“I say,” Gideon managed faintly. “That is a bit much, don’t you think?”
The Drummond put himself back together, cleaned up with a snap of his fingers, then sauntered over to the table. He looked at Zachary archly until Zachary made him a low bow.
“My laird,” Zachary said deferentially. “I can tell I have you to thank for that very fine rescue.”
“You do,” the Drummond said without hesitation. “My bit’s done, but I will come back for the wedding.”
“Where are you off to now?” Jamie asked politely.
The Drummond turned to him. “I’m off to haunt a few of my brother’s descendants. They’ve been living quite richly on my gold all these years and I’ve been itching for an excuse to point out the error of their ways.”
“All descendants of noble ancestors aren’t necessarily guilty of nefarious deeds,” Kendrick offered.
The Drummond looked at him. “I’ve heard about you.”
“I imagine you have,” Kendrick said mildly.
The Drummond grunted, then looked at Zachary. “I suppose I can’t leave without giving you a bit of a thank-you as well.”
“Me?” Zachary asked in surprise. “Why?”
John Drummond pursed his lips, considered, then looked at Jamie briefly before he turned back to Zachary. “I didn’t tell you before, but I wanted to thank you for your efforts to save that little American lass.” He paused. “You know the one.”
Zachary was quite happy to be leaning against the table. He knew exactly who the Drummond was talking about. He could only nod, mute.
“She was one of my descendants,” Laird Drummond said gruffly. “I could do nothing for her, of course, save watch and fret.” He cleared his throat. “I aided you today because you’re my kin. But I want you to know I’m also grateful for what you tried to do for a gel you didn’t know.” He shot Kendrick a look. “Keep that in mind when you’re vexing my grandson here. I’m not afeared of those pantywaists you have guarding your keep. I will come haunt you with a vengeance if you treat him ill.”
Kendrick didn’t look particularly intimidated, but he did make the Drummond a small bow. “I will do no more than a brother would do.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Zachary watched the Drummond stride across the hall to join his other undead cohorts. He nodded to the collection of medieval and not-so-medieval nobility gathered at the lord’s table before he changed his mind about breakfast and instead took his own path across the hall. He was happy to leave the others to the dissecting of not only the morning’s events but Franbury’s camcorder.
He loped down the stairs and walked to the stables. Perhaps the location wasn’t exactly the same, but the building more than made up for it in its sheer splendor. Gideon hadn’t been exaggerating when he said his father was keen on horses.
He walked down the aisle until he found Rex. He leaned against the stall door and watched Mary groom her horse. She was just as careful and thorough as she had been almost eight hundred years earlier. Some things didn’t change.
She finished, allowed him to open the door for her, then went to put away her brushes. He shut the stall door, then leaned against it and waited for her to return.
“Will he adjust, do you think?” he asked as she stopped next to him.
“Rex?” she asked. “Aye, easily. Good feed and a little brushing do wonders, apparently.”
He turned her to him and looped his arms around her waist. “And you? How are you?”
“Zachary, the century doesn’t matter as long as I have you.”
“Mary, you’re about to convince me that you love me.”
“I do.” She hugged him briefly. “But I don’t think you’re going to be awake much longer to contemplate that. Let’s go nap in the hayloft.”
“And wake up with your brother’s pitchfork in my gut?” he asked with a laugh. “Not a chance. We’ll take the Range Rover to the beach and nap there where he can’t find us.”
She smiled at him. “Happily. But I have to show you something first.”
He soon found himself sitting on a bale of hay, watching her go inside the stall next to Bella. He shouldn’t have been so happy to be off his feet, but he found he was. It had been a very, very long night and day.
He enjoyed his rest for about thirty seconds until he saw Mary struggling to carry four saddlebags of a medieval make. He set them down on the floor, then sat down next to her and frowned in surprise.
“Did your father send along rocks?”
“Didn’t you look?”
He shook his head. “I was too preoccupied with getting back to the right year.”
She heaved one of the bags up and dropped it on his lap. “Then look now.”
He opened it gingerly and found it full of a collection of rough drawstring bags. Mary took one and spilled part of its contents into her hand.
The gold sparkled dimly in the light from the windows.
“What’s this?” he asked in astonishment.
“My dowry.”
“How do you know?”
She pulled a slip of parchment from the back pocket of her jeans. “My father said as much. Three are mine, one is yours.”
He wouldn’t have been any more surprised if Robin had appeared at the door and said as much. “But why?”
“Because my father said you deserved it,” she said softly. “You were willing to shovel manure for me.”
He put his hand to the back of her head, then leaned over and kissed her softly. “You were reward enough.”
She smiled, hugged him briefly, then pulled away. “How much is it worth in your day? Our day, I should say.”
Zachary shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea.”
She fingered the coins in her hand for a moment. “Could I buy Moraig’s house with this?”
“A thousand times over and still have enough left to splurge on a few hot showers,” he said with a smile. “But you don’t want to live in Scotland, do you?”
She shrugged, though she didn’t look particularly casual. “I just want to live with you. The location doesn’t matter.”
But it mattered to him. Visions of Wyckham floated in front of him. In the summer surrounded by rolling hills and flower-strewn meadows, in the winter surrounded by snow-covered hills and winding country lanes, at sunset, when the plastered walls turned to gold, or pink, or purple.
Mary put the gold back in the pouch, then put it back in the saddlebag.
“You know, this is all yours now,” she said, looking at him with a grave smile.
“Of course it isn’t,” he said without hesitation.
“Of course, it is. That’s what a dowry is for, after all. So a man can keep his knights and horses fed and make certain his roof doesn’t leak. I think my father sent along extra so my horses wouldn’t beggar you.”
Zachary shook his head. “Mary, I can’t take this.”
She brushed the bangs out of his eyes, then leaned forward and kissed him. “Don’t force me to drag you out to the lists and best you there.”
“I think you just might today,” he said. He put his arms around her and held her close for a moment or two in silence, then pulled away. “Let’s talk about it later. All I want now is to escape with you before your brother decides we need a chaperon.”
“I’ll distract him whilst you find a place for this.”
He was happy to let her try. He hauled into the keep saddlebags that were heavy enough that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed them earlier, and then asked Gideon for a room that actually had a lock on it.
One thing was for certain: he was not putting them in Anne’s solar.
Several hours later, he was pulling into Wyckham’s suggestion of a car park. He shut off the engine, then leaned back against the seat and looked at what was left of the castle.
Then it occurred to him that Mary hadn’t seen it in its current state.
“I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t th
ink.”
She looked at him, but her expression was full of understanding and not a little pity. “No wonder you couldn’t stop looking at the place.”
“Well, I was actually trying to distract myself from looking at you, if you want the entire truth,” he admitted, “but yes, I was a little overwhelmed.”
“Might we go inside?”
“It’s your brother’s,” he said with a faint smile. “I don’t think he’ll mind.”
“Kendrick owns Wyckham now?” she asked in surprise.
Zachary nodded. “I’m not sure when he bought it, but it’s definitely his now. The cottage I’ve been working on is right next to it. We can look at both, if you like.”
“Aye, I would.”
He opened her door for her, then locked the car and shoved the keys in his pocket. He walked around the courtyard with her, mourning the loss of things he knew had been there in the past. The garden was overrun, the lists empty, the stables but a fond memory. He walked inside the keep with her, but it was just a shell of its former self. He’d already known that, of course, but seeing it all again through Mary’s eyes was more difficult than he’d imagined it would be.
“Let’s go look at the cottage,” he suggested. “At least it has a roof.”
She nodded, then walked with him out the gates and around the corner of a wall to the little cottage that butted up against the stone.
It had been a charming place to begin with, true, but he had to admit that the improvements had been good ones. There was a large hearth in the great room, with a pair of bedrooms and a bathroom opening off that main room. The kitchen was in the back, dominated by a bright blue Aga sitting in one corner. It was definitely larger than Moraig’s house, but had much of the same charm, only this had been run through a British filter. Every time Zachary walked across the threshold, he felt as if he’d walked back in time fifty years.
Figuratively, of course.
He leaned against a wall and watched Mary wander through the place. She touched wood and stone, ran her fingers over overstuffed furniture and along windowsills, then wandered in and out of the kitchen. She came to a stop in a different doorway.
“What was it like when you first saw it?”
“Bare.”
She smiled. “’Tis lovely. Kendrick must be pleased.”
“I wish he would be slightly less pleased so he would sell it to me.”
“Won’t he?”
He shook his head, but smiled just the same. “We’ll find something, Mary, and I’ll redo it to suit you.”
She looked at him seriously. “I would have lived with the swine and the chickens, Zachary.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
And he did know it. He was also rather relieved that it wouldn’t be necessary. He would have been happy to have had the chance to turn Wyckham into the same bit of magnificence Nicholas de Piaget had created for his love, but perhaps there were things in this life that were simply beyond reach.
He was profoundly grateful that Maryanne de Piaget wasn’t one of them.
He walked over to her, took her into his arms, then held her close for a moment or two before he looked around for a decent place to kneel.
Chapter 32
M ary stood in her mother’s solar, not because there was space for her to dress there, but because her mother would have wanted it so. It was, after all, the chamber where brides traditionally dressed for their weddings. She had help in the form of Elizabeth, Madelyn, and Genevieve, who were fussing with her hair, and Sunshine, who was sitting in the most comfortable chair in the chamber, holding off having her child. Mary wasn’t sure how she was managing it, though she supposed Sunny knew what she was doing.
Madelyn apparently didn’t share her confidence. She looked at her sister with a frown. “The contractions are coming closer together, aren’t they?” she demanded.
Sunny was the picture of serenity. “A bit, but the hypnobirthing is helping.” She smiled. “It’s why we have a helicopter waiting. I have every intention of watching Mary’s wedding. I think, though, that I’m going to go home and have this baby this afternoon.”
“Sunny!” Madelyn exclaimed.
“Shh,” Sunny said with a smile. “You can fly home with us.”
“But Patrick—”
“Is not going to be my midwife,” Sunny said, “no matter how much I love him. Mrs. Gilmarten has delivered over a thousand babies and never lost a mother or a child. She’s waiting with Madame Gies in the kitchen at home. I’ll be fine.” She looked at Mary. “But forgive me if we don’t stay for the dancing afterward.”
Mary looked at Elizabeth. “Let’s hurry.”
Elizabeth arranged a circlet of silver over a veil that was so sheer, Mary could hardly believe it didn’t fall apart when touched.
“You’re ready and you’re lovely,” Elizabeth said, embracing her carefully. “We’ll go ahead to the chapel.”
Madelyn and Sunny squeezed her hands and kissed her cheeks, then left the solar with Elizabeth. Mary looked at Genevieve.
“Are you staying with me?” she asked quietly.
Genevieve linked arms with her. “I am and I would, even if I hadn’t promised Zachary I’d get you safely downstairs. He’s not exactly trusting of that doorway over there, and I can’t say I blame him.” She paused. “And if I can say so, I think your mother would be thrilled with how beautiful you look in that dress.”
“Perhaps she’ll be here in spirit,” Mary said.
“I imagine so.” She smiled and tugged gently. “Let’s go before your brother wears a trench in the floor.”
Mary nodded and walked with her to the door. She hadn’t wept in the past month, but she found that she was tempted at present. She wasn’t unhappy with her life. She simply missed her parents and her cousins. Today, especially.
But somehow the thought of the man who was waiting for her in the chapel eased that more than she would have thought possible.
She took a deep breath, then crossed the threshold behind Genevieve. She honestly couldn’t tell the century from the passageway outside the solar, but when she looked back, she saw the chamber was as they’d left it. She looked at Genevieve, shrugged, then continued on down the passageway with her.
Kendrick was waiting for her downstairs. He was dressed in medieval finery. She stopped still when she saw him, simply because she feared she had taken a wrong turn and landed herself in a century other than her own.
Except Genevieve was there, too.
Kendrick strode forward and caught her by the shoulders. “Are you unwell?”
She shook her head. “Confused.”
He drew her hand under his arm to rest in the crook of his elbow. “That will pass, I imagine, though I’ve no experience with it. Talk to your husband about it this afternoon, for I’m sure he has more tales to tell you than he should.” He shot her a look. “Husband. Appalling.”
“I love him.”
He sighed heavily. “I know. I’m resigned to it. And I’ll grant you that he isn’t completely without redeeming traits.”
“Kendrick, he’s trained with you almost every morning for a month.”
“Only because he knew I wouldn’t let him in the hall door to see you until he had.”
Genevieve sighed, then leaned up and kissed her husband quickly. “I’ll walk ahead to the chapel. Don’t get lost, either of you.”
Kendrick smiled at his wife. “I wouldn’t dare. We’ll be there in a minute.”
Mary watched her walk out the hall and down the stairs, then looked up at her brother. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
He looked at her, his eyes suddenly bright. “I would give you the sort of embrace that flowery sentiment deserves, but I would ruin your hair.” He leaned forward and kissed both her cheeks. “I am very glad you’re here,” he said roughly. “More than I’ll own, of course. Now, let’s be about this before you reduce me to tears.”
She walked with him out of the hall, down the steps,
and across the way to the chapel. It was filled to the brim with her family and Zachary’s. Most of the guests had no choice but to stand, so she hoped the priest would be about his work before they fainted from the press.
She also hoped the priest wouldn’t freak out, as one of Kendrick’s sons would have said. Madelyn’s parents had conferred with him over the phone as to the Latin to be used, and Lord Edward had prepared him for the fact that this was going to be another in a long line of medieval-style ceremonies that Artane was becoming famous for. Mary had felt better knowing it wouldn’t be the first the poor man had celebrated.
And then she caught sight of Zachary and found she couldn’t think about the particulars any longer.
He was simply stunning in the tunic her mother had made for him, black hose, and black boots. His brothers stood in a line next to him along with Jamie, Patrick, Jamie’s cousin Ian, and Cameron. On her side were Gideon, his father, and all Kendrick’s lads. She smiled at the boys, then took a deep breath and concentrated on walking steadily as Kendrick led her to the front of the chapel and put her hand in Zachary’s.
She supposed he didn’t mind that her eyes were leaking, given that his were doing the same thing.
“I love you,” he murmured.
“I love you,” she said, blinking furiously. “I only wish I could see you.”
He smiled, then squeezed her hand.
“A recounting,” Kendrick said solemnly, “of what each will bring to this miraculous union.”
Mary shot him a dark look, but found he was entirely in earnest. He nodded at Zachary’s father.
“After you, sir.”
Mary felt Zachary take a careful breath next to her. She looked up at him, but he only lifted his eyebrows briefly. She knew he was more than a little uncomfortable with what was happening, but Kendrick had been adamant that it was necessary to carry on in a fully medieval fashion so she wouldn’t feel slighted.
She understood Zachary’s reluctance. He had chosen over the course of his life to be modest about his accomplishments and allow those accomplishments to speak for themselves. Perhaps he didn’t have as much gold to his name as Kendrick did—though he would certainly have a staggering amount when he accepted her dowry, which he would do against his will, she was sure—but if she’d found herself either in the wilds of Scotland or another century, there was no one she would rather have had protecting her.