Page 21 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“Similar in purpose, if not in construction.” Gwyn waggled her brows. “Dancing and mistletoe kisses are associated with it.”

“Gryff and I will be happy to test it for you.”

“Go right ahead,” she agreed. “And I hope to put it to good use, myself.”

She held the door as the maid gathered up an armful to take out, then followed Tamsyn out into the passage.

“Many of Gryff’s relatives are attending the wedding, are they not? She tried to sound casual.

“Oh, yes. They are pouring into Lancarrow.” And Tamsyn had gone back to pouring over her list.

“It is odd, isn’t it, to think that in a few days time they will all be your family too—even if you haven’t met any of them yet. Except for Lord Locryn, of course.”

Tamsyn stopped at the top of the stairs. “Lord Locryn?”

“Yes.”

“I have not met him.”

“Oh? He is Gryff’s cousin, is he not?”

“I believe so.” Tamsyn eyed her closely. “Gwyn—haveyoumet Lord Locryn?”

Gwyn raised a shoulder. “Yes. Once. Long ago.”

“When?” Tamsyn pounced.

“Years ago—during that first visit we made here.” She glanced askance at her sister. “I know you recall the afternoon that Gryff took us all over the village.”

Tamsyn flushed. “Of course I do. But we never met his cousin that day.”

“I did. You’ll recall when we all went down to the docks to watch the fishermen unload their catch? You were all caught up in the singing and the flash of fish being thrown through the air, but I was not. I caught sight of Lord Locryn down where the dock ends, at the marshy banks.”

“What was he doing there?”

“Sketching.”

“Sketching what? The scene? The sea?”

“A sea holly.”

“A plant? Lord Locryn is interested in plants? As you are?”

“Well,” Gwynn paused. “I have no way of knowing if he still is—but he was at that time.”

“Hmmm.” Tamsyn eyed her closely. “Fancy that.”

“Yes.” Gwyn hitched up her basket. “Now, I’m off to find some holly, ivy and mistletoe.”

* * *

Lord Locryn Pendarvis closed up his field glass and breathed deeply. So long, it had been. Wind and sea, fir and loam—there was nothing like crisp, rich Cornish air.

Thesnickof the door latch sounded behind him.

“Looking for something?” Gryff came to join him on the edge of the stone terrace.

“Just birding.” Locryn did not plan to tell his cousin that his search for the Cornish chough was as much a reason for his return to Lancarrow as was Gryff’s wedding.

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