The sound of their door opening drew Penn to full wakefulness. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and blinked at the figure in the doorway. “Gideon?”

His half brother closed the door and moved into the chamber. “Get up. We don’t have much time. I can only stay a few minutes.”

Amelia stirred beside him. He leaned down and kissed her temple. “Gideon’s here. We need to get up.”

“I’ll turn my back,” Gideon said, positioning himself in front of the hearth.

Penn left the bed and pulled his clothing on as quickly as possible. He pulled Amelia’s chemise from the hook and handed it to her. “Do you need help?”

She shook her head. “I’ll manage.”

Penn went to the chair and sat down to pull on his stockings and boots. “How late is it?”

Gideon slid him a weary glance. “Nearly morning.”

“Can I assume from your urgency that you have the dagger?”

Pulling the blade from his coat, Gideon tossed it onto the table next to the book. “I’d write down the code before you go, just in case you lose it. Better to have two copies.”

Penn noted he said “you” not “we,” but perhaps it was a slip of the tongue. “We solved the code,” he said. “I’ll just decipher it now, and then we’ll know where we’re going.”

Gideon’s eyes flashed with admiration. “Well done. But then I’m not surprised.”

Penn finished pulling on his boot. “The words on the heart said the Vale of Neath.”

“Waterfalls and gorges and caverns,” Gideon said. “Your father took us there one summer.”

“You remember.” That had been their very best summer together, or so Penn had always thought. “It’s one of my favorite places.”

“Mine too. I haven’t been back.”

Penn smiled up at him as he turned toward the table and picked up the pencil. “Well, you will now.”

Gideon shook his head. “I’m not going with you. One of Foliot’s men followed me here. I need to go now and divert his attention.”

Penn copied down the code from the dagger, checking it twice before handing the weapon back to Gideon. “Here, take it. And the heart. We don’t need them. I’ll return the book to the Williams-Wynn family. After my father spends a few days with it first,” he added with a half smile.

“I don’t need any of it.” Gideon’s gray eyes were dark as iron. “I only want the real treasures—all of them.”

Penn frowned. “What happened with Foliot?”

Gideon shook his head. “There isn’t time. Just find the heart and keep it safe, please.”

“I will.”

Amelia pulled on her jacket as she came toward them. “What does the dagger say?”

Penn quickly deciphered the letters. “Sgwd yr Eira. It means waterfall of snow.”

“That’s where you’ll go?” Gideon asked.

Penn stood. “Meet us there.”

“I will if I can. But I won’t let Foliot or his men get to you. Only you can find the heart. I may be good at planning, but you’re the treasure hunter, Penn.”

“And you’re the earl—I’ll make sure you are, Gideon, even if I have to leave Britain.”

Gideon’s lips spread into a fast smile. “I don’t care anymore. I have a birthright. I’m a descendant of Gareth. The Thirteen Treasures are my responsibility—not the Order’s, mine. I will ensure they’re found and protected.”

“What if you aren’t the only descendant of Gareth?” Penn asked. “Someone in the Order may challenge you on that.”

“Let them try.” Gideon turned and stalked toward the door. “I have to go. Wait a bit before you leave so that I can lure them away.”

“Them? It’s more than one?”

Gideon shrugged. “I’m not sure. Be wary when you go, just in case someone lingers and catches your scent.”

Penn went to his half brother and clasped his hand. “Be safe. And come to Hollyhaven when you can. I’ll have good news for you.”

“You’re such a bloody optimist.”

“My father taught me to be.” Penn winced as he realized his father was really Gideon’s father.

“And mine taught me the opposite.” The disgust in Gideon’s tone sliced into Penn as surely as that rock had carved into his hand the day he’d found the dagger. The day his life had irrevocably changed. His gaze strayed to Amelia, who stood quietly near the table.

“Be well, Penn. And find a way to marry her.” He inclined his head toward Amelia. “Whatever you do, don’t subject her to what Septon did to my mother. No woman deserves that.”

What he really meant was that no child deserved to lose their mother in such a way. Penn agreed. At least in this instance, there wasn’t a child.

As far as he knew… He hadn’t been particularly thoughtful tonight, nor had he been the other day in the lean-to.

With a final nod, Gideon turned and left the chamber, closing the door firmly behind him.

“I wonder what happened with Foliot,” Amelia said, echoing what was rooted in Penn’s mind.

“I don’t know, but Gideon seems to have a new purpose.”

“It sounds like a good one,” she said softly.

Penn agreed. And he’d do everything he could to help him, including finding the heart. He went to the window and looked out into the predawn. It would be light in the next hour. “We can leave soon.” He turned from the window to see her staring at him with a sad expression.

He moved toward her, asking quietly, “What is it?”

“You know.” She shook her head. “Let’s not speak of it. We’ll find the heart, and then we’ll return to Hollyhaven.”

“Where Egg will be waiting with the proof that I’m the earl. Then you’ll help me burn it.”

She smiled, but it was tinged with regret. “And then I’ll go back to my grandfather’s house, and you’ll return to Oxford.”

“Or you could come with me,” he said. “If I’m not an earl, no one will care if we’re together. It’s not as if your husband is a notorious earl. You can be a widow. In fact, we could marry—”

“Penn!” Her eyes were wide, and her lips parted briefly before she clamped them shut. “What would happen to your reputation if people learned I had a living husband? You’re a respected scholar, and I won’t endanger that.” Her gaze softened, and she gave him a pleading look. “Can we please not discuss it? There’s no point, and I’d rather enjoy the time we do have together.”

An aching despair rooted in Penn’s gut and spread, leaving him feeling hopeless and angry. “I may murder him yet,” he muttered as he pulled on his waistcoat.

“You won’t,” she said with certainty. “And that’s why you’re better than him.”

Being better wouldn’t make him happy. No, that was the woman standing in front of him. Maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to change their fortunes.

* * *

The weather hadn’t cooperated, and so it was that they found themselves finally approaching the village of Pontneddfechan on the third day after leaving Wells. Amelia hadn’t minded because that had meant two more nights with Penn instead of one.

He’d stopped trying to talk about the future, for which she was grateful. It was painful enough knowing their parting was coming. She preferred to bask in the joy of their union while it lasted.

There’d also been no talk of love, but she felt it between them. She longed to tell him so, but couldn’t form the words for fear she would fall to pieces and never recover.

“There’s an inn,” Penn said, gesturing ahead. “I’ll ask them to stable our mounts while we take our walk.” He looked up at the sky with a grim expression. “I hope the rain stays away.”

They’d endured quite a storm on their first day out. By the time they’d stopped at an inn, they were both drenched and miserable. They had, however, grown quite warm together in front of the fire that night. She smiled at the memory, glad for it now and to have it for the future.

They rode into the yard at the inn and dismounted. Penn handed her the saddlebags that held her things as well as the book and other artifacts.

“You’re sure you want to leave them here?” she asked. They’d discussed it at length last night—whether to take the items with them to the waterfall.

“I think it’s best. I would feel terrible if the White Book were damaged.”

She smiled at him. “I am beginning to think the heart will pale next to the book.”

He laughed softly. “No. It’s different. But yes, rediscovering this book is exceptional.”

Because he was anxious to present it to his father so that he could study it for a few days before returning it to its owners. She understood because that was precisely how she would feel if her grandfather were alive, and she could give him the heart.

Well, not give it to him. They were going to give it to Gideon.

Penn spoke with the innkeeper, renting a room for the night and stabling the horses. He carried the saddlebags up to their room, where Amelia changed into her men’s costume and Penn organized what they would take with them.

He draped one bag over his shoulder diagonally and prepared to do the same with the next one.

“I can carry that,” Amelia offered. “Let me be Egg.”

Penn let out a sharp laugh. “You could never be Egg. You are far too attractive and pleasant.”

Amelia stuck her lower lip out and grunted. “I can be disagreeable.”

He went to her and kissed that lip, making her withdraw it with a giggle. “Please don’t. I love you just the way you are.”

Love? She lost all semblance of humor and stared at him.

He seemed to realize what he’d said. Their eyes connected for a moment before he averted his gaze. “You can carry it if you want.” He held it out to her, careful not to touch her hand.

She took the bag and draped it around herself as he had done. It was a bit heavy, but nothing she couldn’t handle. “Everything you think we’ll need is in here?”

“Except your pistol.” He looked at her in question, and she patted her waistband in response. “Good. I have mine, and—” He withdrew the small knife she’d withdrawn from his coat the day they’d met and placed it in her hand. “I want you to carry this.”

“What if you need it?” she asked, hating this distance that was growing between them, but knowing it was necessary if they were going to survive their inevitable separation.

“You’ll give it to me.” His lips quirked up briefly before he turned and stalked to the door. “Let us be on our way.”

When they entered the common room, the innkeeper approached with a small bundle, which he handed to Amelia. “I’ve packed a bit of food for you along the trail, if you become hungry.”

“Thank you.” She took the bundle and tucked it into her bag, while Penn accepted a flagon of ale from the innkeeper, which he tied to his belt.

“Where are you headed?” the innkeeper asked.

“To look at the waterfalls,” Penn said. “I saw them once and would like to share them with Mrs. Bowen.”

Mrs. Bowen.

She’d inhabited that name for the past few days, and she didn’t want to give it up.

The innkeeper eyed Amelia’s breeches with a mix of curiosity and disdain. “Before you go, I recommend you stop and speak with Mr. Hughes. He’s mapped all the waterfalls and would be an excellent source of information. He lives just down the lane in a small cottage with a thatched roof and a crimson door.”

“Thank you, we’ll consider that.” He said good-bye to the innkeeper, then held the door open for Amelia.

They walked out into the cool, gray afternoon. Amelia shivered but knew she’d warm up quickly when they started to walk. “Should we stop in and see Mr. Hughes?”

Penn looked conflicted, his gaze moving down the lane toward what she assumed was the man’s cottage—it looked like what the innkeeper had described. “I’m not sure I want to take the time. We need plenty of time to walk to the falls, search for—and find—the heart, and get back before nightfall.”

They could wait until tomorrow. That would give them one more night. However, they were both eager to find the heart. This was the culmination of their journey together.

Culmination meant the end. A lump lodged in her throat, and she struggled to swallow past it. Perhaps they should wait…

Before she could voice her concern, Penn took a step toward the lane. “Let’s visit him. When I came here in my youth, we started at Ystradfellte, which is north of here, so he may have useful information. We’ll be brief.”

And they were on their way.

It was a short jaunt to the cottage where Penn knocked on the door. The man who opened it was squat and thick. Not fat, but well muscled. He reminded Amelia of a less grizzled version of Egg.

“Good afternoon,” Penn said. “We’re going to walk to Sgwd yr Eira, and the innkeeper said we should visit with you first.”

The man looked up at Penn, scrutinizing him for a moment before inviting them inside. “Come in, come in.”

Penn glanced at Amelia. “We shouldn’t stay long.”

Mr. Hughes waved his hand as he led them to a sitting area. “You’ve plenty of time to walk there and back before nightfall.” He turned to face them. “Unless you’re planning to spend some time at the waterfall?” Something about the question struck Amelia as odd. It wasn’t an innocuous query but gave her the impression he was searching for information.

Her hackles rose, and she paused just behind Penn, then reached out to touch his arm.

The older man’s gaze flicked toward Amelia’s movement. She withdrew her hand as Hughes stuck his out toward Penn. “I’m David Hughes.”

Penn shook his hand. “Penn Bowen, and this is my, er, wife.”

Hughes’s eyes widened briefly. “Mr. Bowen! Well, of course I’ve heard of you and your illustrious father.” He bowed to Amelia. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Bowen. What brings you to the waterfall?”

“We’re on our honeymoon trip,” Penn said smoothly. “I visited here in my youth, but we came from the north.”

Hughes nodded. “Ah, from Ystradfellte.” He peered at them with a bit of skepticism, and again Amelia’s senses pricked. “You’re a treasure hunter, Mr. Bowen. Are you certain you aren’t looking for something? The Heart of Llanllwch, perhaps?”

Penn took a step back so that he was even with Amelia. “Who are you?” he asked in a low, fierce tone.

“I’m a bit like you,” he said. He turned his attention squarely on Amelia. “Is there a chance you’re related to Jonathan Gardiner? You’ve a bit of the look of him—it’s your eyes.”

Amelia edged forward in surprise and anticipation. “You knew my grandfather?”

Now it was Penn’s turn to touch her arm. He moved closer to her side.

“I did,” Hughes said. “You are not the first people to search for the Heart of Llanllwch. And you won’t be the last.”

“But my grandfather didn’t find it,” Amelia said.

Hughes’s gray brows shot up. “Didn’t he?”

“That one was fake,” Penn said flatly. “And he didn’t find it here, but near Carmarthen, which I think you know. You’re a member of the Order. Don’t deny it. I know you watch over the Thirteen Treasures, and that’s what you do here, isn’t it? You’re one of their watchers.”

“Very astute of you, Mr. Bowen, but then I would expect nothing less. Indeed, I’m a tad surprised it took you that long.” His eyes glowed with mirth, but Amelia wasn’t amused. What was this man about?

“Help me understand,” she said. “How did you know my grandfather?” He’d doubted that the Order truly wanted to protect the treasures, and yet he’d apparently met one of their watchers.

“He went to Carmarthen looking for the heart. I used to live there. When he found it, we let him take it.”

“The fake, you mean,” Penn said.

Hughes gave him a pointed look. “Yes, that’s why we let him have it. We hoped it would stop others from looking for the real one.” His expression softened as he looked to Amelia. “You appear confused. Let me reassure you. Your grandfather was on a quest to find the heart, but more importantly, to find answers. He grew to understand what the Order was about and even agreed with our purpose. For that reason, he was given the dagger to keep it safe.”

Amelia tried to make sense of what Hughes said. It was wonderful to know what had happened, but it didn’t help her confusion regarding her grandfather. “Was he part of the Order?”

Hughes shook his head. “No. He was what we called a Friend of the Order.” He shot a glance toward Penn and smiled. “Like your father.”

Amelia watched the confusion she felt bloom on Penn’s face. Just as quickly, it evaporated when he said, “I don’t think my father would characterize it that way. He might go along with the Order, but he doesn’t necessarily agree with you.”

“Yes, well, that has been a struggle for us over the centuries. We don’t expect everyone to understand.” He nodded toward Amelia. “But your grandfather did—eventually. He didn’t trust as at first, but over time he grew to appreciate our efforts. He took the dagger and kept it safe. Although I understand it’s been stolen.”

“It was, but it is back in my possession.”

Hughes looked pleased. “And now you’re both here to find the heart. Alas, I can’t let you take it.”

Penn chuckled softly. “I mean no offense, Mr. Hughes, but I don’t think you’ll be able to stop us.”

“Not on my own perhaps, but you won’t be allowed to take it.”

Frustration grated through Amelia. They’d come all this way, and now they’d have to turn back empty-handed.

Penn took a step toward the older man, all humor gone from his face. “That heart belongs to the descendants of Gareth, and as it happens, I’m going to deliver it to one so he can keep it safe.”

Surprise flashed in Hughes’s eyes. “That’s what we do in the Order. We protect the treasures from being used for malevolent purposes.”

“In darker times, I understand why the Order would have felt that was necessary. But the Order is no longer the peace-seeking organization it once was. There’s a dangerous faction gaining power. Surely you’re aware of the Camelot group.”

Hughes’s brow creased, and he looked away. “They’re a blight on all of us.”

“I don’t disagree,” Penn said. “I can’t let them find the heart, and they’re doing everything they can to do so.”

Hughes was quiet a moment as he stared off toward the wall. When he turned his attention back to them, he looked a bit…defeated. But then determined. “I won’t stop you; however, I need to know the identity of this descendant.”

“Gideon Kersey. He already possesses Dyrnwyn—and it flames in his grasp.”

“Indeed?” He sounded a bit euphoric, his gaze sparking with delight. “How I should like to see that. I’ll need to write to the Order.”

“Do what you must, just as we will,” Penn said.

Hughes gave a perfunctory nod and walked them back to the door. “Continue down the lane until the path veers off. Follow that to where the River Mellte meets the River Hepste, then go a mile east to the falls. Good luck to you.”

“Thank you.” Penn’s hand grazed the small of Amelia’s back on their way outside. They were silent as they walked to the path Hughes had described.

“I’m not sure what to make of that,” she said at last.

“Nor I. The Order is so damned enigmatic. Are they good, are they bad?” He shook his head. “Sometimes I can’t decide.”

“It’s apparent my grandfather changed his opinion after what he wrote in his journal. I doubt I’ll ever know why.”

Penn looked over at her, his eyes full of empathy. “Is it good to know at least that much?”

“It is.”

They fell silent again as they followed the path. The area was breathtaking, with moss-laden branches stretching overhead and birds sounding their presence from all around them, along with the occasional croak from a frog.

After some time, they reached the junction of the rivers then had to climb up an incline to the path that headed east toward the waterfall of snow. The path followed the River Hepste, descending as they approached the fall, a sheet of water spilling gracefully over the rock.

“It’s so beautiful.” Amelia had never seen anything like it. “But how will we find the heart amidst that?”

“I’m not sure, but in my experience, there is usually a clue or two to be had.” He waggled his brows at her, and she could feel his excitement.

“I think I understand why you do this. The thrill of imminent discovery is a singular emotion.”

“Yes, it is.” He clasped her elbow as her heel slipped on a patch of mud. “Careful.”

The entire area was damp—from the falls and likely from the rain that had fallen that morning. She was quite glad she’d decided to change into her men’s clothing.

They descended all the way to the falls, and the spray coated her in a fine sheen of water.

“Come, we can walk beneath it.” He took her hand and led her beneath the curtain. They stopped in the middle and looked through the water.

“This is astonishing,” she breathed. She’d never imagined she’d see such things, or experience all she had since meeting Penn. She turned to him. “Thank you. For this. For everything you’ve shown me.”

He faced her. “Thank you. For everything you’ve shown me.”

Overcome, she looked past him. Then she squinted. “Penn, is that a drawing on the rock?”