Mrs. Pruitt stood there, dressed in black, her ample bosom heaving.

"He's gone," she blurted out.

"What?" Thomas asked.

"Who is gone?" Ambrose asked, then he froze, as if he realized that he had made a grave tactical error.

Mrs. Pruitt fixed her frantic gaze upon Ambrose and her eyes widened even more, if possible. She felt

her way across the kitchen and sank into the chair next to him.

"Laird MacLeod," she said reverently.

"Ah," Ambrose said, looking around wildly for an escape.

"I can hardly believe 'tis you," she said, patting her hair quickly. "And me so undone."

"Good woman, what did you say earlier," Ambrose said, sounding quite desperate. "Something about someone being gone?"

"Oh, I did, didn't I?" she said, surreptitiously checking the corners of her mouth.

For froth, apparently, Connor thought sourly.

"Aye, you did," Ambrose said politely. "Didn't she, Thomas? And you've met Laird MacDougal, haven't you?"

Connor glared at Ambrose, then turned his least ferocious frown on the innkeeper. "Good morn to you, Mistress Pruitt," he said.

Mrs. Pruitt seemed to be having trouble breathing.

"Mrs. Pruitt, can I get you a glass of something?" Thomas asked.

Victoria rose and disappeared into the dining room. She came back a moment or two later with a small glass of something Connor suspected was not tea. She handed it to Mrs. Pruitt without delay.

Mrs. Pruitt tossed it back without a flinch.

"Mr. Fellini is gone," she said, dragging her sleeve across her mouth in a businesslike fashion. "And I would have it on tape, but the blighter seems to have made off with me equipment!" Victoria sank back down into her chair. "Michael is gone?" "Popped through that fairy ring, he did," Mrs. Pruitt said with a nod. "Just as familiarly as ye please." Jamie cleared his throat. "Fairy ring?" "Aye," she said easily. "The one up the way in Farris's potato field. I daresay I don't believe all the rumors, but 'tis said that steppin' in a ring will carry ye off where ye've no mind to go. I know I'd never venture in one."

"And Michael did?" Victoria managed. "You saw him?"

"With me high-powered night goggles," Mrs. Pruitt said. "And the only reason I have those left is that I keep them under me pillow in case I need them at a moment's notice." She slid Ambrose a look. "Never know when they'll come in handy."

Ambrose shivered.

"I followed 'im," Mrs. Pruitt continued, "because he seemed so suspicious and I feared he was about to make mischief up the way at the castle."

"That was masterfully done," Thomas said approvingly. "We never would have known else."

"Wonderful," Victoria said with a sigh.

"He'll need to be fetched," Connor said.

"Why?" Victoria asked. "Maybe he took a turn at the Inquisition."

"You have a keen sense of retribution," Connor said admiringly.

"What goes around, comes around," she agreed. She sighed and looked at Thomas. "Well, I guess we're

off for double duty."

"Off where?" Mrs. Pruitt asked.

Connor watched everyone at the table go still. Then Thomas cleared his throat.

"Off to the village," he said easily. "Unfortunately, we probably won't be able to dig up any decent

rumors about that fairy ring. I think if we had an idea of what's possible, we might be able to figure out

just what Mr. Fellini was up to. It's just too bad we don't have anyone with village connections-"

"I'll go," Mrs. Pruitt said, leaping to her feet and saluting. "And not only will I ferret out all the rumors, I'll capture them on me video camera."

"But I thought you said Michael had poached it," Victoria reminded her.

Mrs. Pruitt sniffed. "Aye, me old one. A newfangled digital recorder arrived this morning. I'll be about reading the directions for it forthwith, then make me way stealthily down to the village later this afternoon, if that suits?"

"Wonderful, my good woman," Ambrose said, bestowing a pleased smile upon her.

Mrs. Pruitt fluttered her eyelashes.

Connor recoiled in spite of himself. Why, the woman could terrify the most stern of souls with that bit of business.

He wondered, absently, if he could use a like technique and achieve the same results.

"I am away," Mrs. Pruitt said, with one last lingering look of pure, unabashed desire cast Ambrose's way before she exited stage left.

The dining room door closed behind her.

Connor looked at Ambrose. "Are you afraid?"

"Terrified," Ambrose said frankly.

"You should have parleyed with her during the winter," Fulbert said, reappearing suddenly.

"Aye," Hugh agreed, coming in behind him. "Mayhap the chill would have cooled her ardor."

"I doubt that," Thomas said with a laugh. "Ambrose has met his doom and she prefers pink fluffy slippers and state-of-the-art electronic gear."

Ambrose buried his response in his cup.

"Perhaps we should send Mrs. Pruitt to Elizabethan England," Thomas said.

"The saints preserve us all," Connor exclaimed.

Ambrose shivered. "The saints only know what sort of trouble that would stir up. Like as not, she would

take her wee video camera with her and record Shakespeare at his work." He shook his head. "Nay, she cannot go." "Then who?" Fulbert asked darkly. "Who will do this thing?" "I'll go," Victoria said. Connor was unsurprised. It was as he had suspected. "No, you won't," Thomas said, just as firmly. "You have no idea what you're getting in to."

"And you do?"

Thomas seemed unwilling to answer that. Connor studied him and wondered just what experience the man had with these sorts of gates. There had been rumors, of course, that he had gone back in time to rescue Iolanthe before her untimely murder, but Connor had never been certain he believed it.

Of course there was a goodly bit of mystery surrounding Iolanthe MacLeod McKinnon that even a casual observer might find irresistible, but Connor had resisted. Iolanthe was well wed and out from underfoot at Thorpewold. Connor cared little for how she had managed it.

At least he supposed he cared little for it.

It might behoove him at some point to look into it a little more closely.

"I, at least, do know of what I speak," Jamie said. His expression was serious. " 'Tis a most dangerous

business, Mistress Victoria, and you must be prepared for an immediate entry into a world which is not your own. The language, the dress, the customs-"

"It's Shakespeare's time," Victoria said. "How much more convenient can it be than that?"

"I don't think everyone spoke in iambic pentameter, Vic," Thomas said dryly. "Don't be obtuse," she threw at him. She turned back to Jamie. "I think I could take weeks to prepareand it wouldn't help. I'll just go, be discreet, find Granny and that bloody egoist, and get back. How hardcan that be?"

"You can't go alone," Thomas said with a sigh.

"She wouldn't be going alone," Connor put in.

He felt Victoria look at him, but he didn't dare return the look. The saints only knew what kind of

expression she would be wearing.

"And can you protect her?" Thomas asked quietly. "Should a band of drunken men bent on mischief accost her, could you rescue her? Besides terrifying them into insensibility, of course, but what if they're not the terrifying kind?"

Connor had several nasty replies come to mind, but before he could sort them out and choose the worst of them, Thomas continued on. "I don't doubt your skill, which is formidable, or your commitment, which is equally impressive. What I doubt is just the reality of your situation, which, unfortunately, leaves my sister, for all intents and purposes, on her own in a century that is not hers, with no skills to survive it."

"I'll come along to help," came a voice from behind them.

Connor turned in his chair to see Jennifer standing just inside the doorway. She came in farther and let the door close behind her. "No, you won't," Victoria said firmly. "I will," Jennifer said calmly. "I'll distract the locals with troubadour songs while you investigate." Victoria looked a wee bit indecisive. "I'll earn some money and keep us fed," Jennifer continued. "You'll be happy you brought me along." Thomas rolled his eyes. "Great. Two sisters and a ghost. If that isn't the most impossible trio I've ever heard of-" "I took a self-defense class," Jennifer offered. "Oh, well, that clinches it," Thomas said grimly. "By all means, but please dress up as boys, will you?" "And how will that serve them?" Connor asked pointedly. "Look at them both. Only a fool wouldn't recognize them for what they are." "People look for what they expect to see," Thomas said. "If they dress like men and act like men, it's possible they could pass as men." Victoria put her hands on the table and rose. "I have to get on with my day. You guys can argue all you like over our costumes; I'm going to go take a shower." She looked at Connor. "Are you coming with me?" "To the shower?" Thomas choked, spewing tea all over the table again. "To the castle, Thomas, to the castle!" She looked at Connor. "I'll be on my way in half an hour." She glared at her brother briefly, then stomped from the kitchen. Connor looked at Thomas narrowly. "You insult her," he said. "I will see you repaid." "It wasn't intentional," Thomas said. "I didn't actually think-well, never mind." "Was that an apology?" Connor asked.

"It wasn't. Add it to the list of things you want to repay me for and we'll deal with it later." He mopped up the table slowly. "You know, MacDougal," he said finally, "I don't know how either of you will manage this."

"The journey to find your grandmother?"

"That, too."

Connor looked at Thomas in surprise, was momentarily tempted to say something unpleasant, then