Friend.

Damn her, what was she thinking?

She was thinking that he was hardly a man she would look at twice for anything else.

"Connor?"

Connor blinked and looked at Ambrose. "Aye?"

"What are your thoughts on this?"

"My thoughts?" Connor mused. "I wouldn't be surprised if Victoria vowed to go on her own. Indeed, I

would only be surprised if she did not take on this task."

"And if she does?" Ambrose said. "And I agree with you, by the way, that she will believe herself responsible. If she does make the attempt, will you go with her?"

Connor nodded. "I had already planned to. I daresay she'll need all the friends she can bring along." Ambrose looked at him in surprise for a moment or two, then he began to smirk. Not much and only forthe time it took him to put his hand over his mouth as if he yawned, but it was enough. Ambrose held out his hand in a calming motion before Connor could remember where he'd put his damned sword.

Propped up by his chair by the fire in the library, apparently.

"Does she consider you such?" Ambrose asked.

"Apparently."

"I doubt she means it as an insult," Ambrose offered.

"Though it surely wouldn't trouble you if she did," Ambrose interrupted quickly. "Of course. And who's

to say that she'll wish to go? Indeed, it might be quite ill-advised."

"Who else is to go?" Hugh asked, cupping his hands about his mug protectively. "Jamie has a wife and

bairns; 'twas dangerous enough for him to be about the journey once. Thomas is likewise a lad with a family and cannot leave them."

"Victoria's sire could go," Ambrose said slowly.

Connor snorted. "The man is perfectly blind to what goes on beneath his nose. It must be the McKinnon

in him." Hugh bristled. Connor shot him a look that had him reaching for a sheaf of papers and taking refuge behind them. "What are you reading now?" Fulbert asked. "The Merry Wives of Windsor," Hugh responded, peering over the top. "I'll let you know how it ends." Connor had a flash of envy run through him. Even Hugh, coward that he was, could read, while he himself still struggled with it. It would take time, or so Victoria assured him. He could only hope that his future wouldn't hinge upon his being able to read, or that her future wouldn't hinge upon her being able to speak Gaelic.

The saints preserve them both if either should be the case.

The debate continued, but with no useful results. The sun still slept as the dining chamber door opened and Thomas walked in. He sat down next to Ambrose.

"Well, laddie," Ambrose said with a smile, "you're awake early."

"I couldn't sleep," Thomas said, yawning widely. "Any answers yet?"

"Nay, but many questions."

Connor sat and contemplated the strangeness of sitting companionably at a table with men he had

considered his enemies not two months earlier. He was still thinking on that when James MacLeod walked in and took the seat at the head of the table.

"How did you find sixteenth-century England, in truth?" Ambrose asked him.

"The food was vile," Jamie said bluntly, "and given what I've eaten in my time, that says much. I suppose that could have been my lack of funds, though. Is the larder full here, do you suppose?"

Thomas laughed and went to make breakfast. By the time he and Jamie were tucking in to something substantial, the door to the dining chamber creaked open again. Fulbert and Hugh vanished. Ambrose looked primed to flee, but sat back down when he saw it was only Victoria.

Only Victoria.

Connor looked at her and felt his mouth go dry.

By the saints, the wench was fetching, even with her hair slept on and in wild disarray.

And she sat, without even the barest of hesitations, next to him.

It wasn't as if there weren't other places vacant. Of course, Hugh and Fulbert took care of those other

empty seats immediately after she sat down, but no matter. She had chosen the place next to him.

And then she smiled at him. "You're awake early."

Thomas spewed his tea all over his breakfast. "And how," he gurgled unattractively, "would you know

that?"

Victoria looked at her brother with distaste. "Clean up the table, would you?"

"How would you know that his appearance at breakfast today is any earlier than any other day?"

"I know just because I know and the how of it is none of your business."

Thomas fetched a rag and returned with it, his eyes twinkling with an unholy amusement. "I see."

Victoria took the rag from him, cleaned the table, then flung the sopping wet cloth with great force into

Thomas's face.

"Well done," Connor said approvingly.

Thomas grinned unrepentantly. "She's not usually this friendly with her bodyguards."

Friendly. There went that word again. Connor looked at Victoria. "Bodyguard?"

"You know," Thomas said, "like a garrison knight committed to looking after only one person until he's relieved of his duties. Bodyguard." Bodyguard. Connor turned the word over in his mind. Was that how she considered him? Then again, hadn't he only offered to protect her?

Nothing more...

"Connor's not my bodyguard," she snapped.

"Then what is he?"

She seemed to be having trouble speaking. Connor watched her and wondered at the sudden redness of

her cheeks.

"Are you unwell?" he demanded. "Poisoned?"

"At a loss for words?" Thomas asked politely.

She took a deep breath. "I'm fine," she said, looking at Connor. "Thank you for your concern." She

turned to her brother. "If you want to be alive to see that baby be born, you'll cease and desist. There's a

sword out in the hallway and I can figure out how to use it." Connor frowned. He had seen Thomas McKinnon wield a sword. "Victoria," he said slowly, "I think you should choose another threat."

She looked up at him in surprise. "Why?"

"Your brother would best you in a sword fight. And saying that does not come without cost."

"Never let it be said that Connor MacDougal was stingy with his praise," Thomas said with a grin.

"Now, moving right along before my sister thinks of other ways to do me in, what ground have you

already covered?" Connor listened intently, for there was no aid to be offered where there had not been attention paid to the plans, but at the same time he managed to skillfully be aware of everything the woman beside him was doing. First she drummed her fingers on the table. Then she picked at some tea-free bits of her brother's toasted bread. Then she merely took a knife and began to torture the rest of the bread in earnest.

Connor looked at her face to find she was watching him.

She smiled tremulously, as if she fought tears.

By the saints, he would have given centuries of his afterlife to have held her but once and lent her some

of his own strength.

"All will be well," he said softly.

She nodded with another unsteady smile.

He put his hand over hers on the table before he realized what he was doing, or the futile nature of that gesture. Victoria saw it, though, and looked up at him. Her eyes were full of tears. She blinked quite suddenly, then rose. "Anyone need anything else to eat?" she asked briskly.

"Anything," Jamie said promptly. "Everything." Connor watched her take the man's plate and look for something to put on it. He wondered who had noticed his faux pas. James MacLeod hadn't. Ambrose was listening intently to Fulbert babble on about which streets to avoid in Renaissance London and Hugh was still buried behind his Merry Wives. Then Connor looked at Thomas.

The fool was looking at him with something akin to pity on his face.

Connor drew himself up and frowned fiercely, his warning frown that always left those thusly frowned upon backing up swiftly before turning tail and fleeing. Thomas McKinnon only smiled what he no doubt deemed to be an understanding smile. Then he turned to Ambrose and asked questions that gave no indication that he hadn't been listening fully and without distraction. Connor looked over Thomas's head to find Victoria watching him as well. She looked at him gravely for a moment or two before she turned back to the stove.

Friends?

The saints pity him, he was past that.

He thought to examine when and where that might have happened, but he was interrupted by the back

door flinging open.

Hugh and Fulbert disappeared with a squeak.