by Lynn Kurland
And now he would have yet another life with his love. It was more than he could ask for and certainly more than he deserved. He stood in the midst of the bailey and put his arms around Victoria, stunned that he could do the like, and smiled at her.
She smiled in return. “You’re cheerful.”
“Can you fault me for it? I have my heart’s desire before me and I can actually hold her with mortal arms. My other choice is to weep, but I dare not lest I lose face with more than just you.”
She looked around, then shrugged. “I don’t see anyone.”
He searched for observers himself, and realized she spoke the truth. It was quite a happy discovery. Connor smiled pleasantly, gathered Victoria closer, and began to be about the business of kissing her as thoroughly as he wanted to.
His knees grew a little weak. They might have buckled, had he not had such iron control over his form.
He buried one of his hands in Victoria’s hair and drew her even closer, finding himself becoming caught up in truly expressing how much he loved her. He felt a little light-headed and supposed it might be time for them both to come up for a bit of air.
Briefly.
He lifted his head, then squawked. In a manly, gruff fashion, of course.
He was surrounded by the Boar’s Head Trio, all staring at him with fierce frowns and folded arms. Even Roderick, that womanly fop, was there, looking displeased.
“Och,” Hugh McKinnon said sternly, “and there’ll be none of that much ado-ing afore the weddin’!”
“I was kissing her!” Connor exclaimed. “Can you fault me for it?”
“We cannot, ’tis true,” Ambrose agreed, clasping his hands behind his back. “Well, carry on.”
“Carry yourselves on—outside my gates,” Connor suggested.
“Can’t,” Fulbert de Piaget said pleasantly.
“Can’t,” Connor repeated in disbelief. “Why the bloody hell not?”
“’Tis our duty as progenitors to watch over her.”
“Watch over her later.”
“We’ll watch now.”
The ghosts resumed their folded arms and gruff expressions. Connor looked at them, then down at Victoria. He sighed.
“Let us return to the inn. We’ll plan the wedding. I daresay ’twill be the only way we have any privacy.”
“One could hope,” she said with a laugh.
Connor bid the ghosts a curt good-night and walked with Victoria from the castle. He supposed perhaps ’twas for the best. There would be time enough, he hoped fervently, for a good deal of kissing and a good deal more later. For now, perhaps it would serve him well to sit and ponder the improbability and good fortune that was his.
A beautiful, spirited woman who loved him.
A time of luxuries and marvels.
And he himself, alive and able to enjoy them all.
“Do you realize you’re running?” Victoria asked, running alongside him.
“I’m in a hurry,” he said. “So much to do.”
And so little time. And so little means. He would have to come to terms with that, and quickly, but for now, he would take his love back to the inn where they had passed so many pleasant evenings together, and rejoice in the fact that she was soon to be his.
He quickened his pace.
The Future was his and he didn’t want it rushing away from him.
Chapter 37
Life was, Victoria decided, indeed very strange. It had been precisely five days since Connor had found his memories—or, rather, his memories had found him. Her wedding had been planned for the upcoming Saturday, with the Earl of Artane happily providing his local vicar to do the honors. Victoria had found herself measured and pinned and prodded several times already in preparation for the big event. Connor had been fitted once, but he’d managed to bellow his way out of any further indignities.
She should have borrowed his sword.
She leaned back in her chair and smiled at the sight around her. Her mother and father were there, as were her granny, Megan, and Gideon. Even Iolanthe was sitting upright and had the barest hint of color. Ghosts filled the room, as well, though out of respect for her father, they weren’t doing much but nodding in appreciation of the talk going on.
Victoria looked at her father and smiled to herself. Now, that had been an interesting situation. When her father had arrived at the inn three days earlier, Connor had presented himself in his best light, sword in hand, and asked politely if he could speak with Lord McKinnon in private. Victoria wouldn’t have been surprised to see her father grab for the phone and dial 911—or whatever it was they had in England. Actually, she wouldn’t have been surprised to have had him dial for American emergency services—he had been that spooked.
But after an appropriately lengthy time in the library, Connor had emerged looking satisfied. Her father had emerged looking slightly green around the gills.
“He says,” her father had said weakly, “that he will provide for you, even if it means using his sword in new and creative ways.” He had paused. “I’m not sure what that means, but I know I’m not going to argue with him. Where in the hell, Victoria, did you find him?”
“Up in the castle, Dad,” she’d said. “He did Hamlet closing night, remember?”
“Yes. He gave me the willies then. I suppose he’ll be giving me the willies every Thanksgiving from now until the day I die.”
“One could hope,” she had said.
“He looks a little more substantial now than before,” her father had said, eyeing the dining room as a possible refuge. “Has he gained weight?”
“We should probably talk about that later, Dad,” she’d called after him as he departed for safer ground in the kitchen.
Unfortunately for her father, Connor had followed him shortly thereafter for precisely the same reason.
But now, her dad was calmer about, if not exactly clearer on, when Connor had first appeared in her life and where she’d met him. Her mother and her granny had listened with rapt attention to all the details.
While her dad was in the kitchen again, of course.
All of which left her sitting happily with her family and sundry around her, with her life completely changed for the better and, as usual, Thomas to thank for it. But those thanks might be mitigated if she ever discovered where he’d taken her groom. They’d gone off together that morning, thick as thieves, to be about some kind of mischief. If Thomas led him astray . . .
The door to the sitting room burst open and Victoria jumped. Jennifer stood there, her eyes wide.
Victoria was on her feet without any knowledge of how she’d gotten there. “What is it? An accident?”
“You have to come to the castle.”
“What is it?” she said, dashing for the door and pulling her sister with her. “Is it Connor?”
“Not exactly.”
Victoria slowed to a walk. “Not exactly?”
“Well, he’s involved in it. So is Thomas.” Jennifer paused. “I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
Victoria looked behind her to see the rest of the sitting room inhabitants trailing after her. What was this, a surprise bridal shower? A bachelor party for Connor, to which she was invited?
“Is this a joke?” she asked her sister sternly.
“Just come and look.”
Victoria sighed and walked quickly with Jennifer to the place where she’d first seen Connor as a ghost. She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t find him in like condition this time.
She hurried up the path and through the barbican gate. Then she came to a teetering halt. In fact, it was so teetering that she tipped forward and stuck her foot into a hole.
It was one of many holes that were scattered all over the inner bailey.
“What in the world is going on here?” she said aloud. She looked at her sister. “What’s going on? Giant moles? Small children running amok with shovels and pails?”
Jennifer pointed to the stage. “There are the perps.”
“Are you in on this?”
“I was just taking an innocent walk,” Jennifer said, holding up her hands. “The damage was done before I stumbled on the scene of the crime.”
Victoria pulled her foot out of the hole and picked her way around a dozen or so more before she managed to get herself within spitting distance of the stage. She put her hands on her hips and prepared, all her former resolutions aside, to control the destinies of the two idiots in front of her.
Bellowing was unnecessary, apparently. Before she had the time to think up an appropriately dire threat or two, bums began to wiggle out from under the stage.
She kicked her brother’s. She didn’t dare kick Connor’s.
“Hey,” Thomas said, sitting up and cracking his head sharply against the edge of the wood, “who did that?”
“A ghost,” Victoria said crisply. “What are you doing demolishing my venue? This may be the only venue I have, you know.”
Connor heaved a small chest out from under the stage and dropped it at her feet. He smiled up at her.
All right, so his face was smudged with dirt and he had obviously been in on—if not the instigator of—all the digging. When he smiled, she just couldn’t do anything but smile back.
“I like that,” Thomas said crossly, rubbing his head. “I get the boot and you get the doe eyes.”
“’Tis all those centuries of living well,” Connor said in a superior tone. He beckoned to Victoria. “Come, lady, and look at what we’ve found.”
She walked around to look over his shoulder. “It looks like a wooden box.”
“It looks like a treasure chest,” Jennifer offered, coming to stand next to her.
“It could be filled with gold,” Connor said enthusiastically.
“It could be filled with petrified chamber-pot contents,” Victoria countered.
“An Englishman buried it here,” Connor said, tossing her a brief frown. “He dressed very well. It was with no small regret that I caused him to ruin his trousers.”
“See?” Victoria said. “I told you so. Chamber pot.”
Thomas looked around. “Crowbar anyone?”
“Boy Scout knife,” John McKinnon said, coming to kneel down next to Connor. “Say, Connor, how did you know this was here? You saw someone bury this? Why would someone recently bury an antique?”
Victoria coughed to cover up a laugh. Connor was still trying to digest all her father’s questions and Thomas was lying through his teeth as quickly as he could. By the time he had the chest open, her father looked thoroughly confused.
But Connor was chortling. He looked up at her triumphantly. “Shiny, aye?”
“Worth lots,” Thomas added happily, wiggling his fingers purposefully. “I suppose you won’t starve now.”
“We wouldn’t have starved, anyway,” Victoria said absently, “but if it makes you happy . . .”
John looked at his son. “I still don’t get it. Why would someone bury old coins in a derelict castle while a big guy like Connor was watching? I know the idyllic countryside can get to you over here, but—”
“John, love,” Mary called, “I’m a little chilled. Will you walk me and your lovely wife back to the inn?”
Victoria looked over in time to catch her grandmother’s very unsubtle wink.
“Well . . . ,” Victoria’s father said doubtfully.
“Brrr,” Mary said, rubbing her arms vigorously.
John frowned, then reluctantly walked away. “Take good notes, Victoria. I want the whole story later.”
“Sure, Dad,” she said. She waited until the little party was gone before she turned back to the find. Connor and Thomas were almost giggling. Even Gideon had knelt down next to the box and was happily examining its contents. Victoria looked at her sisters.
“Who do you think will fill the holes back in?”
“You,” Jennifer said promptly. “But do it today so you’ll have time to get all the dirt out from under your fingernails before the wedding. Come on, Megan. You look a little flushed. You aren’t going into labor, are you?”
“I’m due any minute,” Megan said.
“Then let’s get you back to the inn,” Jennifer said. “You don’t want to have your baby up here in the castle, do you? Wow, what an audience you’d have.”
“Not funny, Jenner.”
“Megan, I don’t think you’d find anything funny right now. Gideon, don’t dawdle!”
“I’m coming posthaste,” he called after them.
Victoria watched her sisters leave the keep, followed by three grandfatherly ghosts, who seemed to have quite a lot to say to Jennifer. Victoria wondered if she was next on their hit list.
Victoria smiled to herself and supposed her sister would survive any matchmaking those three might do for her. It had certainly worked out well in her own case.
She turned back to the diggers and put her hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Well, what do you think?”
“I think I now have a way to feed you,” he said, smiling broadly. “What do you think, Lord Blythwood?”
“It’s just Gideon,” Gideon said, flashing him a brief smile, “and I think you have made out quite well here. Oddly enough, I just happen to have the name and telephone number of a coin dealer.” He paused for a moment. “I have a friend who recently purchased a substantial amount of medieval coins from this particular dealer. The dealer would no doubt be pleased to replenish his supply, even though these don’t look to be from the same era.”
“Why would anyone want to buy a bunch of medieval coins?” Thomas asked.
Gideon smiled. “It’s a very long story. I’ll tell you later if you’re really interested. For now, let me help you haul these down to the inn. I can’t leave Megan for long.”
Victoria stood back and waited while Connor, Gideon, and Thomas heaved the box up and carried it out of the inner bailey. She followed them back to the inn and watched with a smile as they muscled their burden into the library. She was still standing in the foyer when Jennifer came out of the sitting room.
“This is good,” Jennifer said.
“This is fabulous,” Victoria corrected. “His ego will be saved. Dozens of potential victims will be spared. Cattle will remain on grazing lands where they belong, instead of finding their way into Thorpewold Castle.”
Jennifer laughed. “You know, you’re the one who fell in love with him. He can’t help being a medieval laird.”
“I don’t blame him. He is what he is and I wouldn’t change him.” She looked at her sister with a smile. “There’s something to be said for fourteenth-century chivalry.”
“I’m sure there is. Why can’t we graduate these kinds of men from law school? Connor doesn’t have a brother, does he?”
“He has a cousin, but I think he had to stay behind to lead the clan. I guess you’re stuck with what Manhattan can produce.”
Jennifer laughed. “Heaven help me.” She smiled wistfully. “I envy you. He is quite a man.”
Victoria had never been envied before, at least not to her knowledge and certainly not about her love life.
She had to admit that she envied herself.
She paused in the entryway and listened to the laughter coming from inside the library. There were Thomas and Gideon, of course, but rising above it all now and again was Connor’s mirth, something she had never expected to hear.
Certainly not coming from him in a mortal way.
“The gift that keeps on giving,” Jennifer whispered from beside her.
“The gold?”
“The man.”
It was true and all the more wonderful for its being unexpected.
“The gift that keeps on giving,” Victoria whispered to herself with a smile.
Another laugh from inside the library interrupted her musings. She smiled at Jennifer, then followed her over to the sitting room, leaving the men to their newfound treasure.
Life was good and cattle for miles were now safe.
It didn’
t get much better than that.
Chapter 38
Connor leaned over the counter and peered into the glass jars. He lifted one, sniffed vigorously, then pulled back and sneezed heartily.
“What, by all the saints, is that?”
“Red raspberry leaf,” Victoria said.
“What purpose does it serve?”
The girl behind the counter, the one with the silver ball coming out the side of her nose and the ring through her eyebrow, sighed wearily. “Female complaints.”
Connor put the jar back with alacrity. “I think I’ll leave all these things alone.”
“That might be best.”
Connor leaned against the counter and let Victoria be about her business. He looked about the Tempest in a Teapot and wondered how Victoria had managed to get her theatergoers out of this place with all its marvelous smells that seemed to make him want to go to sleep and up the stairs to the theater. Perhaps her patrons were made of sterner stuff than he.
And it had taken a bit of stern stuff to acclimate himself so quickly to all that Manhattan had to offer. Indeed, the past fortnight had been a whirlwind of activity, starting with the selling of part of his buried treasure and finishing with trying to get to sleep in Victoria’s small apartment that seemed to be in a place in the city where no one ever slept. And sandwiched between those two events had been a quite lovely wedding and a highly enjoyable honeymoon at Artane.
No wonder Thomas and Iolanthe went so often to visit. Connor had seen the sea before, of course, but there was something quite magical about visiting a keep that stood so close to the shore.
That might have had something to do with the company, though.
He looked at Victoria and couldn’t help a smile. By the saints, she was magnificent, in looks and temperament both. He reached out and smoothed a hand down her hair before he could stop himself.
She smiled briefly at him, then turned back to her business.
“Look, Moonbat, I just want to talk to Mr. Chi.”
“He’s meditating.”
Connor pursed his lips. He’d heard all about the forced takeover of Victoria’s space by a man who apparently twisted himself into uncomfortable shapes and made his fortune teaching others to do the same. Victoria did not have fond feelings for the man. Connor could not blame her, given that the man had laid siege to her theater.