Gideon smiled. "It's a very long story. I'll tell you later if you're really interested. For now, let me help you haul these down to the inn. I can't leave Megan for long."

Victoria stood back and waited while Connor, Gideon, and Thomas heaved the box up and carried it

out of the inner bailey. She followed them back to the inn and watched with a smile as they muscled their burden into the library. She was still standing in the foyer when Jennifer came out of the sitting room.

"This is good," Jennifer said.

"This is fabulous," Victoria corrected. "His ego will be saved. Dozens of potential victims will be spared.

Cattle will remain on grazing lands where they belong, instead of finding their way into Thorpewold

Castle."

Jennifer laughed. "You know, you're the one who fell in love with him. He can't help being a medieval laird."

"I don't blame him. He is what he is and I wouldn't change him." She looked at her sister with a smile.

"There's something to be said for fourteenth-century chivalry."

"I'm sure there is. Why can't we graduate these kinds of men from law school? Connor doesn't have a brother, does he?"

"He has a cousin, but I think he had to stay behind to lead the clan. I guess you're stuck with what Manhattan can produce."

Jennifer laughed. "Heaven help me." She smiled wistfully. "I envy you. He is quite a man."

Victoria had never been envied before, at least not to her knowledge and certainly not about her love life.

She had to admit that she envied herself.

She paused in the entryway and listened to the laughter coming from inside the library. There were Thomas and Gideon, of course, but rising above it all now and again was Connor's mirth, something she had never expected to hear.

Certainly not coming from him in a mortal way.

"The gift that keeps on giving," Jennifer whispered from beside her.

"The gold?"

"The man."

It was true and all the more wonderful for its being unexpected.

"The gift that keeps on giving," Victoria whispered to herself with a smile.

Another laugh from inside the library interrupted her musings. She smiled at Jennifer, then followed her

over to the sitting room, leaving the men to their newfound treasure.

Life was good and cattle for miles were now safe.

It didn't get much better than that.

Chapter 38.

Connor leaned over the counter and peered into the glass jars. He lifted one, sniffed vigorously, thenpulled back and sneezed heartily. "What, by all the saints, is that?" "Red raspberry leaf," Victoria said.

"What purpose does it serve?"

The girl behind the counter, the one with the silver ball coming out the side of her nose and the ring through her eyebrow, sighed wearily. "Female complaints."

Connor put the jar back with alacrity. "I think I'll leave all these things alone."

"That might be best."

Connor leaned against the counter and let Victoria be about her business. He looked about the Tempest

in a Teapot and wondered how Victoria had managed to get her theatergoers out of this place with all its marvelous smells that seemed to make him want to go to sleep and up the stairs to the theater. Perhaps her patrons were made of sterner stuff than he.

And it had taken a bit of stern stuff to acclimate himself so quickly to all that Manhattan had to offer. Indeed, the past fortnight had been a whirlwind of activity, starting with the selling of part of his buried treasure and finishing with trying to get to sleep in Victoria's small apartment that seemed to be in a place in the city where no one ever slept. And sandwiched between those two events had been a quite lovely wedding and a highly enjoyable honeymoon at Artane.

No wonder Thomas and Iolanthe went so often to visit. Connor had seen the sea before, of course, but there was something quite magical about visiting a keep that stood so close to the shore.

That might have had something to do with the company, though.

He looked at Victoria and couldn't help a smile. By the saints, she was magnificent, in looks and temperament both. He reached out and smoothed a hand down her hair before he could stop himself.

She smiled briefly at him, then turned back to her business.

"Look, Moonbat, I just want to talk to Mr. Chi."

"He's meditating."

Connor pursed his lips. He'd heard all about the forced takeover of Victoria's space by a man who

apparently twisted himself into uncomfortable shapes and made his fortune teaching others to do the same. Victoria did not have fond feelings for the man. Connor could not blame her, given that the man had laid siege to her theater.

"Is he leasing his meditation space," Victoria pressed, "or has he bought it?"

Mistress Moonbat shifted uneasily. "He's leasing."

"Then I'll buy him out."

"But-"

"I'll offer you double what he's paying."

"Vic," Moonbat said, dragging her name out for a very long moment, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"It wouldn't be right."

"And jerking it out from under me was?"

Moonbat leaned forward. "Vic, it's a lot of money."

"I have more."

"I'll think about it. Until then, can I make you some tea?"

Victoria scowled fiercely. "No, thanks. We'll just go have a hot dog down the street."

Connor could have sworn Moonbat rushed off to the loo to puke, but what did he know? What he did

know was that he had learned to appreciate the hot-dog vendors on the corners of the Big Apple and if Victoria was willing to indulge him again, he would not refuse. He followed her happily from the shop, leaving behind jars of things he was certain Patrick MacLeod would appreciate but that were not precisely to his taste.

"I don't get it," Victoria said, looking puzzled as they walked down the sidewalk. "If it's money, why won't she budge?"

"There must be more to it."

"I guess-" She gasped suddenly and dragged him into the alcove of a building. "Look!"

He looked. He saw Michael Fellini strolling into the Teapot as if he owned the place. "Ah," Connor said wisely, "there is your answer."

"I should go see what's really going on."

"Nay, allow me," Connor said. "Fellini won't recognize me."

"But Moonbat will."

"I'll be discreet."

She looked at him with one eyebrow raised, but didn't gainsay him. He patted her affectionately, thought

better of it, and kissed her passionately, then trotted off whilst she was still distracted. Being wed to Victoria McKinnon had been more delightful than he could have imagined-and he had imagined quite a bit. He approached the store and scouted out any potential locations. He pulled his Yankees baseball cap out of his pocket and clapped it on top of his head, then slunk into the shop and pretended great interest in fruity soaps. Er, herby soaps. He decided right then that he much preferred the fruity sort. He eavesdropped with enthusiasm, but wondered if his ears were beginning to fail him. He listened to Michael Fellini spew forth his drivel, listened to a very fond goodbye which, he saw by means of a casual glance over his shoulder, included much kissing, then waited until Fellini had left the shop before he followed him. He flashed Moonbat Murphy a glance of annoyance.

She grasped frantically for herbal comfort.

Connor quickly returned to Victoria's side. "You will not believe it."

"Tell me," she said. "Was there money exchanged?"

"More than that."

"Really? What?" she asked, wide-eyed.

He took her hand, then pulled her along with him. "It would seem that Fellini wants your wee Teapot for

himself. I daresay he's enough of an actor to leave Mistress Moonbat believing that he loves her in truth."

"Really," Victoria said in surprise. "But the Bat isn't that gullible."

"Perhaps she's been sniffing too many of her wares and has dulled her senses."