"I hope," she said.

He ran with her to the inn, then waited whilst she stood outside the front door, leaning against the door frame to catch her breath. She gulped in air for a few moments, then shook her head.

"I need to exercise more," she said. "You would think that yelling at actors all day would be workout enough, wouldn't you?"

"You need time in the lists," Connor said wisely. "It aids not only strength of body, but agility of mind, as well as having the added benefit of according you the useful skill of being able to do someone in."

She blew her hair out of her eyes. "I wish I could get Michael Fellini there. Damn him for not caring!"

"I am unsurprised," Connor said, pursing his lips.

Victoria looked up at him. "You don't like him."

"You know I do not."

She shook her head with a sigh. "You're right about him, of course. I should have seen it earlier." She looked at the front door, then put her hand on the doorknob. "I can only hope we'll find her inside."

Connor nodded, but he held out little hope they would find Victoria's grandmother safely tucked away inside the inn.

They didn't.

Chapter 10.

Victoria sat in the chair, staring into the darkened hearth. There was only one lamp on and it did little to relieve the gloom. She wasn't sure what time it was. She suspected it was no longer Saturday, which meant it had to be Sunday. The fact that she could still tell the difference was probably a very good thing.

Yesterday was a blur. She remembered running an abysmal rehearsal in the morning. She remembered a picnic with her granny and Michael's very odd questions. She remembered returning to the blanket and finding her grandmother gone. She remembered a frantic return to the inn, only to have her suspicions confirmed.

The bobbies had been subsequently summoned. She was fairly sure she had answered questions, waited while others answered questions, then answered more questions. It had seemed to take most of the afternoon and quite a bit of the evening. Then the bobbies had gone. More were promised for the morning.

Mrs. Pruitt had deposited a tea tray in the sitting room, lit a single lamp, and left her alone.

Only she hadn't been alone.

She looked away from the cold hearth. There, in a hard chair across the room, sat a dark-haired man, tall and broad-shouldered. His head was bowed, his hands were clasped. He lifted his head and looked at her, silently.

She sighed. "I need to call my family."

He started to rise. "I'll go-"

"Don't," she said quickly, then hesitated. "That is... if you wouldn't mind staying..."

He sat. "Of course."

She stared at him for several moments in silence, then looked down at her hands. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"For staying. For my granny."

He cleared his throat. "It isn't for her."

Victoria looked up in surprise.

"Well, not entirely," he amended.

She hardly knew what to say to that. Here was a man who a short time ago was ready to scare the living daylights out of her, and now he was... well... not. She smiled briefly. "Thank you for that, as well," she said. "Laird MacDougal." "Connor," he said. She looked up at him, dry-eyed. "Connor?" " 'Tis my pleasure and duty to render aid to you," he said formally, "Mistress-" "Victoria," she interrupted. "It's just Victoria." He paused for several moments. "Victoria," he said, finally. She shivered. She was certain that shiver had everything to do with the lateness of the hour and absolutely nothing to do with the fact that a man she could never have and probably shouldn't even be talking to had just said her name in a way that sent chills down her spine. She looked for the phone. She was losing it. She had to get on with the phone calls she dreaded making while she still had some small hold on her sanity.

She never should have allowed her granny to stay in England. The smartest thing to have done would have been to heave her grandmother's bags back in the taxi and point the driver toward the train station. Actually, what she should have done was to tell Thomas to take his castle and go to hell. She never would have hired Michael Fellini, never would have had Gerard flee for less-haunted ground, never would have had her grandmother come to rescue her.

She never would have met Connor MacDougal.

She put her face in her hands. It was hopeless...

Then she sat up straight and rubbed her hands over her face, as if she had intended to do that all along.

Giving in to discouragement was not her habit She put her shoulders back and turned to face the problem. She also couldn't help a small peek at Connor, just to see if he'd seen her weakness.

He was watching her with a grave expression.

"I'm fine," she said briskly.

"I never doubted it."

"I'm just not sure who to call first." She paused. "I don't think I'm ready to hear what my mother will say."

He cleared his throat. "This is none of my affair," he began slowly, "but..." He hesitated, as if he didn't dare speak his mind quite so fully as he would have liked.

"Go ahead," she said, waving him on. "If you have an opinion, offer it. I'm fresh out of ideas."

He chewed on his next words as if he couldn't quite bring himself to give voice to them. "It galls me to

admit this, but your brother is... um... not unwise." She blinked. "You think I should call Thomas?" "He is not a complete fool." "That's high praise." "If you tell him I said as much, I will deny it." She smiled in spite of herself, then sobered. "He'll kill me." Connor frowned. "Why?" "This is all my fault." "Victoria, your grandmere was a woman of ripe age and well-developed canniness. She could see to herself." Victoria wanted to believe it. She knew her grandmother was clever. She also knew her grandmother had her knitting bag and there were at least a few things that might qualify as a weapon in there. But it was hard to think of her out on her own.

She shook her head to clear it, then reached for the phone. She dialed Thomas's number, her hands shaking so badly she could hardly manage it. It rang three times. Iolanthe answered. "Hello?" Ah, such a lovely Scottish lilt. Victoria closed her eyes briefly. "Iolanthe, this is Victoria." She wanted to say more, but found that she couldn't. Iolanthe was silent for a moment or two, as well. "Is aught amiss, sister?" Well, there was no sense in beating around the bush. "My grandmother has gone missing." "Missing?" "Vanished without a trace. Well, not without a trace. She left her key and sunglasses behind. But there were no signs of a struggle. And her knitting bag was gone. She never went anywhere without it, you know, just in case she had a spare minute to work another row or two." Victoria paused. "She was working on a sweater."

She knew she was babbling; she couldn't seem to help herself.

Iolanthe was silent for another eternity. Victoria wondered if her sister-in-law had moved away from morning sickness and on to all-day sickness and was now struggling to keep her dinner down. "I'll fetch Thomas," Iolanthe said suddenly. Victoria reached for her tea and downed it cold. It didn't give her any courage, but it did wet her whistle enough that she thought she might be able to spar verbally with her brother.

"Vic?"

Then again, maybe not. What she wanted to do was break down and bawl like a baby. The only thing that kept her from it was the fact that she would be doing it in front of Connor and Thomas both. She would never live it down. She took a deep breath. "I lost her."

"You lost who?"

"I lost Granny. I left her sitting on a blanket and when I came back, she was gone. It's my fault. I was off making nice to one of my actors."

"Fellini?"

"Thomas," she said, through gritted teeth, "what difference does it make which one?"

"I'm just curious."

"You idiot, I just lost our grandmother!" she bellowed.

"Did you call the cops?"

"Yes, I called the cops."

"Were there signs of foul play?"

Victoria rubbed the spot between her eyes that was starting to throb. "No."

"So, you're telling me she just wandered off?"

"I don't have conclusive evidence to that fact, but all things seem to point to it."

"Vic, you should have been a lawyer."

"Thomas!"

"We'll be there as soon as we can get a flight out."

"Really?" she asked, surprised. "You will?"

"Of course. What else would I do?"

"I don't know," she said with a deep sigh. "But if you're going to come, hurry."

"Get off the phone so I can."

Victoria slammed the phone down. She glared at Connor. "He's a jerk."

Connor rubbed his fingers over his mouth, as if he fought an expression that begged to come out.

"Are you smiling?" she asked suspiciously.

He shook his head. "Nay. It merely warms my heart to hear you give your brother the drubbing he so richly deserves."

"He's coming right away."

"If the straits were not so dire, I would be happy to welcome him with a few shriek-inducing antics."

Connor pursed his lips. "The saints only know what runs through his mind."

"Mindless babble," Victoria said. She was relieved, though. It should have galled her. She was certainly as capable as her brother of handling all kinds of crises. And it wasn't as if Thomas had spent the whole of their youth bailing her out of scrapes. More often than not, he'd been at the bottom of her troubles.

But he had once or twice been there for her when she really needed someone-unasked and without undue I-told-you-so activity afterward. Maybe this would be another thing to add to that very short list. She sighed. "Well, I guess I have no choice but to call my mom and dad now. I'm not looking forward to this." She looked at him. "My mother will be devastated."

"If your dam is anything like her dam, she will bear it well enough," Connor said. "A right fearsome wench is your granny." The phone rang. Victoria picked it up out of habit, then wondered if she should have let Mrs. Pruitt do it. Too late now.

"Hello?" she said hesitantly.

"Have you called Mom and Dad?"

She sighed. "No. Do you want to?"

"Sure," Thomas said. "I'll call you right back."

Victoria hung up and looked at Connor. "Thomas is calling my parents. We'll see how they hold up."

She paused. "You don't suppose that my granny-" "I do not," he said sharply. "And neither should you. She is well and sound and counting on you to come fetch her. I daresay the authorities are skilled enough, but they have not our inducement to find her."

Victoria nodded her head and stared at the phone. That didn't keep her from jumping again when it rang. She looked at Connor, then picked up the phone. "Yes?" "Mom and Dad are okay." Victoria let out her breath slowly. "Are they really?" Thomas laughed a bit. "Mom said not to worry. Dad said, and I quote, 'The woman never goes anywhere without a bag full of steel needles. She even terrorized me a time or two with them. She'll be fine.'"

Victoria managed a wan smile. "I can see Granny taking Dad to task."

"Well, I'm sure she'll show back up to do it again."

"I hope so."

"Dad's booking their flights right now and I'll do the same. Why don't you go get some sleep. We'll all be

there, probably the day after tomorrow, and straighten everything out."