Much Ado In the Moonlight (52 page)

He shrugged aside his doubts and his fears. It would all come clear to him when he was home.

For now, he had the remainder of the day to spend with Victoria.

That was enough.

It would have to be.

Victoria
sat in the backseat of Thomas’s rental car and listened to her brother and the man she loved discuss the gadgets that adorned the dashboard. Connor would have poked and prodded those gadgets with his knife, but Thomas told him not to. It was all so very normal, traveling in the backseat of a car with her sister-in-law, who threatened to toss her cookies every few minutes, while a medieval clansman sat in the front arguing with her brother over whether or not a knife thrust into the CD player would really bring results that he wouldn’t care for.

Was she losing her mind?

She didn’t dare speculate.

Iolanthe began to moan in a very unsettling manner. Victoria shoved a plastic bag at her. “Here,” she said briskly, “puke in here. I checked; there aren’t any holes in the bottom.”

Iolanthe clutched the plastic sack like a lifesaver. Victoria looked out the window and watched the scenery rush by. It was beautiful country. She supposed that there wasn’t a square foot of earth that hadn’t been tromped on by some Brit at one point or another. It would have been something to have been witness to that history over the centuries.

As Connor was.

She sighed deeply. Things were not going as she had planned, even given her new hands-off-the-destinies-of-those-around-her policy. All right, so when she’d come back to the present time, she’d despaired of ever seeing Connor again. Once he’d come to the Future, she’d hoped against hope that someday he would actually regain the memories he couldn’t possibly have had unless Thomas’s remember-the-future business was true.

But the time for that kind of thing was running out and for more than one reason. Connor said he was going home tomorrow, but he’d been saying that for almost a week. It was entirely possible that he could change his mind for another week.

Unfortunately, she was also feeling the pressure of time. It was the end of August already and her rehearsals were starting the middle of September for a November show that she hadn’t even begun to advertise. She needed to find a venue and round up a few actors. Michael had probably taken with him half the cast of her first show and Mr. Yoga had definitely taken her rehearsal and performance place, yet still the show had to go on.

She rubbed her hands over her face and sighed deeply.

“Victoria?”

She looked at Iolanthe. “Yes?”

“You are unwell?”

She shook her head. “Stress.”

“Speaking of stress,” Thomas said, “have you thought about what you’re going to do for the fall? You know, after you go back to Manhattan?”

“Why do I ever tell you anything?” Victoria asked, not really wanting an answer because she already knew the answer. She was a masochist.

“What is amiss?” Connor asked.

“Victoria has a group of players,” Thomas began, “and unfortunately, they have lost the space where they’ve been accustomed to performing their shows. She will return to Manhattan with people lining up to want to see her shows and no place to perform.”

“Manhattan? The Apple you told me about?”

“The very one.”

“What will she do, do you think? Could she not use your castle for her productions?”

“She could,” Thomas said, “but I think she wants to get back to the city. In fact, I imagine she just can’t wait to get back to Manhattan. Isn’t that true, Vic?”

Victoria wanted to hit her brother, but that might have been dangerous, given that he was driving. Could he make matters any worse? First, he’d broken the news to Connor about his ghostly status in that completely unfeeling manner and now he was making it sound as if she couldn’t wait to get on the plane and leave Connor behind.

“Connor?” she said.

“Aye?”

“Kill him for me later.”

Connor made a noise, something like a purr. “If I must. If it would please you.”

“It would please me.”

“Mayhap you would inherit his castle if he died,” Connor offered.

Victoria smiled in spite of herself. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Thomas only laughed. “If I die by foul means, I’m giving the castle to Mom and Jennifer to use for a baby-clothes shop.”

Victoria shivered. “You would, too, wouldn’t you?”

He looked back over his shoulder at her. “Of course not. But seriously, Vic. What are you going to do? Don’t you have season tickets already sold?”

She shook her head. “I never sent anything out. I had it all printed, but when I found out Moonbat was ripping the stage out from under me, I cancelled the company who does my tickets.”

“People will wonder what happened to you.”

“I’ll send out notices when we find a new space.” She sighed. “But I suppose I do need to get back and see if I can resurrect my company.”

At least that’s what she thought she needed to do. What she feared was that she would get back to Manhattan, find that her troupe was still intact, and not want to do a damned thing with them.

What she wanted to do was act.

Truly, she had lost her mind.

She sighed. “Some of it depends on what’s left of my troupe once Michael Fellini’s agent gets ahold of my actors.”

“Fellini,” Connor grumbled. “What a pompous, overacting buffoon.”

Everyone in the car went still. Victoria shared a startled glance with Iolanthe, then held her breath until Connor reached up and scratched his head.

“Too many chocolates after lunch,” he said. “I have these dreams.”

“I’ll just bet you do,” Thomas said easily. “All right, let me find a parking place, then we’ll go shop and meet back here. Then I say we go have a nice dinner and see the show.”

Victoria let her breath out slowly. So close, but yet so incredibly far from anything useful. Well, at least 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 he wasn’t leaping out
into
the traffic, but she supposed that couldn’t be far behind. Fortunately, Thomas managed 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.

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.

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.