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The music drifts softly from inside, and we sway more than waltz. Jane relaxes gradually, her head eventually resting against my shoulder.

— Callum? she murmurs.

— Mm?

— Thank you. No one’s ever stood up for me like that.

Something tightens in my chest. I look down at her, fighting the sudden urge to kiss her.

— Then the people in your life were fools, I say simply.

Two hours later,the party is in full swing. The dance incident has faded into the background, replaced by new memorable moments: Lachlan spilled whisky on the minister, Keira launched into an impromptu contemporary dance in the middle of a traditional reel, and Hamish—who somehow made it inside—ate half the floral arrangements before being escorted out.

I’m standing on the terrace, enjoying a rare moment of quiet, when I hear footsteps behind me.

— So this is where you’re hiding.

Jane joins me, two glasses of whisky in hand. She offers me one before leaning against the railing beside me.

— I’m not hiding, I say. I’m getting some air.

— Of course. And I just stepped out to admire the stars—not at all to escape your cousin Meredith, who insists on telling me the full story of all six of her deliveries.

I wince in sympathy.

— Did she tell you about the one where the baby came out?—

— Yes! she cuts in with a shudder. In detail. With hand gestures. She even tried to show me pictures… I will never look at a watermelon the same way again.

We laugh together, then fall into a quiet silence, gazing out at the landscape. The night is clear, the sky scattered with brilliant stars.

— It’s beautiful, she murmurs. In Los Angeles, you never see this many stars because of the light pollution.

— One of the advantages of living in the middle of nowhere, I say. The nights are spectacular when it’s not raining.

— You really love this place, don’t you? she asks, studying me.

— It’s my home, I reply simply. These hills, this castle, this land… they’re part of me in a way I can’t really explain.

— You don’t have to. I’m starting to understand.

She looks back up at the sky.

— I didn’t think I’d get attached to this place, she admits. It was just supposed to be temporary. An escape. But now…

She trails off.

— But now? I prompt.

— Now I understand why you fight so hard to protect it. There’s something special here. Something beyond the land and the stones.

Her words echo something deep inside me.

— Exactly, I murmur. My father used to say we don’t own this land—we’re just its temporary guardians. Our duty is to preserve it for the generations that come after.

— That’s a beautiful philosophy.

— It is. Though sometimes… overwhelming. Carrying centuries of responsibility can be suffocating.