"I should have been somewhat suspicious myself," he said dryly. "Because your little adventures were not all that tiny, insignificant, or accidental. Your recklessness is enough to turn a man old before his time."

"I regret every single one of them," Phoebe declared passionately. "And I swear there will never be any more."

Gabriel laughed softly. "I am, of course, delighted to hear that." He wrapped his hand around the back of her head and brought her mouth close to his. "In the meantime, just keep telling me that you love me and I vow I will not mind the occasional bout of recklessness. So long as I am with you to look after you, that is."

"I love you," Phoebe whispered.

"I love you," Gabriel said against her lips. "More than life itself."

Phoebe scheduled the grand tournament at Devil's Mist to coincide with the publication of A Reckless Venture. Both the event and the book were successful beyond her wildest dreams.

On the night of the tournament ball the great hall of Devil's Mist was thronged with people in medieval costume. The columns of old armor looked very much at home amid the gaily dressed crowd. Music echoed off the old stone walls. All in all, Phoebe thought proudly, the castle looked quite as it must have appeared several hundred years ago when medieval knights and their ladies had gathered here for a festive occasion.

"What a clever daughter I have," Lydia said with satisfaction as she surveyed the great hall. "You, my dearest Phoebe, have achieved an absolutely brilliant social coup."

"You mean the staging of the mock tournament this afternoon?" Phoebe smiled. "That was rather clever of me, wasn't it? I couldn't have done it without Wylde's help, however. I must admit he handled most of the details. I was rather worried that horses might accidentally crash into each other or someone might actually hit someone else with one of the battle-axes. But it all came off perfectly."

Lydia's brows rose in amusement. "The tournament was great fun, but that is not the coup I was talking about. Your stroke of brilliance, Phoebe, was in being able to present the author of The Quest to the Social World. Your stature as a hostess is assured for years to come."

"It wasn't easy," Phoebe confided. "Wylde was very set against being identified as the author of such a successful book. I believe that when it comes to that sort of thing he is rather shy. Amazing, is it not?"

"Most amazing," Lydia agreed. She smiled at her husband as he ambled over. "There you are, my dear. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Quite." Clarington took a sip from the champagne glass he was holding and gazed about the room. "Fascinating old place. Looked at some of the armor earlier. Very ingeniously made. Did I tell you that this morning Wylde demonstrated the workings of an extremely unusual machine down in the cellars? It's hidden in the wall and it contrives to open and close a gate. Have you seen it, Phoebe?"

Phoebe shuddered at the memory. "Yes, Papa, I have seen it."

"The pulley system is quite advanced in design. Especially when you consider that it was fashioned several hundred years ago."

"I know, Papa." Phoebe broke off as Meredith and her husband approached.

Meredith was radiant as always in a pale pink gown edged in silver. Trowbridge, handsome in his tunic costume, smiled at Phoebe.

"Most unusual affair, Phoebe," Trowbridge said. "Vastly entertaining. Highly successful, I should say."

"Yes, indeed," Meredith agreed. "You have made a stunning debut as a hostess, Phoebe. And I must tell you that everyone is commenting on your unusual jewelry. You are the envy of every woman here."

Phoebe smiled, aware of the weight of the Wylde necklace around her throat. "Do you like it?"

"Very much," Meredith said. "Not everyone could wear those strange pearls, but on you they are perfect. And they go wonderfully well with that rather bright red gown of yours."

"Thank you." Phoebe glanced down at the skirts of her crimson red dress. "I had another red gown I wanted to wear, one that Wylde purchased for me. But he reminded me that it was not precisely medieval in style. I had this one made instead."

Anthony appeared out of the crowd. "You had better see to your husband, Phoebe. He wants rescuing from several admirers. They appear to have trapped him over there near the door."

Phoebe stood on tiptoe until she saw Gabriel. He was standing beneath the arched doorway, surrounded by several eager-looking people. He caught Phoebe's eye and sent her a look that held desperate appeal.

"Excuse me," Phoebe said to her family. "Anthony is right. I must go and rescue Wylde."

She picked up her skirts and forged a path through the crowd until she reached Gabriel's side. He grabbed her hand.

"I wonder if I might have a word alone with my wife," he said to the group gathered around him.

The small gaggle of admirers took the hint and reluctantly moved off into the crowd. Gabriel turned on Phoebe.

"I told you this was an extremely unsound notion," he said. "I do not like this business of being a famous author."

"Nonsense," Phoebe said. "Most of the time you will be safe enough here at Devil's Mist. Surely you can handle a few admirers on the rare occasion such as tonight."

"The occasions had better be extremely rare," Gabriel warned. His eyes gleamed.

"They will be," Phoebe promised. She gave him a gloating smile. "And just think of what it will do for your career. I'll wager we shall have to go back to print for another five or six thousand copies after this lot returns to London. Everyone here cannot wait to inform his or her friends of the true identity of the author of The Quest. Lacey's Bookshop will make another tidy little fortune."

"What a mercenary mind you have, my dear."

"It's in the blood," she assured him cheerfully. "In my case it just took a bit longer to reveal itself."

"When are you going to tell your family that you are Lacey's partner?"

"Eventually." Phoebe laughed up at him. "But first there is something I wish to tell you."

Gabriel eyed her warily. "Another little secret you have forgotten to mention?"

"A very little secret." Phoebe blushed. "I believe I am with child, my lord."

Gabriel stared at her for a few dumbfounded seconds. His green eyes became very brilliant and he gave her a slow smile. "I did not think I could be any happier than I already am, my love. But I see I was wrong." He pulled her into his arms.

"For goodness' sake, Gabriel." Phoebe was shocked in spite of herself. She hastily glanced around in alarm. "What on earth do you think you are doing? You would not dare kiss me here in front of all these people."

Gabriel looked up at the motto etched in stone above his head. AUDKO. He grinned. "Now, that is where you are wrong, my love. I would most certainly dare. And what is more, you will kiss me back because you are just as daring and just as reckless as I am."

He captured her mouth, kissing her with the love he had been saving up all of his life. Phoebe wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

"I think," she whispered, "that I would like to name our first son Arthur."

"Of course," Gabriel agreed, warm, loving laughter gleaming in his eyes. "What else would we call him? And when we have our Arthur, we shall set about creating an entire Round Table to accompany him."

"So long as you don't mind the fact that some of our young knights will be female," Phoebe stipulated.

"Not in the least." Gabriel's arms tightened around her again. "I won't pretend that I don't find the idea of having several daughters who take after their reckless lady mother somewhat daunting, but I expect I will rise to the challenge."

"I am sure you will, my lord. You always do."