that it took him a while to ease out of her grasp and cross the small room to peer out the window.

He bumped his head as he stood by the window and emitted a muffled curse.

Syd stirred and opened her eyes.

He returned to her side and sat on the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

She cast him a smile as sweet as heaven. "I heard the thunk as your head struck the wooden beam. Does it hurt? Shall I have a look at it?"

"No, it's fine. Go back to sleep, if you like. It's early yet. Mr. Henshaw won't bring the carriage around for another two hours."

Syd shook her head and sat up beside him, trying to stifle her yawn. "Should we not get an early start?"

"After last night's ordeal? No, I did not want to rush you." He let out a groaning breath suddenly. "Syd, I did not even think to ask Mr. Douglas to give us a different room. How thoughtless of me. Why did you not say something?"

"It wasn't necessary. Nothing happened in here other than my hitting Sir Henry over the head with a fire iron. A change of rooms would not have mattered since I was most upset about my father, not myself."

He gave her rosy cheek a light caress. "You need to think more about yourself and less about others…except me, of course," he added with a grin. "Feel free to worship and adore me to your heart's content."

She laughed. "Do I have a choice? You are not an easy man to ignore."

He wanted to give her a light kiss on the brow, but decided to let her make the first moves. If she wanted affection, she had only to say so and he was willing to reciprocate. But he did not dwell on it long because he heard voices in the courtyard and was curious to know who was up and about.

He rose and walked over to the window once again to peer out of it. "Young Matthew Douglas and his brothers. Now Matthew is walking to the stable. Syd, should he be walking around this soon?"

She scrambled out of bed and joined him by the window. "Yes, he can so long as he does not undertake any physically strenuous duties. I don't think his mother would have allowed him to step out of his room if she did not think he was fit enough. It is a good sign that he is too restless to remain in bed.

"Something I would like to do," Octavian muttered, and then sighed. "I'll give you a moment alone to tend to your necessaries. Shall I send a maid up to assist you to dress?"

"All right, although you do a commendable job of putting me together. I would rather have your touch, but will understand if you have had enough of me."

What he would rather do was a commendable job of getting her out of her clothes and showing her the sins of pleasure.

Perhaps tonight, assuming Syd was willing.

He ached to put his hands and lips on her sweet body.

But she was now bustling around the room and organizing their belongings. She appeared eager to get on the road, so there was not going to be anything amorous happening now. Not that he wanted to take her in this room, not after Sir Henry had come after her in here.

New place, new memory.

Or he could wait until they arrived in Greenock and settled in.

Since Octavian already had his trousers on, he tossed on the rest of his uniform and donned his boots. "Shall I order breakfast delivered up here for us, Syd? Ouch!" He winced as he bumped his head against another of those infernal, low ceiling beams.

"I don't think it is safe for you in here." She stifled a laugh but could not hold back another of her beautiful smiles. "Let's eat downstairs."

They had a filling meal, although Octavian noted that Syd merely picked at her food. He left it alone because urging her not to worry about her father would only serve to make her worry all the more.

After finishing his meal, he left Syd in the company of Mrs. Douglas, the two ladies sharing a pot of tea, while he went with their eldest son to seek out the constable and make certain his search party was assembled and ready to ride south. The constable had only three men and two dogs with him. "Can't bring more men," the constable explained. "Our clan feuds are long over, but the Armstrongs will be alarmed if I ride into their territory with a small army."

Octavian nodded. "I understand."

"Will yer wife?" he asked, arching a bushy eyebrow.

Octavian groaned lightly. "Probably not, but she's mine to worry about. I appreciate all you are doing for us. She does, too."

Syd had their bags packed and in their carriage by the time Octavian returned. He saw her walking out of the stable just as he reached the inn's courtyard. "I wanted to see Matthew one last time and remind him not to overdo it," she explained.

"How is he?"

She smiled. "Good as new, but I dare not tell him so because he will overdo it and strain himself by returning to his full duties far too soon."

They were on the road by midmorning and traveled north for the next two days, arriving in Greenock on the second evening in a light rain. Since Octavian had been to this Scottish town several times before, he knew of a good inn where they could settle for the night. If Syd liked the place, he would have them stay for the next few days, and possibly for the remainder of their stay. He did not expect this visit to last longer than two or three weeks before they headed to the Glasgow shipyards and then eventually home to London.

It did not take them long to reach the Seafarer's Inn.

Octavian made certain Syd was comfortably settled, and then left her behind to unpack their meager belongings while he reported to the commanding officer. The town had originally been nothing but a row of houses along the harbor, only recently becoming a center of activity for the sugar trade and shipbuilding industry. His assignment was to assess the potential for building navy battle-ready vessels here as well as in the port city of Glasgow, which had an established shipbuilding industry and would likely be awarded the lion's share of the work.

If Syd was willing, he would take her along with him on his expeditions around the area. First on his list was to learn all he could about the depth of the waters in and around the Greenock harbor. He knew it was deep enough for most vessels, but the naval fleet required battleships much larger than a standard merchant schooner. The keel had to clear all shoals and other obstructions as the ship sailed in and out of port.

If the harbor wasn't deep enough, he would have to assess the cost of enlarging it and determine whether the time, men, and materials necessary to make it work was worth the effort. Finding able workers was not the problem. Too many Scots were unemployed and desperate to find a means to make a living wage. Labor, in more than adequate supply, could be had at a reasonable cost. Whether the proper materials could be found close by was another matter.

Since it was already well past suppertime, Octavian knew his meeting with the fort commander would be a short one tonight, merely to advise him of his and Syd's arrival. Tomorrow was Friday, so he had only to officially report to duty in the morning. Right on time, and just as planned.

The commander, an older gentleman with a shock of white hair and a jovial disposition, greeted him warmly. "Captain Thorne, good to see you again. Come in out of the rain. Come in!"

"How are you, Commodore Wainright?"

"I could do with a warmer, drier climate. But no complaints, otherwise." Wainright gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Are you settled in at the fort? Have you had your supper, lad?"

Octavian shook his head. "I've settled at the Seafarer's Inn and will return there for a bite to eat shortly. I'm here with my wife, so we'll either remain at the inn for the few weeks necessary to complete my duties, or we'll find a suitable short-term accommodation."

"Your wife?" Wainright's eyes widened and he smiled in obvious delight. "When did this happen? I had no idea you were courting a young lady. In fact, to hear you talk when you were last here a few months ago, one would think you weren't going to marry for another five years."

Octavian cast the man a sheepish look. "You must have thought I was a fool."

"Not at all, lad. Not at all." Abner Wainright had been happily married for decades until his wife passed away last year. Octavian had met the woman several years earlier and enjoyed watching the pair together. He would best describe them as old lovebirds, for they fussed and cooed on each other with a charming ease. Their affection for each other was sincere but never cloying. Watching them was a revelation, for it seemed as though they were each a natural extension of the other.

He ached for this same ease with Syd.

Yes, he wanted passion, too.

But he also wanted the comfortable familiarity that came with complete trust in each other and an unbreakable bond of love.

Lord, he and Syd had a long way to go to achieve this.

They spoke for a short while, exchanging pleasantries before Octavian politely excused himself. "I've left my wife at the inn. She's awaiting me for supper."

Wainright rose along with him. "Dine with me tomorrow night, you and Mrs. Thorne. I'm eager to meet this paragon who has stolen your heart. You cannot make mention of her without smiling, so do not think to deny it is a love match."

Octavian smiled. "Yes, she certainly has my heart."

Usually, she had his heart twisted in knots because she was often too fearless.

But he was not about to discuss all the ways Syd overset him.

Still, he loved her for those very strengths that also tended to rile him.

Could it count as a love match if he was the only one in love? Well, Syd might feel the same, but she was not ready to admit it to him or to herself yet. Perhaps in time. He was hopeful of it, but it was no sure thing. "Until tomorrow," he said and stepped out into a heightening wind and a pattering rain.

He hurried back to the inn which was not very far from the commodore's residence. Nothing was far in this small town. Syd was just coming down the stairs when he strode in. She hurried toward him as he shook off the dampness like a dog might do after a swim.

She giggled and skittered back a few steps. "You might have warned me!"

"Sorry, Syd. It's damn wet out there." He shook off the last of the rain as he asked about her. "You must be hungry. Did I keep you waiting too long?"

"No, not at all. But I will admit that I am glad you are back. Oh, but your uniform is still soaked. Take off your jacket and I'll hang it up to dry in our room. Did all go smoothly?"

"Yes, most pleasant." He grinned as she fussed over him, and allowed her to unbutton his jacket for him before he shrugged out of it. But he merely set it near the warming fire in the common room for now. Several men were at the bar, and others were seated at tables eating and enjoying an ale or a stronger libation. "The commodore has invited us to supper tomorrow evening."

"Oh, that is lovely. Tell me about your visit with him as we eat. You look hungry, and I think you shall expire if you have to wait another moment for a meal. Me, too. I'm famished. I spoke to Mr. MacLean earlier," she said, making mention of the innkeeper. "Lamb stew is on offer for tonight. Doesn't it smell heavenly?"

"Yes, it's making my mouth water." They settled at a quiet corner table and gave the innkeeper their order. Octavian then ordered an ale for himself while Syd ordered a cup of tea. "Are you cold, Syd?"

She shrugged. "Just a little. I thought I could get away with Adela's borrowed gowns, but the fabrics are too light for this climate. It is quite cool up north, even if only early autumn. I'll need a woolen shawl to get me through the days and nights."

"Not just a shawl," he said with a frown. "There's a seamstress in town. I'll walk you over to her shop before I start my official duties in the morning. I think you'll need two sturdy gowns at a minimum, in addition to your shawl. Wool stockings, too. Might not be a bad idea to purchase a wool blanket for us while you are shopping."

"How long do you think we will be in Greenock? I dare not go on a spending binge. I think I've been too much of a burden for you already." Her face paled a little. "It is now sinking in just how much my father is costing you, and I am appalled. His debt to Sir Henry alone was bad enough, but to add a reward and the costs of a search party…I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you somehow."

Octavian placed a hand over hers as it rested on the table. "You are my wife now. I am not looking to you for money. Nor should you ever feel the need to scrimp or deprive yourself of whatever you require."

"My father has wasted everything I ever had. I never want to do this to you. It galls me that I came to you with nothing. It shames me that there is nothing for you to take even if you did want something from me. Oh, and as for the added cost to you…I forgot to mention the sheep to be purchased for the Armstrong clan. It is yet another expense incurred by you because we had to race up to Scotland to marry."

He wanted to tell her that it was nothing compared to the contentment he felt being married to her. But he kept silent because Syd would not believe him. Even if she did, the admission would only upset her because of those large chips of shame and blame she carried on her slight shoulders.

How was he to convince her that she was not at fault for any of it? Or that she was more than worthy to be his wife?

"Octavian…"

"Yes, Syd."

Whatever she was about to tell him was interrupted as the innkeeper brought out their drinks and generous portions of lamb stew.

"Here you go," Mr. MacLean said, setting two large plates piled high in front of them. He then remained to chat with them for a few minutes, thinking to be amiable.

Octavian wanted to tell him to go away, but Syd was going on about a simple cure for a boil she had noticed on the man's neck. It was a rather nasty red, swollen lump on his skin and resembled a blister. "Soak a clean cloth in warm water and apply it to the boil for about ten minutes several times a day, Mr. MacLean," Syd prescribed. "It may take a few days to finally burst, but once it does, you must continue to do the same, but add salt to the water before putting it to your neck. I can burst it for you if in pains you too much to wait for the healing to happen naturally."

"Could I trouble you for your assistance, Mrs. Thorne? My sister is afraid to touch it, and it does pain me something awful."

Syd nodded. "Of course, I'll tend to it right after my husband and I finish our supper."

The innkeeper walked off, all the happier, while Octavian now stared into his plate of stew and tried not to think of popping boils. "Syd, you could have waited until after supper to talk about medical treatments."

She laughed softly. "Oh, dear. I did not think about it dampening your appetite. It is hardly a medical treatment, just a matter of applying warm water. He's probably been poking and scratching around that irritation, which only makes it worse."

"Syd, no talk of boils!" he said with a groaning chuckle.

She sighed and watched him dig into his meal. "I knew the talk would not dissuade you for long. The lamb is good, isn't it?"

"Yes," he admitted, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth. The meat was tender and fell off the bone with a mere touch of his spoon. He piled on more and added a chunk of potato to go with it.

Syd continued to chatter while he ate, but she was also devouring the delicious stew, pausing to eat a bite and then prattle on. He liked listening to her, for there was a melodic liveliness to her voice that he found quite pleasant. "His sister is the cook here. She came down from the Highlands to help him run the inn after his wife died. The poor dear succumbed to the influenza. I spoke to his sister briefly while you were visiting Commodore Wainright."

Octavian took a sip of his ale. "Briefly? Sounds like you got some fairly personal information out of her in a short time."

"I am a misfit among the ton , but people in general find me approachable and like to confide in me."

"Because you have a reassuring quality about you," he mumbled, taking another spoonful of stew into his mouth and quickly swallowing it. "What else did you talk about?"

"Sheep," she said with a triumphant smile.

He arched an eyebrow. "Sheep? Because of the lamb stew?"

"Well, the aroma of the stew is what lured me into the kitchen. But then we got to speaking about the local farmers and which of them were interested in selling their sheep. Not just any sheep, mind you. Apparently, one of these farmers used to be a sailor and smuggled a cargo of merino sheep out of Spain several decades ago. Isn't this exciting?"

Her eyes were sparkling.

He grinned. "Yes, Syd. I am agog. Tell me more about these merino sheep."

"You beast," she said with a light laugh, "you are just humoring me. But there is a point to this story. The herd has grown and thrived here. I thought they might be perfect for the Armstrong clan, assuming they don't waste their precious value and eat them. Do you think they would be so foolish as to eat these sheep, Octavian?"

"Probably, although their leader appeared to have a good dose of sense. His son was a fool, however. What do you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking the Armstrongs can develop an active woolen trade with them. There's no finer quality wool around and people will pay a higher price for these goods. Few farmers in England or Scotland are likely to have these sheep since Spain is very protective of its merino breed and will hang anyone caught trying to transport them out of the country. The only way they can be acquired is to be smuggled out. They are not quite as rare as the silkworms in China that spun the purest silk. That secret was guarded successfully for centuries before European traders figured it out."

She took a sip of her tea and continued. "As for these merino sheep, their sheared wool can be spun into spools and sold to any of the weavers in Moffat. These weavers can turn them into shawls, gowns, stockings, waistcoats, and the like, and sell their goods at a considerable profit in which the Armstrongs might share. But I think purchasing just ten merino sheep ought to do it. Of course, one of them must be a virile ram for obvious reasons."

Octavian chuckled. "Syd, you are blushing."

"I'm sure I am not," she muttered as her blush deepened, staining her cheeks an inescapably bright pink. "I am speaking of farm animals of the male persuasion, not discussing you. I'm sure you are virile, but you are not a ram."

"No, I am a big ox."

She sighed. "I only call you that when you irritate me, as you are doing now. I suppose that is not very nice of me. I'm sorry. I won't do that again. You've been wonderful to me. If anything, I am the big ox."

He placed his hand over hers. "Syd, you will never be mistaken for that. A swan, perhaps. Or a golden dove. Do not worry about hurting me. I always want you to tell me what is on your mind and how you are feeling. My hide is quite thick, and I do not care what you call me. Tell me more about your thoughts on the Armstrong sheep."

She set down her fork and sighed. "I thought to acquire ten of another local Highland breed for eating, if they are that hard pressed to survive. But I think all these sheep should be kept alive and bred for their wool. While you are off working, I can visit the farmer and ask what price for his sheep. Do you have any farms, Octavian?"

"As part of my holdings?" He found himself grinning once more as he watched the ideas spin in Syd's head. "No, but Ambrose does. As Duke of Huntsford, he owns farms, country manors, a townhouse in London, and a dozen other land holdings, all of them as part of his entailment. Are you thinking to acquire sheep for us? I would not mind purchasing a dozen for Ambrose. He's done a lot for me and Julius as we were growing up and even now. We are all grown men but still live under his roof. True, Julius and I are rarely there, but we've always considered Ambrose's townhouse our home as well. He has always made us feel welcomed, even now that he is married."

"I wish I had been raised in a family like yours," she muttered, but did not dwell on her past. Instead, she continued to chatter about the possibility of his turning to farming and raising sheep.

"Me? Become a gentleman farmer?" He laughed and shook his head. "Oh, Syd. I don't know. This would require my purchasing a farm, something I would only do if I had a wife in truth and we were preparing to set down roots and raise a family," he said gently, not wishing to start on that sensitive topic.

The light faded from her eyes. "Oh, I see your point. Why bother to build up something that will come tumbling down because it is a sham? Isn't that right?"

"All I am saying is, things can change between us. For the better, I hope. But I was speaking about the practicality of transporting sheep to London. Won't Ambrose and Adela be surprised to find a dozen bleating creatures tearing up their townhouse garden? As it is, we'll have to make arrangements to get the first flock to the Armstrongs."

Syd laughed. "I think we can drop the second flock, should we purchase any for Ambrose and Adela, off at one of Ambrose's farms before we return to London."

"We'll still have to arrange for them to be transported. Our carriage, as spacious as it is, will not fit us and a single sheep, must less an entire flock. But get all the information you can from the farmer tomorrow, negotiate terms you think are fair, and let me know what he says."

The idea seemed to please her. "You would trust me to do the negotiation?"

He nodded. "Syd, you are one of the smartest, most resourceful people I know."

She blushed. "Thank you, Octavian. I'll see what terms he proposes and then report back to you. I've never shopped for sheep before and don't want to make a misstep and overpay. It is your funds I would be spending, so you should have the final say. Seems I've already followed in my father's footsteps and been quick to spare no expense at your cost."

He placed a hand over hers again. "You are not your father, Syd. I will remind you of this as often as you need to hear it."

"But–"

"You are not your father," he repeated yet again. "He would never have considered keeping a promise to the Armstrongs or thought about acquiring sheep for himself."

"And yet, you have agreed to help him."

"For you, Syd. You are my wife now. I would do anything for you. If he is lying injured on an isolated stretch of road, which I sincerely doubt…but if he is, then I would not forgive myself for doing nothing and allowing him to die. I know sending others to search in place of us is not what you had in mind, but they know the terrain better and will be more effective. I suppose I have not handled it perfectly, but–"

"Don't say that, Octavian. You have done so much."

"While we are married, I hope you know that you can come to me for anything you need. This is what it means to be husband and wife. Trust, support, sharing."

"Octavian, stop," she said in a ragged whisper. "You are overwhelming me. This is so different from my life growing up. There was no trust in my family. My parents did not support each other or me. No one shared. They just took."

"And you are deathly afraid to be like them in our marriage." He said it as a fact, not asking it in the form of a question. He knew the answer already. Syd was fearless about many things, but one fear she had yet to overcome was that of becoming as vain and vapid as her parents.

She looked down at her plate and nodded. "I dread it."

"Syd, you won't be like them. You care too much about people and always go out of your way to support your friends. Your outlook on life is completely different from that of your father or your mother. When have you ever indulged yourself at the cost of others? I'll answer that question for you…never."

"But I've done exactly this throughout our rushed trip to Scotland."

"You've been running for your life. That is not indulgent."

"Perhaps you are right, but people can change. What if I do?" She gazed up at him with big, hopeful eyes, so obviously desperate for answers about herself. If only she could see herself for who she truly was, but it would take time for her to understand and appreciate her strengths.

"People, at their core, do not change," Octavian insisted. "A sneaky, petty child is going to turn into a sneaky, petty adult. A kind, compassionate child is going to turn into a kind, compassionate adult."

"Unless they are so badly hurt, they become embittered."

He still had hold of her hand and gave it another light squeeze. "But they also have the capacity to become unembittered when their fortunes turn."

"Or they become cynical and never trust again."

"Is that you, Syd? Too cynical to ever trust me?"

She frowned. "No…that is…I do trust you. In fact, I trust you more than I trust myself." Her frown now faded into a smile. "It is a nice feeling, Octavian. But that does not stop me from being stubborn and irritating to you."

He laughed. "I'll accept that, so long as you trust me. That is good enough for me."

"You have no idea how much I do," she said, surprising even herself by the revelation. "To the depths of my soul. This is how deeply I trust you, Octavian."

"I know. That much was clear the night you bared everything to me."

She blushed again. "I did do that, didn't I?"

"Sweet heaven, yes." He cast her a rakish smile. "Care to do that again?"

Her blush deepened to the brightest shade of pink and she began to fidget in her chair. "What would you do if I said yes?"