Free Much Ado In the Moonlight by Lynn Kurland Page A

brushed her teeth, already working time into her schedule the next day for scouting out cozy locales for what she was sure would be long conversations with Michael about Shakespearean metaphors. Once Michael arrived, she would be over her jet lag and ready to make her own match.
    Of course, if she really got stuck, she might enlist a grandfather or two, but she would save those big guns for later.
    She paused, then shook her head slowly. That she was even contemplating the like said much about her mental state. She was not accustomed to having things around her take on lives of their own. Ghosts had not been in her plans.
    Well, at least, not off stage.
    She slapped her toothbrush down on the counter. She could handle the ghosts as long as they remained safely in the inn’s kitchen. If worse came to worst, she would make them sign a contract agreeing to stay out of sight and out of her love life.
    She went to bed before she could deliberate any longer on the merits of Fate versus Ghostly Interference. She wasn’t sure she believed in either. If there was luck to be had, or love to be won, it would be had and won by her own efforts.
    Of that she was certain.

Chapter 4
    y laird, my laird, my laird!” “My Connor sat on a rock in the middle of his bailey where the smithy had been several centuries earlier, sharpening his sword. He looked up at the current candidate for the lofty position of captain of his guard and sighed lightly. When would come the day that provided him with a man worthy of such an honor?
    Not today, apparently.
    At least Robby Fergusson possessed a smidgen more wit than Angus Campbell. Unfortunately, he also possessed traits that were better suited to a sheepdog than a guardsman.
    “My laird,” Robby said, bouncing up and down excitedly in front of Connor. “I’ve tidings!”
    “Then stand still and deliver them,” Connor exclaimed. “By the saints, man, you’re giving me a queasy stomach watching you skip about!”
    Robby planted his feet firmly against the dirt, looked at them a time or two as if he had to make certain they would remain where he placed them, then delivered his tidings triumphantly.
    “There’s someone on the road, coming toward the castle.” Connor considered. It could be a stranger, he supposed, but it also could be the lad who had capered about so incomprehensibly several days ago.
    Or it could be Vee McKinnon.
    Connor looked at his sword, gleaming despite the overcast day, and smiled. Then he looked up at Robby.
    “Indeed,” Connor said pleasantly. “Who do you think it could be?”
    Robby blinked. “Well, my laird, I’ve no idea.”
    “Man or woman?”
    “I don’t know that, either.”
    “Friend or enemy?”
    “Um . . .”
    “Mortal or not?”
    “Ah . . .”
    Connor swung his sword. Robby might have lacked wit, but he didn’t lack agility. He managed to duck before he lost his head, then he took one look at Connor’s frown, and fled.
    “Next!” Connor bellowed.
    No one seemed anxious to volunteer.
    Connor rolled his eyes and went to stand in the middle of the bailey. Some men sauntered over to see what he was about. Others limped over as quickly as their feeble legs would carry them. Connor smiled to himself in satisfaction. Those were the ones he’d tormented in the lists earlier in the week, and there they were, still feeling the aftereffects. He really should make time in his undeath to run through the garrison more regularly. There was nothing like a little humiliation to really bring recalcitrant guardsmen to heel.
    “Hide yourselves until I give you word,” Connor said jovially. “Someone comes. I am hoping for a foe worthy of my skills for a change.”
    “A man can dream,” one of the men said wistfully.
    Connor nodded. “Aye, but dreaming may be all I do this day. Is there one to stand against me in truth?”
    Most of the men shook their heads, as if they simply could not contemplate such a thing. A few looked as if they thought they might