He was more fortunate than any man had the right to be.

He smoothed down the front of his medieval tunic, then folded his arms over his chest and looked out over the festivities. His guests were celebrating both the finish of Wyckham’s remodel and the christening of his firstborn child. He imagined the present company didn’t look any different from the original party to celebrate Wyckham’s first major remodel and the many christenings to happen there. The guests were dressed in medieval gear, musicians on period instruments entertained the guests, and a steady stream of surprisingly authentic food came from the kitchen to be laid on the lord’s table so the dancers could shore up their strength.

The guest list had been varied and extensive. Two of his three brothers were in attendance with their families, all of his brothers-in-law on his side, and a very large contingent from Artane and Seakirk were there as well. Mary’s great-great-nephew William had come along with his wife, Julianna, to provide much of the authenticity, given that their business was running reenactment tours. William had, as his clients would admit, a knack for setting just the right medieval sort of tone.

Zachary understood completely.

He watched the dancers swirling in the light from torches and hearthfire and allowed himself a bit of reflection on the past year and a half of his life.

Or, the past seventeen months. The first month of his marriage to Mary de Piaget had been filled with such an abundance of bliss and pleasure that he hadn’t been able to tell the days apart. They had happily ensconced themselves in that little cottage outside Wyckham’s walls and done little besides attend very diligently to their marriage, less diligently to her horses in the hastily built stable Kendrick had seen to for them, and only in desperation to other necessities such as food.

Bliss, indeed.

He counted himself just as fortunate once their extended honeymoon had been over and Mary had turned out to be just as enthusiastic about the Trust’s projects as he was. They had spent months looking for and working on things that suited them both. But they’d also devoted an equal amount of time to restoring Wyckham, especially given that Mary had been particularly determined to see their first child born inside castle walls.

“I’m confused.”

Zachary looked next to him to find his father standing there looking, well, confused. “About what, Dad?”

“The vintage of some of these people,” Robert Smith said with a perplexed frown. “That William de Piaget is very good at organizing his team, I’ll give you that, but I think some of his bench is batting for the other side. The medieval side, if you know what I mean.”

Zachary didn’t dare speculate. “Dad—”

“Son, did I ever ask you what you did with most of your weekends over the past almost twelve years? With that terrifying son-in-law of mine?”

“You didn’t,” Zachary said with a smile, “so don’t start now. You won’t like the answers.”

“I already know the answers, Zachary,” Robert said with a snort. “I’m just thinking it was time you settled down.”

“I have. I’m finished with all that paranormal business.”

“I hate to say this, son, but never say never.”

Zachary shook his head. “Not a chance. Besides, Jamie’s been taking Derrick Cameron on his adventures for months now. I have other things to do with my time.”

“Well, your bride would be inducement enough to keep on the right side of the field, I imagine.” He paused and looked at Mary speculatively. “1250,” he announced.

“1231.”

“I was close,” he said archly. “You’d be surprised what sorts of things you can learn after college.” He shot Zachary a look. “Actually, I imagine you wouldn’t be.”

“No,” Zachary agreed with a smile, “I don’t think I would.”

“I’ve been doing all sorts of medieval research,” his father added. “Never know when it might come in handy.”

“Dad, quit while you’re ahead.”

“That’s what your mother keeps telling me.” He looked over the crowd once more. “I’m telling you, son. There’s more of the real thing going on out there than you realize.”

“Whatever you say, Dad.”

“And a few ghosts, if I’m not mistaken.” Robert shivered. “I recognize one of them because I’ve seen him in my backyard.” He looked at Zachary. “He’s been sitting in a brown Naugahyde recliner in the middle of my rutabaga patch.”

“John Drummond?”

“So your mother says. She talks to him, why I don’t know. I just hoe around him and keep my head down.”

“Wise.”

His father grunted, then walked off, apparently to look for something familiar to eat.

Zachary looked around. Well, his father had it partly right. There were many souls there of a medieval vintage, but they were ones who had been in the future long enough to blend in quite well.

He froze.

He could have sworn he saw a couple of blond heads peeking out from behind a banner ... he shook his head. Impossible. He was just imagining things. After all, being a new father with the accompanying lack of sleep was enough to make anyone hallucinate now and then.

He looked around the hall and took up again his contemplation of the marvel that had become his life. He had work that he loved, a car that didn’t smoke, and a castle he had wanted from the first moment he’d seen it. He had enough money for gas, horse feed, and fixing Wyckham’s roof far into his old age. He had a title he could casually point to when in the company of and being hassled by his brother Alex and his brothers-in-law Jamie, Patrick, Cameron, Kendrick, and Gideon.

And while those things were very nice indeed, they couldn’t hold a candle to what he valued most.

He looked for the woman who held that place in his life and found her talking to Sunshine Cameron in whatever they had chosen as the language of the day. It could have been anything from medieval Norman French to Latin; he had ceased to be surprised by the tongues his wife had mastered in her youth. He supposed she and Sunny were discussing the delights of their children, though Zachary had to admit he was partial to the two-month-old Mary held cradled close to her heart.

Her Weeness, the lady Anne Smith.

Kendrick had suggested Robinanne, just to make certain the medieval grandparents didn’t feel slighted, and his father had suggested Roberta, for obvious reasons. His mother, Mary, had only smiled and agreed that Anne was a very lovely name with a long history attached.

Zachary suspected his mother had spent more time in Artane’s solar reading de Piaget genealogy than was good for her.

Zachary leaned back against the wall and allowed himself the pleasure of simply watching his wife. She had once told him that it had bothered her that her mother was the epitome of grace and decorum whereas she had always tramped about in the mud in boots and uncombed hair. He wished he’d had a camera now to add to the collection of photos he’d taken of her that proved that the reality of Maryanne de Piaget Smith was vastly different from what she thought it was.

She was a perfect combination of her father’s competitiveness and her mother’s graciousness. He had watched her woo crusty Scots so thoroughly that they had relinquished without hesitation structures of historical significance they’d been using as extra garages. He’d watched her match wits with greedy landowners and soothe nervous landlords, winning things that cried out for a bit of tender care. She’d left the reluctant grannies to him, which he supposed had been fitting, given how much success he’d had with Mrs. Gladstone at Artane’s ticket booth, who still charged him double whenever he walked through the gates.

Mary, of course, she let in for free.

He smiled to himself. Everywhere Mary went, souls warmed to her beauty and charm. That he understood as well. He spent quite a bit of his time just watching as she assaulted modern life, demanding more in a way that her father would have approved of. She demanded more from her horses, more from her black sports car sitting in the garage—the price of which he couldn’t think about without wincing a little—more from every moment of every day she drew breath. She was, as he had told her more than once, exhausting.

He was happy to take the occasional nap in order to keep up.

He realized she was walking toward him and he pushed away from the wall, then made her a low bow. “My lady.”

“My lord.”

He kissed her softly, then frowned. “Where’s Anne?”

“With your sister.” She smiled up at him. “I thought you might want to dance.”

He pulled her into his arms, because he just couldn’t help himself. He held her close to his heart and marveled at the fact that he had been so richly blessed with things he hadn’t anticipated. All he’d wanted was a simple life with a decent job and a fresh-faced girl next door.

Instead, what he’d gotten was a castle that took his breath away every time he walked inside, a job that left him eagerly anticipating what he would find around the next corner, and a woman who left him speechless every time he looked at her.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“What brought that on?”

“I was just thinking about my life,” he admitted. “And thinking that it was a bit like Wyckham in the rain.”

“Ah, Zachary,” she said with a half laugh. “Surely not.”

“Oh, it was,” he said honestly. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kept her close with his other arm around her waist. “There I was, the grubby peasant just trying to make a living—”

“You were never grubby. And you were never a peasant.”

He smiled. “All right, I’ll give you not grubby. But I was just tromping around without any direction, hoping that I could someday get out of that rain.”

“And then?”

“And then, as I was standing in this imaginary courtyard that looks remarkably like our courtyard, the sun came out and turned the entire place into something out of a fairy tale, an impossibly beautiful fairy tale where the ragged peasant finds himself continually staring in amazement at the lord’s daughter he has in his arms.”

“A lord’s daughter in boots.”

“Well, you do have to tend your horses.”

She looked up at him seriously. “Am I all that to you, my love?”

He took her face in his hands and kissed her softly. “Maryanne, sweetheart, you are that and more. I don’t think I really saw birds or heard bells or noticed roses on the side of the road until—”

“Until you walked into my father’s loo?”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around her. “Yes. Until the first time I saw you and had my world grind to a halt. And now it’s all just spinning so quickly, all I want to do is sit down and watch, on the off chance I’ll miss something.”

“You’re very poetic tonight, husband.”

“You’re very inspiring.” He pulled back a little and smiled at her. “Which dance shall we do?”

“You promised you’d learn one a year and you’re almost out of time for this year,” she said.

“I promise I’ll learn one tomorrow. Don’t make me humiliate myself in front of your brother now.”

She put her arms back around him and hugged him tightly. “I won’t, but I will thank you for tonight,” she whispered. “For all these people and the music and the food, and everything you’ve done to make me comfortable.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve given me, Maryanne.”

She pulled away, smiling, and took his hand. “Stop before I start tearing up. Kendrick will make you pay for that.”

Zachary knew she had a point, so he went with her and prepared to do his best not to fall on his face in front of his guests. It was one thing to just dance; it was another thing entirely to dance with a woman he loved with an I-can’t-catch-my-breath-when-I-look-at-you kind of love.

He had a last look at all the souls around him, mortal or not, then turned his attentions back to the woman he’d longed for but never dreamed he would have.

And he lost his breath. Again.

Happily.