"He has a vast memory," Thomas said with a laugh. "I'll bet it spans centuries."

Victoria looked at her brother, then burst into tears. Connor supposed they were tears of relief. He pulled her into his arms and found that even his eyes had begun to bother him.

"Allergies," he explained to anyone who was listening.

Thomas grasped his shoulder again in a friendly grip. "I understand completely, believe me.

Congratulations and welcome to the twenty-first century." Connor stroked Victoria's hair. "I can hardly believe it." he said reverently. " 'Tis a miracle. And listen. I can speak the King's English as well."

"Queen's," Victoria said, her words muffled.

Connor grunted. "I'll come to terms with that later. For now, I want to go back to the inn, take a very

long walk to the castle, and have some privacy with you."

"I think," Thomas said slowly, "that you two really will need a chaperone. I have my sister's virtue toguard, you know." "Thomas," she said, lifting her head to look at him with warning, "shut up!" "And you'll have to convince my dad," Thomas continued. "You know, Connor, we just barely started to warm him up to the idea of you being a ghost after Vic's closing night. Now, we'll have to really dig deep and give him explanations he won't ever buy-"

"Thomas!" Victoria exclaimed.

Connor patted her back. "He must torment me a little. I am taking his sister away from him."

"I'm sure he's thrilled," Victoria said dryly.

"Actually," Thomas said with a smile, "I'm mixed about it. You won't be mine to drive crazy anymore without this big, hulking brute standing up for you. But I'll probably see you more because Connor will want to come and sit at a table where the native tongue is spoken so expertly. Maybe you can go one step further and buy a house nearby us in Maine."

Connor had a brief flash of unease come over him. How, by all the saints, would he support Victoria and whatever bairns they had? It wasn't as if he could raise cattle, grow crops, or raid his enemies' herds.

"Connor?"

He put the worry aside for later, when he would have the time to give it the proper attention. He looked down into his lady's beautiful face and smiled reflexively. "Aye, love?"

"What are you thinking?"

"That I am quite possibly the most fortunate man in eight hundred years; for I was the one to, beyond all reason, capture your heart." "I'm fond of your grumbles." "You'll have plenty of those," Thomas interrupted cheerfully. Connor pursed his lips. "We will not live in the same hall with him." "Heaven forbid," she said with feeling. "Now, your granny is another matter entirely," Connor said, remembering how fond he was of her. "She could live with us. Think you she might knit me something with that Fair Isle technique she favors?"

"You'll never have to buy another sweater," Victoria said with a smile. "I imagine you'll be begging her to stop-" "Oh, look," Thomas interrupted, "here comes Iolanthe." He looked at Connor. "If you're sure you want to go back to the inn."

"I am quite certain."

"Not much privacy there."

"More than here."

"You think?"

Connor realized he was patting himself for his sword and that it was not there. He settled for a glare that

only earned him a laugh. He looked at Victoria. "We will not live anywhere near him."

"Whatever you say," she said with a smile.

"I love you," he said, finding that if he was going to say something, it behooved him to say what was in

his heart.

"I love you, too," she said, her eyes bright with tears.

"Oh, good grief," Thomas said, pointing toward the entrance. "Let's get out of here before people start

paying you two for the love scene, shall we?" Connor did not want to let go of Victoria, but he found that he at least had to release part of her to be able to walk comfortably. They made their way to the car and he found himself unable to fit into the backseat. He frowned. "You should have borrowed a larger car," he told Thomas. "We're an hour away from the inn," Thomas said, getting in. "You'll survive." Connor very much doubted it. He clambered into the front seat and spent the entirety of the trip with his arm wrenched around the back of the seat so he could hold Victoria's hand whilst concurrently being bludgeoned by questions from her brother. He finally swore in exasperation.

"Aye, I remember it all!" he exclaimed. "Would you care for an exhaustive list of hauntings?"

"Ghosts Behaving Badly," Thomas said with a grin. "Now, there's a television show for you." "I had reason," Connor said, through gritted teeth. "Though," he added, craning his neck around to lookat Iolanthe, "I humbly beg pardon of you, Mistress MacLeod, for all the grief I caused you."

"She's a McKinnon," Thomas reminded him. "Not when I was tormenting her."

"It's in the past," Iolanthe said, "but what's left of supper will be quite present if you do not make haste, husband." Connor gave Victoria's hand a squeeze and quickly returned his own to the front seat. He was no coward, but he had no desire to have Iolanthe puke on him by mistake.

It seemed to take an eternity to get to the inn, but given that he had waited at least that long for Victoria, he could not complain. He helped her out of the car and pulled her into his arms. What he wanted to do was crawl into her very soul and find himself completely surrounded by her. He thought the next best thing might be an extended bit of kissing, so he bid good night to Thomas and Iolanthe and started for the castle.

"Don't you want your sword?" Thomas asked. "You know, just in case."

Connor frowned. He couldn't exactly buckle it about him in a fancy, modern suit, so he supposed he

would have to carry it in his hand. That left one less hand to hold Victoria with on the way to the castle, but who was he to complain? He looked at his love.

"Wait here."

He fetched his sword and found her where he had left her, looking so lovely in the moonlight that he

could hardly bear the sight of her. He took a deep breath and strode forward- "Wait," Thomas said. He returned from inside the inn with an umbrella. "It might rain." "There isn't a bloody cloud in the sky." "We're in England. It rains all the time." "Bonk him over the head with it," Victoria suggested. "I really think you two shouldn't be alone," Thomas said. Connor frowned at Victoria's brother. "I will not ravish her." "I'll come along to make sure." Victoria elbowed Thomas aside. "Beat it. Get lost. Keep on truckin'. Do all those things before I find my sword, the one that does not collapse, and turn you into a sieve."

Connor found himself smiling. Aye, this was the woman for him, one who appreciated a good threat as

much as he did and almost had the means to follow through on it. He took Victoria's hand and pulled her away.

"You'll be safe with me," he said. "I'll chaperone us myself."

"I'm sure you'll have help!" Thomas called helpfully from behind them.

Connor walked with Victoria to the castle, and could hardly believe he was where he was, with all his

memories intact, as if he had lived two lifetimes to their fullest.

And now he would have yet another life with his love. It was more than he could ask for and certainly

more than he deserved. He stood in the midst of the bailey and put his arms around Victoria, stunned that he could do the like, and smiled at her.

She smiled in return. "You're cheerful."

"Can you fault me for it? I have my heart's desire before me and I can actually hold her with mortal arms.

My other choice is to weep, but I dare not lest I lose face with more than just you."

She looked around, then shrugged. "I don't see anyone."

He searched for observers himself, and realized she spoke the truth. It was quite a happy discovery.

Connor smiled pleasantly, gathered Victoria closer, and began to be about the business of kissing her as thoroughly as he wanted to.

His knees grew a little weak. They might have buckled, had he not had such iron control over his form. He buried one of his hands in Victoria's hair and drew her even closer, finding himself becoming caught up in truly expressing how much he loved her. He felt a little light-headed and supposed it might be time for them both to come up for a bit of air.

Briefly.

He lifted his head, then squawked. In a manly, gruff fashion, of course.

He was surrounded by the Boar's Head Trio, all staring at him with fierce frowns and folded arms. Even

Roderick, that womanly fop, was there, looking displeased. "Och," Hugh McKinnon said sternly, "and there'll be none of that much adoing afore the weddin'!" "I was kissing her!" Connor exclaimed. "Can you fault me for it?" "We cannot, 'tis true," Ambrose agreed, clasping his hands behind his back. "Well, carry on." "Carry yourselves on-outside my gates," Connor suggested. "Can't," Fulbert de Piaget said pleasantly. "Can't," Connor repeated in disbelief. "Why the bloody hell not?" " 'Tis our duty as progenitors to watch over her." "Watch over her later." "We'll watch now." The ghosts resumed their folded arms and gruff expressions. Connor looked at them, then down at Victoria. He sighed.

"Let us return to the inn. We'll plan the wedding. I daresay 'twill be the only way we have any privacy."

"One could hope," she said with a laugh.

Connor bid the ghosts a curt good-night and walked with Victoria from the castle. He supposed perhaps

'twas for the best. There would be time enough, he hoped fervently, for a good deal of kissing and a good deal more later. For now, perhaps it would serve him well to sit and ponder the improbability and good fortune that was his.

A beautiful, spirited woman who loved him.

A time of luxuries and marvels.

And he himself, alive and able to enjoy them all.

"Do you realize you're running?" Victoria asked, running alongside him.

"I'm in a hurry," he said. "So much to do."

And so little time. And so little means. He would have to come to terms with that, and quickly, but for

now, he would take his love back to the inn where they had passed so many pleasant evenings together, and rejoice in the fact that she was soon to be his.

He quickened his pace.

The Future was his and he didn't want it rushing away from him.

Chapter 37.

Life was, Victoria decided, indeed very strange. It had been precisely five days since Connor had found his memories-or, rather, his memories had found him. Her wedding had been planned for the upcoming Saturday, with the Earl of Artane happily providing his local vicar to do the honors. Victoria had found herself measured and pinned and prodded several times already in preparation for the big event. Connor had been fitted once, but he'd managed to bellow his way out of any further indignities.