Chapter One

She took his hand and squeezed a promise of her own into his palm. "Yes. I will be your wife."

Gúthwyn was still half-dreaming when she awoke, enveloped in a pleasant haze of warmth, and she tried to catch the fading images, certain of their importance. Something about the stars… her hair billowing in the wind… Legolas…

Legolas. Her eyes flew open; the covers were thrown back. Legolas had returned from the east. He had professed his love for her, not Tauriel, and he had defied his father's wishes. They were to be married. She was to be married!

It was almost too much—her mind was racing faster than an éored at full speed, grasping at memories from the night before. King Thranduil still did not approve of her, but in the end he had relented, even giving Legolas one of his mother's rings for the betrothal. And Elfwine, her clever, wonderful nephew, had been the mastermind of it all. She would have to find him the perfect gift for his upcoming birthday.

She would also have to tell Hammel and Haiweth.

Her bubble of excitement burst, punctured by dread; she had no idea what to say them when they both returned to Edoras in June, how to tell them that their lives were about to be drastically altered. Instinct warned her that she could not ply Hammel with the promise of an Elven library to explore, nor Haiweth with the temptation of brand new gowns—they would not be able to see past Legolas, who to them was still a menacing echo of Haldor. They would feel betrayed by her, and perhaps they would not forgive her.

Enough. You have well over a month to think of something, and for now you should be enjoying this time with Legolas. Although she was still worried about the children, she forced herself to take several deep breaths and let the matter go—or at least push it further into the corners of her mind. Casting around for a diversion, she blushed when she recalled the taste of Legolas's lips.

She touched her own, as if searching for an imprint. With any luck, she would get to kiss him again soon. She had forgotten, or perhaps she had never known, how wonderful it could feel; her first kiss with Haldor had been irrevocably tainted by what had happened after. Yet even her daydreams about Borogor, she realized now, had never quite managed to capture the sensation…

She flinched, for she did not wish to think of these things. Borogor was never coming back, and it was no use feeling guilty for having moved on, for loving the mirror image of his worst enemy. He would have wanted her to stop mourning him, and she hoped he would not begrudge her the choice she had made, so long as she was happy.

As for Haldor…

No. Stop. You do not even know when your wedding night will be.

But there was no denying that there would be a wedding night, and she would have to walk into it just as she had walked into Haldor's tent so many years ago. Feeling suddenly queasy, she looked down and saw that her hands were shaking. She had enjoyed kissing Legolas, but what about lying beneath him? What about when he was inside of her, and there was no escape?

Unable to bear it, she shot out of bed. She would not do this, she vowed; she would not tarnish her first day with Legolas. Instead, she would put on a beautiful gown, one that perhaps he might like to see her in, and she would go to breakfast and forget that she had ever contemplated any of this.

A knock on the door interrupted her as she was opening her wardrobe. Thinking it was Legolas, she drew in a sharp breath, then scrambled to find a thick robe. "Who is it?" she asked, stalling for time.

Yet it was not Legolas who answered. "Cobryn. May I come in?"

She stopped, her hand on one of the hangers, and felt her shoulders deflate. She knew what conversation he had come to have, and part of her wished that she could delay it, but they would have to discuss their broken betrothal sooner rather than later. "You may," she answered, sighing.

He entered her room, shutting the door behind him. "I believe congratulations are in order," he said; she could not tell if his smile was forced.

"Thank you," she replied, unable to prevent a warm glow from stealing across her cheeks. "I do not know what Éomer told you…"

"All of it. Including the desire for discretion." Cobryn gestured to the door he had just closed. "Are you happy?" he asked, fixing his keen gaze back upon her.

"I am. But…" Unable to bear the guilt, she burst out, "It is not fair to you. I have led you on and now—"

"You have done no such thing," Cobryn said sharply. "We had an agreement, and moreover I was the one who proposed it. And one of the terms of our agreement was that you would have the chance to find someone who loved you the way that I could not."

He always had an answer for everything! "It is more complicated than that," she tried to insist. "We were going to… I mean, we were talking about children… and I saw the way you were with Elboron…"

Cobryn could not disguise his reaction to the mention of her nephew, at least not quickly enough for her—not when he inquired after Elboron's wellbeing every time she received a letter from Éowyn. For a moment, he smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle in his tunic; then he said, "I may not be as young as I once was, yet I am quite capable of finding another woman and siring children with her."

"But will you?" she asked sadly, knowing what the answer was. Sure enough, he did not respond. "Cobryn—"

"Do not worry about me," he told her. "Right now, Legolas is waiting to have breakfast with you."

Her heart lifted at his words, but she did not allow it to soar just yet. "I am sorry," she murmured, wishing her happiness had not come at the cost of her friend's future.

Although…

"Cobryn?" she asked as he waved away her apology. "Legolas said—of course, you are under no obligation—although I would very much like it if you would consider—but you may wish to remain in Emyn Arnen—"

"No need to keep digging, I think I have already found the question," Cobryn said wryly. "Yes, I will go with you to the colony, if that is what you are asking."

"Y-You will?"

"You sound surprised."

She flushed, color rising in her cheeks. "It is only that sometimes I feel as if I am dragging you all over Middle-earth!"

He shook his head. "Thanks to you, I have been an advisor to the king of Rohan, I have an open invitation to peruse the Prince of Ithilien's library, and I have dined at the table of the king and queen of Gondor. If your brother's charming wife had not interfered, I might even have had the chance to serve a couple of princes of Dol Amroth." She could not help but giggle at that. "And now you are offering me a chance to live among Elves. If we are to call this being dragged all over Middle-earth, then there is no one else to whom I would rather be tethered."

Her eyes watered; abandoning all reservations, she crossed the room and flung her arms around his neck. "I am so lucky to have you as a friend," she whispered.

As always, it took him a few seconds to return the embrace, but at length he answered, "And so am I."

They stood there, Gúthwyn trying not to spill tears all over Cobryn's shirt, until he said, "You should go see Legolas before Elfwine claims him for the morning."

She pulled back, stifling her laughter, and agreed. But what to wear? Her eyes darted to her wardrobe; as ridiculous as it was, she could not help but feel anxious now that she knew someone would be paying attention.

"I would try one of the blue gowns that matches your eyes."

Startled, Gúthwyn looked up, but Cobryn was already gone. With a rueful grin, she decided to take his advice. How much more perilous dressing was when one desired to impress!

Legolas does not care what I am wearing, she reminded herself. He has seen me in travel-stained clothing just as often as a dress. All the same, she was unable to resist a lengthier session with her hairbrush…

Nothing too excessive, however, for she was eager to see him. And when she hurried out into the hall, there he was: sitting at a table with Éomer and Elfwine, his head bent towards her nephew as he listened intently to the boy's chatter. She tried to approach quietly so as not to disrupt the adorable picture, yet he heard her footsteps and glanced up.

Elfwine swiftly marked his audience's distraction, but the wrinkles in his forehead smoothed when he identified the cause of the disturbance. "Auntie Gúthwyn!"

"Hello, Elfwine," she managed, her eyes still on Legolas. He had stood and was watching her with amazement, seemingly unable to believe his reversal of fortune. She blushed to see him admire her appearance, and she was glad she had followed Cobryn's suggestion.

Éomer did not trouble to hide his smirk. "Good morning, baby sister. Or shall I say good afternoon? For it is almost lunchtime."

"Good afternoon," Legolas said suddenly, as if he had just remembered how to speak. "I mean—good morning—"

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Trelan and Faelon, who must have arrived with Legolas the night before. Their backs were to her, but she had the distinct impression that they were trembling with silent laughter. "Good morning," she said to Legolas and her brother, at last reaching the table. "I am sorry I slept so late, it took me a while to fall asleep."

Legolas's eyes widened, but he quickly realized that she was not alluding to a nightmare, and he smiled. "You need not apologize. I myself had similar troubles."

She blushed at that, and decided it was in her best interests to sit down as soon as possible and wipe that knowing grin off of Éomer's face. The open space next to Legolas was tempting, but she did not think that it would be terribly conducive to discretion. Instead, she chose the one beside Éomer, whose amusement seemed to increase as he watched her.

"Auntie Gúthwyn, guess what?" Elfwine asked when they were all seated.

"What, little one?"

"Uncle Leggy"—Elfwine's voice had dropped to an exaggerated whisper, but in his excitement it swiftly picked back up again—"has been teaching me Sindarin! Did you know that mellon means 'friend'?"

Gúthwyn was finding it harder and harder to contain her joy. "I did know that, actually. I hope Legolas will not mind taking on another pupil."

She locked eyes with him, and felt a horde of butterflies descend into her stomach.

"Speaking of lessons," Éomer said with a faint cough, "Elfwine, it is time for one of yours. Come, I will bring you."

Elfwine looked rather alarmed. "Leggy, are we still going to practice with your bow today?"

"Yes, of course," Legolas assured him. "At the third hour past noon."

This was enough to satisfy Elfwine, and he allowed Éomer to steer him away from the table; as they left, Gúthwyn could have sworn her brother winked at her. Then they were gone, and she was alone with Legolas… well, not quite. Trelan and Faelon were still nearby, and everywhere she looked she saw servants attending to their chores. With so many potential witnesses, she realized in disappointment, there would be no possibility of even a chaste kiss.

Which is precisely why Éomer had no qualms about giving us privacy.

"Did you at least sleep well?" Legolas asked. He, too, was taking stock of their surroundings.

"Yes, I did." Perhaps she could reach under the table and hold his hand? Alas, he was too far away. "And you?"

"I had very pleasant dreams."

She flushed, hoping his dreams had not involved much more than kissing. Still, she could not dispel the pleasure she felt at learning that he thought of her even while he slept. "And now that you are awake?"

"Not quite as pleasant," Legolas admitted, lowering his voice. "It is difficult to be so close to you, and yet have to content myself with only speaking."

"And if that were not the case?" It occurred to her that she did not know how much leeway Elves had during the betrothal period, and that they might have to set some boundaries sooner rather than later. With no small amount of trepidation, she awaited Legolas's response.

But he said only, "I would walk with you down the main street, arm in arm for everyone in this city to see."

Her eyes widened. Was that all? Cautiously, she ventured, "And if we were unobserved?"

She braced herself, but his smile was as gentle as it had always been. "I might have to take the opportunity to kiss you again," he confessed.

In that moment, she thought her spirits would soar. So he had nothing improper in mind—at least, not yet.

Enough, she chastised herself.

Smiling back at him, she asked, "Would you like to go for a ride?"

He looked as if she could have suggested that they throw themselves into Mount Doom and he would have agreed. "Did you have a destination in mind?"

"Not really," she admitted. Although any place where we will not have to worry about attracting gossip would be a start. Mindful of what Éomer and the watchmen might think, however, she said, "Perhaps we could have a picnic? As long as we are within sight of the city walls, it does not matter where we go."

"Then lead the way," Legolas answered, grinning.

Of course, it was not so simple as that—she had to go to the kitchens and request food, and then she had to change into something more suitable for riding, including a cloak that would stave off any blustering spring winds. She tried to hurry, but by the time she reappeared in the hall with a picnic basket in hand, Éomer had already returned from his walk with Elfwine.

"Legolas says you are going to have lunch outside the city," he greeted her, scrutinizing her outfit. "Make sure you stay where Balman can see you."

"Yes, brother." She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Here she was, almost thirty-two years of age, and Éomer was still as protective of her as if she were a child. Yet she was not truly irritated, and she turned to Legolas with a smile. "Shall we?"

He offered to hold the basket, which she declined, and then he offered her his arm, which she accepted. They were almost at the door before she remembered something. "Legolas?"

"Yes?"

"How do you say 'thank you' in Elvish? I mean, Sindarin?" She cursed herself for the misstep—imagine someone calling Rohirric "Mannish"!

Fortunately, Legolas did not seem offended. "Hannon le," he said slowly, emphasizing the pronunciation. "Why?"

"Just a moment." She slipped away from him and went over to the table where Legolas's friends were still sitting. "Faelon?"

They both turned around at the same time, and suddenly she was grateful that Faelon had a bronze tint to his hair as opposed to Trelan's golden hues, for she had never had any trouble distinguishing between them. She supposed she would have to pay extra attention to such details once she arrived at the colony, for most Elves seemed to blend together—and they had an eerily similar quality of movement.

Before she could say anything, Trelan and Faelon leaped to their feet and bowed very low, startling her. Was she supposed to curtsy back? Surely not, assuming Legolas had told them everything and they were acknowledging her as their future princess? But perhaps Elves did these things differently?

She settled on inclining her head and hoping for the best. "Hannon le," she said to Faelon, marveling at how thick her tongue felt. In Westron, back on surer footing, she added, "My brother told me that you delivered the letter to Tauriel. I am exceedingly grateful to you."

His brown eyes lit up, and he responded with a string of Sindarin, none of which she understood, save perhaps something that might have been her name. After a slightly panicked pause, she gave a beseeching look to Trelan, who generously refrained from laughing. "I know Legolas has not had time to teach you much. But you seem to be catching on quickly."

Gúthwyn rather doubted that. Luckily, Faelon switched to the Common Tongue and said, "You are very welcome, Lady Gúthwyn."

"We will not detain you," Trelan added, his lips still quivering with mirth. "Otherwise we will make poor Legolas quite impatient."

Impatient was not a word she would have ever used to describe Legolas, but she herself was eager to be off, so she thanked his friends again and hurried back. She did not have to explain her absence—he had overheard everything, and his smile was a fine reward for her first attempt at speaking his language. "Now I am ready," she declared, linking their arms again.

They took Sceoh and Arod out onto the plains, and for a delightful stretch of time they simply rode, racing and chasing one another across the grass. Every once in a while their eyes met, and they would both start grinning; Gúthwyn soon found it difficult to stop. Eventually they slowed down, and she led him to a small hill from which they would have a view of the city—and Balman of her.

As they unpacked the food, a simple fare of bread, cheese, and apples, Gúthwyn realized that this was her first meal with her future husband. Legolas seemed to share her thoughts, for he shot her a conspiratorial glance and reached into his saddlebag. "Wine?" he asked, pulling out a bottle.

Her hands flew to her face. "I knew I was forgetting something!" She had not even though to ask the kitchen servants for mead. Sheepishly, she added, "Thank you. This will be a more than adequate substitute." So long as she watched how much she drank—she did not have the highest tolerance, and it would not do for him to see her inebriated.

Legolas's eyes shone with amusement, and he thoughtfully produced the cups she had also neglected to bring. "It is from Dorwinion, so be careful—it can be overpowering if you are not used to it."

Gúthwyn eyed the small amount he had given her, and decided to only consume half of it. "Do you always bring your own wine with you wherever you go?" she asked, trying to recall if she had ever noticed this on previous visits.

"Actually, Tauriel slipped it into my bag," Legolas answered, the corners of his mouth turning upward. "It appears she thought I might have a reason to celebrate."

"Then I shall add this to a growing list of things I must thank her for." Gúthwyn could only shake her head at her past foolishness. "I really did believe you loved her. And I was convinced that she loved you in return!"

"She told me there were… a few things she said which unintentionally gave you that impression."

"Oh, yes!" Gúthwyn blushed to recall their conversation, which had ended with her running away like a child. "She said that you had 'all the makings of a fine ruler' and… and something about your heart, and then she said that your wife would be a lucky woman! And now I realize she was putting in a good word for you, but at the time it was awful!"

Legolas laughed at her chagrined expression, though not unkindly, and soon he sobered. "I promise you, there has never been anything but friendship between Tauriel and I. Although it may interest you to know that my father once feared otherwise, because we were always together on patrols—he even went so far as to warn her that he would not allow me to marry a Silvan Elf." His face darkened; the memory had undoubtedly taken on a more sinister meaning in light of Thranduil's recent behavior. "But he was wrong. You are the only one I have ever loved."

Although she had surmised as much from the way he had kissed her the night before, hearing it spoken sent a shiver of pleasure through her.

And yet you cannot say the same to him. The unwanted thought slid in like a knife between her ribs—what if Legolas expected her to repeat his sentiments? He had said they should be open with one another, and caught up in the moment she had agreed, but did that include telling him about Borogor? And there were other things… worse things…

She took a long sip of wine, hoping he would interpret the heat in her face as a blush. "I should like to see her again. Tauriel, I mean. I feel as though I got off on the wrong foot with her. Do you think… well, it might be too much to ask, but—assuming my brother does not mind—could your father be persuaded to let her visit?"

Legolas sighed. "She may no longer be the captain of his guard. Her fate was undecided when I left."

"What? Why?"

"She abandoned her post to bring Elfwine's letter to me. He did not try to stop her, yet nor did he give her permission to go. And it is not the first time she has disobeyed him."

Gúthwyn stared at him in horror. "I have cost her her job?"

"He may be lenient," Legolas tried to reassure her. "And it was not your fault—she would not have needed to find me if he had not interfered, as I reminded him before I left."

Gúthwyn still felt awful; she could not imagine Tauriel had much of a chance at retaining her captaincy, if she were dependent on King Thranduil's goodwill. "You said it was not the first time she disobeyed him—what do you mean by that?"

"She followed Bilbo and the Dwarves after they escaped our dungeons," Legolas explained. "She disagreed with my father that staying within our borders was the best way to face the Enemy's growing power."

"I did not know she was involved in those events," Gúthwyn said with interest. "I do not recall you mentioning her in the stories you told Elfwine."

"She was there," Legolas confirmed, his voice growing distant with memory. Coming back to himself, he said, "You will hear more about it someday."

Gúthwyn was content to wait—after all, she had a lifetime of conversations with him to look forward to. A quiet moment passed, in which she realized she was hungry for the first time in months and availed herself of some cheese. Eventually, she asked, "Is your father terribly angry with you? For wanting to marry me?"

Legolas's eyes clouded over, and he gazed unseeingly into the depths of his cup. "Yes and no. I now understand that many of his objections were not on the grounds I thought they were, and he concealed his true concerns until recently."

"His true concerns?" she echoed. King Thranduil had certainly made it clear that he did not consider her worthy of his son. What else could he have left unsaid?

"He fears losing me. He thinks that… that when your time has come, I will leave Middle-earth and never return. Just like my mother."

Remorse swept through her when she heard the pain in his voice. Death was not something she contemplated often, at least not her own, but she hoped to meet it when she was old and ready, leaving behind loved ones who would take comfort in the knowledge that she had not gone before her time. The children would be adults, with families of their own to care for; Elfwine and Elboron, so young now, would have heirs and perhaps even grandchildren.

Yet Legolas was not a part of this cycle—he would not follow her to the halls of her forebears. He was forever bound to the world, and she knew that she would never be able to comprehend what an eternity would be to someone who had lost their spouse. She could not help him; she could only hurt him.

"You told me once that you would not go until Aragorn died," she said hesitantly.

He nodded. "I will stay until then. I promised him."

"A-And after?" she asked, hardly daring to breathe.

"After…" Legolas exhaled, and at last he looked at her. "I think I shall need a rest."

She felt her heart stop as his meaning became horribly clear. "Legolas, I am so sorry. I never wanted—I never wanted to hurt you—" Such was her distress that she even pitied Thranduil. What had he done to her, after all, that was not in the hopes of sparing his son such a wretched fate? Would she have acted any differently if it were her own child?

"None of this is your fault," he said firmly. Reaching out, he brushed his thumb across her cheek, drawing away her tears. "From the moment I heard the gulls, I knew I would have to answer their call. Loving you may have hastened my destiny, but it was already sealed long ago. My father had hoped he could keep me in the forest, and I let him believe I had not been claimed by the Sea."

She was openly weeping now, and she took his hand and held it tight—as if she herself had the power to detain him in Middle-earth. "H-How can you bear it? How can you go on, knowing all of this will come to pass?"

"That is the doom of my people," he told her: "to persist as all else is worn away by time, as we ourselves fade and grow weary. Not until the world ends will we understand why this path was chosen for us."

His words were not in the least bit comforting, and she was beginning to fear that she had caused him immeasurable grief. How could he be so calm? How was he not railing, screaming against what the Valar had in store for him?

"I am sorry," he said suddenly. "It is a beautiful day, and here I am upsetting my bride-to-be. We should turn our minds to happier things."

She attempted to wipe the tears from her face, with little result. "I-I am not sure if I can, after that."

"Then I shall go first." He took an unused napkin and held it out to her; there was a slight twitch in his arm, as if he wanted to dry her tears himself, but then his eyes darted to one of the watch towers upon the walls and he reconsidered. "I have been giving some thought to our household," he began.

Gúthwyn dabbed at her face, at last achieving some semblance of composure. Another long sip of wine helped. "Our household?" Unlike Legolas, she had not even considered such a detail, and it startled her to hear him referring to it as theirs—as if all the nameless servants who seemed to move in and out of thin air were now hers as well.

By the Valar, they are mine, she realized in alarm. They are bound to me and I am responsible for them—and yet I have never even met any of them!

Legolas sensed her disquiet. "I know you have not had enough time to start considering these matters. I have an unfair advantage over you, for while I was traveling to Edoras, it was all I could think of—how we would build our lives together, once I had repaired the damage wrought by my father."

"Then I am all ears," she said, "for I have nothing to contribute."

"Not yet," he corrected with a gentle smile. "But first: If Tauriel is unable to continue in my father's service, how would you feel about her entering ours?"

"That would be wonderful!" Gúthwyn's pulse quickened as she imagined the sparring opportunities—there was much she could learn from an Elf over six hundred years her senior. For the first time in more than a year, her fingers itched for Framwine.

Not that I would be worthy of even picking up a sword in her presence, she thought grimly. But no doubt Elfwine, at least, would be happy to see her more often.

"Would she be a member of your guard?" she asked, trying to figure out what Legolas had in mind. "Do you not already have a captain?"

Legolas chuckled. "I do, and Magol is very good at his job, but I thought Tauriel could be the captain of your guard."

"My guard?" Her astonishment swiftly turned to alarm. "Oh, no, really, there is no need for that."

"Members of the royal family always have one," he reminded her; he did not seem surprised in the least by her objections. "Your brother is also well-protected."

"Yes, but—" Feeling increasingly flustered, she wondered if she and Legolas were about to have their first couple's argument. "I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. I do not need someone following me around all day, even if it is Tauriel."

"Just like we are being followed now?" Legolas asked, his eyes twinkling.

"What?" Gúthwyn nearly dropped her bread, and she twisted around in search of the Elves who were watching them. Then she realized that there were none, and that was his point.

"It would just be a formality," Legolas elaborated, contenting himself with a small grin. "My guards at the colony stand watch at night, are present when I receive visitors, and accompany me on extended travels. Tauriel would fulfill the same roles, were she to accept the position."

Gúthwyn bit her lip. She supposed that sounded reasonable. "Could it just be her? Or one other person, if it is truly necessary? For if we are going to be together, surely I can share your guard."

"That we can," Legolas conceded, still looking amused. "Shall we say three, then? One each for you, Hammel, and Haiweth?"

She could not deny that it would be a great comfort to have additional pairs of eyes on the children, especially where Haiweth was concerned. "Three it is."

"And…" There was a strange intensity to Legolas's gaze, one that made her pulse quicken. "Will you allow me to add more guards once we are given a child?"

"Yes," she breathed, too caught up in the idea to be embarrassed by how forthright they were being. Then she came back to herself, blushing as deep a red as the wine in her cup—which she hastily drained to conceal her embarrassment. "Yes, that will be acceptable," she agreed more calmly.

"Am I being too bold?"

"A little." She summoned the courage to add, "But I do not mind."

Was that color she espied in Legolas's cheeks? Yet it was gone as quickly as it had come, and he did not pursue the matter.

"Speaking of the household," she said, feeling as though it were getting rather warm for April, "I spoke to Cobryn. He will go with me to the colony."

"I am glad to hear it. I know his presence will be a comfort to you."

Gúthwyn chose her words carefully. "You will not mind, even after… the misunderstanding?"

"Of course not—although I will not deny that I used to envy him for his good fortune." Legolas's voice was low, his expression unguarded; she felt her breath catch as she beheld the emotion within. "It was a constant torment, imagining him at your side… kissing you…"

Surely the wine had affected her; that was the only explanation for her response. "Well, now you can kiss me whenever you want."

A shiver seemed to race through him—or perhaps it was a passing breeze—and for a moment she thought he would hold her to her word then and there, discretion be damned. But then he exhaled and said, "Not now. Someone might see us."

She could only imagine the shock poor Balman would receive if he saw his king's sister kissing their Elven guest! Biting back her disappointment, she replied, "Yes, I suppose you are right."

An idea struck her. She took the picnic basket between them and pushed it forward, simultaneously scooting over so that it was wedged between their legs.

"What are you doing?"

"We cannot kiss," Gúthwyn pointed out, "but we can still hold hands without anyone being the wiser."

Comprehension dawned. "Perhaps we should picnic out here more often," Legolas said, casually reaching behind the basket.

Gúthwyn laced her fingers in his. "Oh yes," she agreed. "We should."

They sat there, enjoying the view.