he was having dreams. That was something. She was distracted suddenly by the sight of Connor leaping out of the car to study the traffic. At least hewasn't leaping out into the traffic, but she supposed that couldn't be far behind. Fortunately, Thomasmanaged to convince him to use the sidewalk for its intended purpose.

"Clothes, first," Thomas said. "Io, why don't you and Vic take the keys and meet us back here in an hour."

"An hour?" Victoria echoed. "I'm sure we'll be done long before then."

"I know. That's why I'm giving you the keys." Victoria was pleased to find that Iolanthe had just as little patience as she did for lingering over clothes, but perhaps that came from being morning sick. She knew her own impatience came from dissatisfaction over how her vow not to control people anymore had panned out. She suspected that she might be happier telling everyone what to do.

She sighed as she and Iolanthe walked back down the street to the car to dump their casual clothes into the trunk. It would either all work out in the end or it wouldn't. Really, when it came to medieval Highlanders, there was not much to be done.

She had just shut the trunk when her sister-in-law caught her breath. "Oh, my," Iolanthe said in surprise. "What?" "Look behind you." Victoria hesitated. "Is it Connor and Thomas?" "Aye. Dressed in their finery." Victoria closed her eyes briefly. Let him not be wearing Victorian ruffles mismatched with a tricorn hat. She turned. She caught her breath, as well. All right, so the man looked fine in jeans. In a suit, he was absolutely breathtaking. Impressive and powerful and so put together that she wondered if she would ever take another money man in a suit seriously. He stopped in front of her and smiled.

"What do you think?" "I think wow." Connor made her a low bow. "Thanks must go to your brother." "Thanks, Thomas," Victoria said weakly. "Let's go," Thomas said with a laugh, "before my sister falls in a pool of drool of her own making.

Dinner, anyone?"

"Always," Connor said promptly.

"Sure," Victoria said, looking forward to a place to sit.

"If we must," Iolanthe said, not sounding at all enthusiastic about the idea.

Dinner was as lengthy an affair as Iolanthe could stand, which wasn't all that long. Connor seemed rather

sad to leave anything behind, but she managed to stop him before he finished off everyone's leavings. She watched him as they left the restaurant and made their way down the sidewalk. He wasn't saying anything; that might have come from being so busy gawking at everything around him.

"What do you think?" she asked.

He dragged his gaze back to hers. "I think you are very beautiful," he said frankly.

"I meant about Edinburgh."

"I think there are too many people here. Many more than the last time I was here, but I do not find it

unpleasing." He smiled at her suddenly and took her hand. "I should hold on to you, lest you become lost."

Lost? She was already lost, lost so far in her feelings for him that she supposed she would never find her way out.

Good grief, how was she going to go on?

She was very grateful, half an hour later, to find herself in a theater with the lights about to go down. It allowed her to weep in peace.

Connor, meanwhile, was patting himself, then cursing, as if the lack of dagger was just too much to be borne. "If we're attacked in the dark, I'll use my hands," he assured her. She managed a nod. "I would expect nothing less." She felt him turn in his seat and knew he was looking at her. "Ach, Victoria, why-" "The play," she said, pointing to the stage. "Look, the lights are going down. And look, it's Hamlet." She managed to throw Thomas a glare. "What a surprise. This must be why Thomas made me close my eyes on the way into the theater and wouldn't let me have a program until now."

"Is it?" Connor said resettling himself. "One would hope that it would be worth watching. I daresay in a building this luxurious, the tickets come dear-"

And then he fell silent. Victoria snuck a look at him. He was staring at the stage, completely mesmerized. The curtain opened to allow them to see the men of the watch going about their business. Connor smiled in pleasure.

And then the ghost appeared.

And Connor went completely still.

Victoria nodded to herself. He was probably having some sympathy for the watchmen, given that he'd had his own brush with the paranormal up at the castle just recently. She abandoned him to his own devices and turned to watch the play.

She had to admit Hamlet was one of her favorites and the production was shaping up to be a good one. It was often very difficult for her to enjoy other productions, because she spent most of her time critiquing everything that went on up on the stage. Tonight it was different. Maybe it was because the accents were authentic. Maybe it was because the production was actually quite good. Or maybe it was something useful stemming from her new hands-off policy.

Yes, the actors onstage could do whatever they wanted; she didn't care. She found it quite freeing, actually, to let others go on about their business without feeling as if she were responsible for their actions. Still, there was something that got in the way of fully enjoying that freedom. She realized, with a start, that there was low murmuring going on nearby. She frowned. What idiot was playing Hamlet's part from the peanut gallery while the real acting was going on up on stage?

Then she realized that the idiot was sitting next to her. She looked at Connor and frowned a bit more. Didn't he know he was supposed to be quiet? She realized that she hadn't said anything and Thomas probably hadn't thought to. She leaned over to whisper to him that he really should button up, when she realized what he was doing.

He was whispering Hamlet's lines.

In English.

She found, quite suddenly, that she couldn't move. She did manage to catch Thomas's eye. He had leaned forward, as well, and was looking at Connor with satisfaction. Then he smiled at her.

"Bingo," he whispered.

Victoria sat back and kept her mouth shut. Connor groped for her hand and held it as if she were all that kept him from shattering into a million pieces. His fingers gripped hers in a way that was almost painful, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything. Heaven only knew what was going on inside his head, but she wasn't about to interrupt it on the off chance it was something good.

Hamlet.

It occurred to her that Thomas had chosen the play with great care. Maybe it would be the thing that would spark Connor's memories and bring him back to her.

One more thing to thank her brother for, damn it anyway.

She closed her eyes and began to pray.

Chapter 36.

Connor sat in the darkened theater with Shakespeare being blurted out on the stage in English and wondered if he could possibly sit still through the torrents of memories that were crashing down over him, wave after wave of centuries of recollections that left him gasping in their wake.

He was listening to Hamlet. In English. Just as he had performed it not two months earlier on the closing night of Victoria's run in Thorpewold Castle.

That wave receded and another came. There he was, raging over the injustice of his life ending unfairly, wreaking havoc on the Frenchman who had killed him for the sport of it, wanting desperately to leave the Highlands but being unwilling to go at the same time. Loving and hating until he could no longer recognize himself.

The centuries after he'd finally came south paraded themselves before him in glorious fashion, one after another, full to the brim with bad humors and dastardly deeds. He rubbed his neck uncomfortably, wondering how it was that he had popped his head off so often and with such impunity without suffering any kind of discomfort for the deed.

He saw himself arguing with Iolanthe MacLeod. He remembered doing his damndest to force Thomas McKinnon to leave the keep...

He paused. He frowned. He leaned over Iolanthe to glare at her husband.

"You promised me a roof for that bloody keep and you never built it."

"I got married instead."

"Damn you."

"Yeah," Thomas whispered with a grin. "Nice to have you back, Laird MacDougal."

Connor would have commented, but an entirely new collection of memories swept over him.

He saw Victoria coming into the hall for the first time, Victoria fawning over Michael Fellini, Victoria in the library of the Boar's Head Inn, sitting in her chair before a fire of his making, looking at him with growing affection in her eyes.

Victoria vowing to save him from death.

Then he viewed Victoria over the past week. He suspected she had spent most of that se'nnight wondering why it was he was so thick-headed. He looked at her as she sat next to him presently. She had tears streaming down her face. He couldn't help himself. He slipped his hand underneath her hair, leaned over, and kissed her. And once he started, he just couldn't seem to stop himself. "Och, and this is hardly the place for snogging, is it?" a very annoyed voice whispered crisply from behind him. He lifted his head, looked behind him, and glared. A finely dressed woman of at least eight decades lifted her purse and shook it at him threateningly. Connor was not about to brawl with an old woman and her bag, so he graciously conceded the battle and contented himself with putting his arm around his lady and drawing her as close as their seats would allow.

"I remember," he whispered in awe.

"It's about time," she whispered back.

He smiled and continued to sit with Victoria, clutching her to him and fighting off the realization of how close he had come to losing her.

He thought a tear might have escaped his eye.

She looked up at him in surprise.

"Sweat," he bluffed.

"Right," she said, wearing the first tremulous smile he'd ever seen.

He took her hand in his own and stroked it. He closed his eyes briefly in thanks, then looked down at

Victoria's hand in the dark. By the saints, how many times had he wished he could touch her in death, and there he was, in life, doing just that.

It was possible, he conceded, that another tear or two might have fallen to join the first.

The play went on without him. He couldn't watch it, didn't dare look at Victoria, and suspected another look behind him would earn him a lump on his head. So he kept his eyes on Victoria's hand as it grew increasingly damp.

The lights went up for intermission.

Connor dragged the sleeve of his suitcoat across his eyes and popped up to his feet, pulling Victoria up with him. He started for the doors.

"Wha-wait," Thomas said. "Where are you going?"

"I am going," Connor said distinctly, "somewhere where I might kiss my betrothed senseless in peace."

"But the show isn't over."

"It is for us." He looked at Victoria. "We'll go outside."

"Hey," Thomas said with a grin, "I think public displays of affection are against the law here. I guess you'll just have to wait for us to finish the rest of the play."

Connor looked at Iolanthe briefly, then back at Thomas. "Your bride is green. I believe the show is over for you, as well."

"She's fine-"

Connor stood aside as Iolanthe bolted past him. He smiled. "Keys?"

"Dream on," Thomas said with a sigh. "Let's go wait for Io in the lobby. Maybe this is for the best. I really don't think you should be alone with my sister."

"Thomas," Victoria warned.

"In fact, I think it's my brotherly duty to properly chaperone her. Don't you agree?"

Connor looked at Victoria. "I would like to kill him. Would that bother you?"

"I couldn't care less," she said tartly.

"Hey," Thomas said, "I'm directly responsible for bringing you two together. A little gratitude would not be unappreciated at this point. Besides, MacDougal, you're going to need a groomsman."

"I'll give that some thought," Connor said. He put his arm around Victoria's shoulders and pulled her toward the door. "Let's collect that poor MacLeod wench and be off."

"You're sure you don't want to finish the play?" Thomas asked from behind them.

"I can think of many things I want to do and not a one of them includes sitting through a play I have memorized. Indeed, I daresay I can do all the parts for you on the way home if you care to hear them."

"You have a good memory," Victoria said, sounding rather breathless.