Connor studied Ambrose's clothing. "When did you die?"

"Sixteenth century."

"And you've been here how long?"

"Long enough," Ambrose said, "to make several interesting matches."

"Matches?" Connor gaped. "You make matches?" He looked at Thomas in shock. "Is this a manly

business to be engaged in?"

Thomas shrugged. "They brought me together with Iolanthe. I can't complain."

Connor grunted and looked at Ambrose. "I want to approve whomever you choose for Victoria. I

daresay she would take a particular kind of man."

"I daresay," Ambrose said dryly.

Connor almost questioned what that might mean, then decided against it. He looked at Victoria. "I think

I have eaten enough. I will go train with your brother. It will soothe me."

"Well, don't kill each other," she said.

Connor rose and looked at her. "Thank you for your aid this day, Mistress Victoria. I think I must think

about returning home, though." "Of course." He wondered why her eyes were so bright. Perhaps one too many Brussels sprouts. He put his hand on her head briefly, then nodded to Thomas. "Let us go." "Of course." Connor wondered at the look Thomas exchanged with his sister, as well, but decided that could wait to be unraveled until he had Thomas at sword point. He walked with the man past Mrs. Pruitt's most delicate flowers and looked for a likely spot in the gravelly place where the cars were parked. Cars. If that wasn't enough to tell a man he had come centuries into the Future, he didn't know what was. He stroked his chin thoughtfully as he admired a pair of the beasts, wondering what it might be like to travel about in one. He looked at Thomas, who regarded him with a smile.

"You know," Thomas said slowly, "you might want to purchase different jeans."

Connor realized his mistake immediately. "I apologize. I have used your clothing without giving you thanks for it." "It wasn't that," Thomas said easily. "I just thought finding clothes would be a good excuse to go for a long ride in a car."

"A ride in one of those?" Connor asked, feeling a goodly bit of enthusiasm rush through him. "Aye, I would like to do that before I go." "Are you still going to go?" Thomas asked. "Certainly," Connor said. But he suddenly felt quite uncertain. "I left my cousin in charge during my absence," he managed. "Did you?" Thomas asked, leaning on his sword. "Interesting." Connor considered. "I did see to something else before I left." He paused. "I buried my children." "I would have done the same," Thomas said quietly. Connor rested his sword in the dirt and put both hands on the hilt. It was a familiar thing to do, that motion. He had done it countless times; on the field, resting in battle, in his own garden whilst enjoying the hint of fall tingeing the air. It made him feel more himself, that small gesture he had carried with him through the ages.

He felt that same hint of fall blow over him suddenly, that hint of change, that whisper of something coming that might be more lovely than what had come before.

Something in the Future. Connor looked at Thomas. "If I were to stay," he began slowly, "what would I do here? If it is, as Victoria has claimed, hundreds of years away from my clan, whom would I lead? How would I conduct my manly labors each day, and where? There at this castle, which is nigh on to crumbling to ruins?" He frowned. "Victoria says you own the keep."

"I bought it," Thomas said with a shrug. "I could sell it again just as easily. To you, if you like." "That is something to consider," Connor agreed. "It would help if I had a bloody pair of coins to rub together. Unfortunately, I've nothing but my sword and my wits."

"Men have made do with less," Thomas said with a smile. "And given that you have those two things in abundance, I wouldn't worry." "But I do worry. It worries me enough that I suspect that there is not future for me here. In your Future." He frowned. "Damn me if that doesn't give me pains in the head to think on it."

"Then let us be about something less painful," Thomas said, drawing his sword. "Shall we?"

"And you think a little light exercise with me will be painless?" Connor asked, feeling the thrill of potentially using his sword for nefarious purposes rush through him. "I could slay you by accident." "I wouldn't," Thomas said with a grin. "My wife is quite handy with a blade and she's damned stealthy." "Your babe leaves her puking her guts up at each turn." "Ah, but that was yesterday. Today she's much more herself. I daresay she will only become more trouble as time goes on." "They always do," Connor said wisely, drawing his own sword and tossing the scabbard atop the feed end of what should have been a horse but wasn't. 'Twas a shiny blue car that looked as if it might go very fast. "Is this yours?" "For a bit," Thomas said. "We'll take it for a ride later. It will make you forget your humiliation at my hands this morning." "Ha!" Connor said with a ferocious grin. "Engage me, if you dare, you womanly McKinnon." Fortunately for them both and the state of entertainment that morn, Thomas McKinnon was as skilled a swordsman as Connor could have wished for.

Of course, that didn't mean that Thomas would best him, but he would certainly be sport enough for the morning. Connor threw himself joyously into the fray and let all thoughts of his future slide away, where a sensible man would have let them go. There would be time enough for thinking later.

Chapter 33.

Victoria sat on the front step of the inn and looked out over Mrs. Pruitt's garden. It was a peaceful place, really, with bees buzzing here and there and the sweet, heady smells of dozens of varieties of flowers wafting through the air. She took a deep breath and, well, sneezed, of course. Zinnias were, in reality, the bane of her existence.

But the lavender and roses more than made up for that. She concentrated on them and tried to block out what was troubling her. If only she could have managed that so easily in other aspects of her life. The door opened behind her. So Mrs. Pruitt wasn't going to give up on pawning that afternoon snack off on her. Victoria sighed and turned, prepared to offer a polite thanks followed by a firm refusal, but it wasn't Mrs. Pruitt.

"Oh," Victoria said. "Iolanthe."

Iolanthe came unsteadily out the door and sat down gingerly. "Sister."

"Are you sure you should be out here? You know, the smells and all."

"I feel much more myself."

Victoria smiled gravely. "You know, Iolanthe, I hate to say it, but you don't look any better."

"It will end, eventually," Iolanthe groaned. "Or so I've been told."

"Yeah, when the baby's born."

Iolanthe scowled at her and Victoria laughed.

"Now, that's a look that rings true. I'm sure you won't have to wait that long to feel better again. That

would just be wrong."

Iolanthe put her hand over her nose and nodded. "Aye, it would."

Victoria nodded as well, then resumed her admiring of the garden. Mrs. Pruitt either had a small army of

weeders, or she spent far more time digging in the dirt than she let on. The place was perfect. It was worthy of a great deal of time spent appreciating it. And given that such appreciating took her mind off Connor's indecision, she indulged in it fully.

"Hey," she said suddenly, sitting up straight, "Thomas's car is gone." "He and Connor went to Jedburgh." "Thomas took Connor with him in a car?" Victoria said incredulously. Iolanthe nodded gingerly. "He's out of his mind." "He's done it before." "Been out of his mind?"

"Nay, taken a nervous passenger clothes-shopping in Jedburgh." Victoria realized that she'd hit the motherlode. Iolanthe could provide her with all the answers she needed to exactly when and how she had regained her memories. The question was: Did she want those answers? She was afraid of what she would learn. "He took you?" Victoria asked, finally. "Aye." "Did you enjoy the trip?" Iolanthe hesitantly took her hand away from her nose. When she seemed to think it would not go ill for her, literally, she smiled. "I was still at the point where I wasn't completely convinced that your brother was not a demon."

"And you've changed your mind since then?"

Iolanthe laughed easily. "Oh, aye. I've found him to be passing tolerable."

Victoria shifted to more easily look Iolanthe full in the face. "How long did it take you to remember?"

She paused. "You know, your other life."

Iolanthe sobered. "Weeks."

Victoria felt herself pale. "Weeks?"

"But I did remember," Iolanthe added quickly. She paused. "Eventually."

Victoria sighed and looked back over the garden. "It's all very strange to me. I don't know how a

person can remember an afterlife they once lived then subsequently didn't get to live." She looked at her

sister-in-law. "I don't get it." "Time is not our natural element," Iolanthe said slowly. "Who's to say how its strands weave together to make the tapestries of our lives? The paths we took and those we might have but didn't..." She shrugged. "Thomas says those who study space vow that time goes forward and backward at the same time. Perhaps that applies to our memories, as well."

Victoria gave that some thought, then shook her head. "I can believe a lot of things, but I don't know about that." "Sister, you had best learn to believe if you have any hope of the MacDougal remembering what he had with you."

Victoria's eyes burned suddenly. She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes until she thought she could look at Iolanthe without weeping. "I suppose so," she said quietly.

"Give him time," Iolanthe said. "He will remember."

"You would know."

"Aye, I would. Besides, for all we ken, the MacDougal won't be such a hard case. I am powerfully

stubborn."

"And he isn't?"

Iolanthe smiled. "Aye, he is. But he's also had the testimony of many ghosts in the past day or so,

regaling him with deeds of great glory during his years as a shade. That will flatter his vanity, which may well be so pleasing to him that he will welcome those other memories when they come."

"Didn't you?"

"It shames me to admit that I didn't. I fought them and your brother each step of the way. I would not even heed Megan when she tried to aid me after my return to the Future." She smiled ruefully. "I daresay I was not so polite to you, either, when we met at Ian's before Christmas."

Victoria waved away the apology. "I wasn't in the best frame of mind to make friends, either." She hesitated. "But with Connor... do you think he will remember? Eventually?" "I would imagine so." Iolanthe paused for a long moment. "But I cannot speak for him." Victoria sighed. "It took you weeks." "Aye." "It might take him weeks." "It might." "If it happens at all."

Iolanthe smiled wanly. "It was a risk you took."

"I'm getting my just deserts," Victoria said grimly. And she was. All her fine talk about living and letting live. Ha! Besides, she knew how that lack of control played out. "Look, Ma, no hands!" generally resulted in chipped front teeth.

She wasn't quite sure what that kind of letting-go would result in when it came to interpersonal relationships. But what she did know was that she couldn't force Connor to remember; she couldn't force him to stay.

Damn it, anyway.

"But how could I not have taken that risk?" she asked Iolanthe glumly.

"You had to." She paused, then smiled. "Look, Thomas is coming up the lane. Perhaps Connor has had

a sharp blow to his head and it has shaken a few of his recollections loose."

Victoria pursed her lips. "You don't like him."

"He was a miserable ghost."

"He's mellowed."

Iolanthe smiled again. "Aye, for you he certainly has. I will give him another look." She got to her feet

and swayed. Victoria leaped to steady her, then found she was just as unsteady on her feet. She looked on in shock as Thomas and Connor climbed out of Thomas's rental. Thomas looked much as he ever did: good-looking and cheerful. But Connor... Connor had had a makeover. "Oh, my," Iolanthe said thickly. Victoria frowned at her. "You're married." "I have eyes." "So do I," Victoria managed. "And in this case, I'm not sure that's a good thing." But since she had eyes, there was no reason not to make use of them. She decided that it was her duty to take in every detail, no matter how slight, of Connor's changed appearance. Granny would want to know, assuming Connor headed back to medieval Scotland before Granny came back from modern-day London.