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Iver stood silently in Gwyn's chamber listening to all the words Philomena spoke and to the secrets she had revealed. With each passing moment, there seemed to be more exposed, yet there seemed to be so much left unsaid.

It was obvious the child was not Gwyn's and now it was revealed it was not the Laird Chattan's, either.

'Then who was the lad and what significance did he hold? Why did Gwyn protect him so fiercely and why did she devotedly train him?'

Iver understood Gwyn had raised him as her own, and hearing what Philomena declared only raised more questions than answers.

It was now abundantly clear to Iver why his uncle had never taken any responsibility for Durell and why there was such a cool sense of reserve around Gwyn.

'But why did you beat her so?'

All he wanted to do in this instant was to take Gwyn into his arms and hold her and comfort her and keep her safe. And to love her. God above, all he really wanted to do was to openly show her his devotion.

But she had changed. Whatever the laird had done to her, whatever had transpired in this room in the deep of the previous eve, had altered her being.

He realized in that moment he could do nothing but grant her this time to do what was necessary to heal.

He would not force his presence upon her.

He would do nothing but stay near her side and if she reached out, he would be there for her with open arms.

Gwyn's soft yet determined voice broke through Iver's thoughts.

"I must speak to the laird. And alone, before it is too late."

Gwyn looked at neither of them within the room as she stared intently at the door separating her chamber from her husband's. At the same precise moment, both Philomena and Iver stepped aside as they provided her the path and unspoken permission she unknowingly sought.

Iver watched Gwyn's retreating back with agony upon his heart until she passed silently through the door adjoining their rooms. He wished things were different and how he fought the dark sense of doom as it hovered all around them.

Gwyn entered the chamber of her laird and noticed immediately the clan's healer as she sat quietly next to the bed.

However, it was the man who was lying so still upon the mattress that held all of her attentions.

As she neared, she could tell he was awake as his lowered gaze traveled with her while she moved slowly across the floor.

When she reached his side, she did not remove her gaze as she spoke quietly.

"I need a few moments alone with my husband."

It was obvious to Gwyn as the healer looked at the Laird Chattan, she would not heed any of her words unless given permission to do so.

It was only when the laird lifted his gaze and nodded gently, the old woman relinquished her place beside his bed and moved out into the hallway.

As the door clicked closed behind her, Gwyn took the hand of the laird as she spoke softly.

"My laird. My heart breaks for you and I am truly sorry for all that my family has brought down upon you and your clan. I never meant to harm you. Please believe me when I tell you it grieves me greatly knowing what I have done and the shame-"

Gwyn felt a slight tightening of the hand she held and continued to speak.

"Please, my laird. Do not be ashamed for things you could not change nor control.

You are a powerful man and a strong leader for which you can be proud.

You have built a grand legacy and you should never forget that, for the Chattan have been blessed to have you as their laird for so many years. "

She looked deeply into his eyes attempting to convey her compassion. Gwyn watched sorrowfully as the laird took a deep breath while attempting to speak.

"My lady. Although I have never spoken, I know you have tried so very hard over these years to bring life back to my keep. And at every turn I have refused you and made your life difficult. Even still, you found a way to win despite my desires and have made these holdings a better place."

Once again, the laird squeezed her hand gently as he drew in his breath fully. When he exhaled deliberately, he continued.

"I understand my hours are numbered and know I have no right to ask anything of you.

Especially how you have been treated over all of these years.

But I beg of you…Philomena….please be kind to her.

She has done nothing but provide her love and devotion to me over all these years and has never asked for anything in return.

And she should not be blamed for things I have incited by my own hand.

She cannot be held responsible for my misery and my willfulness! "

As the words came from his lips, the laird of the Chattan began to cough lowly as he moved his free hand absently to his chest.

"Yes, my laird, you must know that I will honor you in this way. I will always care for Philomena, you have my eternal promise on this."

Gwyn watched in sadness as the pain contorted his face as he began to clutch forcefully at his chest. A sadness and a fear grew within Gwyn as she shouted.

"Philomena!Iver!Please, come quickly!"

As the tears began to blur and distort the face of her husband, she felt movement all around her. The healer had rejoined the small grouping and stood by the laird's head as Philomena moved tentatively to Gwyn's side.

Gwyn could feel the warmth of her husband's hand that she still held within her own and without a conscious thought, brought it up tenderly to her lips.

As she placed a kiss upon his knuckles, the first of her tears slipped fully down her cheek as the sadness of all she had known began to overwhelm her.

Slowly, she reached down to her side as she grasped the petite hand of Philomena.

In that instant, the two women clutched at each other with near desperation to silently share their strength and the reason their lives had become intertwined.

As Gwyn placed the two hands that she held together, the one of her husband and that of who Gwyn deemed as his true wife, she was determined to relinquish her place.

Firmly, she held their hands together in her final act of kindness to the one she believed rightfully deserved the place by the laird's side.

As Philomena moved closer to the laird, Gwyn stepped back and away from the bed. She closed her eyes feeling all the pain and the uncertainty of everything around her.

As Gwyn stood in the silence of the room, she felt as Iver moved next to her side. She wanted desperately to fall into his arms for the comfort and the strength she knew he would provide. She also understood she did not have the right nor would she ever do anything to further shame her husband.

When Gwyn heard the mournful cry of Philomena and the oppressive silence that ensued, she knew her husband had slipped into another world beyond their own.

It was a place she hoped he would find more tolerable then he had in these last years of his life with the Chattan.

Her heart mourned for all he had been through and the pain she herself, had unknowingly inflicted upon him.

As the anguish of this day bit furiously deep inside of her, Gwyn reached with her hand and sought out the one who had been her own strength in recent weeks.

As she laced her fingers within his, she found herself grasping at Iver's hand desperately as he returned her grip, in kind.

Tightly she held on to him and understood this was as much as she could offer him in this moment.

Gwyn grieved as the tears fell profusely down her cheeks for what was lost and for the fear she held for their futures.