well. When Victoria was in the heat of battle, there was no conversing with her. He watched Thomas walk across the bailey to join him at the wall.

"MacDougal," Thomas said.

"McKinnon," Connor replied.

"I see my sister is still in full possession of herself and her sanity. I can only assume you haven't begun to

terrify her."

Connor grunted. "She promised me a full month of screams if I left her and her company alone for the duration of her play." Thomas's mouth fell open. "She did?" "Aye." "And you agreed?" "The wench is a canny bargainer." Thomas looked at him in astonishment. "I can't believe it. I think you're actually getting along with her." "She is-outside of your fair grandmother and our good Lady Blythwood-the exception in your family.

It must be, and this galls me to say as much, the MacLeod blood in her veins."

Thomas's mouth fell open for a moment or two, then he began to grin. "Interesting."

"Interesting would be watching your head leave your shoulders."

"But then who would entertain you?" Thomas asked. "Victoria? She's too busy running her rehearsals.

You'll have to settle for me." He paused and looked at his sister. "I can't believe she's at it today."

"What else is she to do? She grieves."

"She doesn't look particularly overwrought."

"Fool," Connor said succinctly. "If she stops moving, she will break her own heart with weeping."

Thomas's mouth fell open again.

Connor glared at him. The man would begin to catch all manner of bug life in that trap if he did not close

it soon. Connor felt somewhat compelled to say as much.

Thomas shut his mouth. He managed to maintain a neutral expression, but there was the hint of a twinkle in his eye. "You seem to have a good handle on what she's feeling."

"Go to hell, McKinnon," Connor said. "And leave the keys to my keep behind before you set off. I weary of your kin disturbing my peace."

"Do you?" Thomas asked, beginning to smile. "You don't seem all that tired."

Connor blustered a bit. He examined several lies he could have told, lies about his irritation at having

Victoria McKinnon underfoot all day and his weariness over having to look after her at night. But prevarication was not in his nature.

So he settled for a glare.

Thomas laughed. "I'm sure you're just being nice to Vic so you can really give her a good scare later."

There was no good response for that, either.

Thomas laughed. He continued to chuckle until he saw Michael Fellini coming his way. He frowned. "Is that her star?"

"Aye."

"I don't like the look of him."

"I daresay your opinion will not improve upon meeting him."

Thomas seemed to consider Fellini as he walked toward them. Fellini looked about him suspiciously, as

if he searched for something he could not see. But by the time he reached them, he had put on a smooth smile. He extended a hand to Thomas.

"You must be Victoria's brother."

"Thomas McKinnon," Thomas said, shaking the man's hand. "You must be Michael Fellini. Victoria sang your praises the last time we talked."

Fellini preened. It was all Connor could do to keep his thoughts, and his sword, to himself.

"Your sister is too kind. But," he said, lowering his voice as if he wished to draw Thomas in, "I have to admit to being worried about her."

Thomas leaned in and put on a greatly exaggerated look of interest. "Really? Why?"

"She's working herself to exhaustion. I'm afraid it's going to damage her health."

Thomas nodded solemnly. "She really gets involved in productions and it's impossible to pry her away

from them. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Well, as you probably know, I am a fabulous director," Fellini said helpfully. "I make my living teaching,

but I can do, as well. If you think it would be helpful, I could offer to take some pressure off Victoria.But only if you think it would help. I certainly wouldn't want to intrude." "The hell you wouldn't," Connor said distinctly. Michael blinked, then looked at Thomas in surprise. "Did you say something?" "It was the wind," Thomas said. "A foul, unpleasant east wind, no doubt. You know, I appreciate the offer and I'll see what I can talk Vic into. She's pretty stubborn."

Fellini smiled pleasantly. "Yes, I've noticed. Just keep in mind that I'll be happy to help if you need it. By

directing."

Thomas nodded. Connor stroked the hilt of his sword fondly as he watched Fellini walk off.

"You don't like him, do you?" Thomas asked quietly.

"I do not. I don't trust him, either."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "This is novel. We two on the same side of a fight."

"When the enemy is a turncoat of that water, what else can we do? But do not expect this happy

collaboration to last," Connor warned.

"I wouldn't," Thomas said sincerely. "Oh, look, the crew is packing up. Gotta run."

Connor allowed him to go without offering any post-collaboration threats. If he chose to bedevil Thomas

McKinnon, it would be at a later time. Perhaps he would save such misery as something to be savored after the play was finished. For now, 'twas enough to give it a bit of thought whilst the company went about the business of securing the stage for the night.

Thomas badgered Victoria until she shouted at him to go back to the inn and wait for her to finish. He threw up his hands and walked away. Connor pursed his lips. By the saints, the man had lived with Victoria for years; had he no idea how to manage her?

Connor waited, quite wisely to his mind, until all the work was finished, the crew had departed, and Victoria had given Fred his final instructions for the day before he dared even contemplate leaving his place against the wall. Then he waited for several long moments as she made herself at home on the bench set against the side of the great hall. It was only then that he dared walk over and sit down next to her. But he didn't speak. She was no doubt reviewing her actors' performances in her head and wouldn't wish to be interrupted.

Finally, she lifted her head and looked at him. "Long day," she said wearily.

"Mistress Blankenship is improving," he offered.

"I was too hard on her."

Connor shook his head. "She was overacting. Best to pluck the desire from her before it takes full root.

You did no more than you had to."

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For everything."

"A courageous man makes the best of his situation," he said lightly. "And your actors are more interesting

than the tourists who usually drive me to madness during the summer months." "No, not for letting us inside the castle," she said slowly. "Thank you for last night. And yesterday. And today." She looked down at the dirt between her feet. "I needed a show of support."

"Of course you didn't," he said promptly. "I've never seen a wench soldier on as you do. You didn't need me." She smiled fleetingly. "Thomas wants to see where we were on Saturday, when I was off yakking with Michael while my granny was going heaven knows where." "The fault is equally mine. I should have stayed with her," Connor said grimly. "Thomas wants to go back to the picnic site." She paused. "I wonder if there might be clues we missed." " 'Tis possible," Connor conceded. She sighed and rose. "I imagine my parents will be here soon. I should go figure out where they're going to sleep." "No doubt Mrs. Pruitt has matters well in hand." "That's what I'm afraid of. Let's go." Connor walked back to the inn with her. The way seemed shorter than ever. Perhaps he had passed too many decades of his undeath denying himself the company of other goodly souls. He was not unhappy to be remedying that. There was much to be said for amiable company and the inn certainly seemed to provide it.

He hadn't put foot to the inn's garden path, however, before he heard quite unwholesome and less-than-friendly sounds coming from inside.

"Trouble," Victoria said with a sigh.

"Fellini," Connor identified.

"Heaven help me."

Connor suspected even heaven couldn't do anything with that miserable excuse for a man, but he

followed her to the inn just the same. He passed through the entryway after her and frowned fiercely at the goings on there.

"I will not give up my room!" Fellini bellowed. "I don't care who's here!" "In a time of crisis," Mrs. Pruitt said crisply, "we are all called upon to make sacrifices. Whilst Mistress Victoria's kin are under me care, they'll have suitable chambers. There is ample room in the King of Denmark's room for a cot. You and His Majesty may come to blows over who takes it, but do not do so in me entry way!"

Fellini was in midscreech as Thomas walked out of the dining room.

Fellini shut his mouth with a snap.

Thomas threw Connor a look before he walked over to the treacherous viper. "Are there problems with

the rooms?" he asked in an easy voice.

"No, no, of course not," Fellini said.

Mrs. Pruitt scowled, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry to displace you," Thomas continued, "but Mrs. Pruitt was kind enough to rearrange things so

my wife and I could stay here in the inn. You know, this being the site of the tragedy and all."

Fellini nodded, but to Connor's eye seemed to be having a hard time swallowing his rage.