Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
“I dare you to read a ‘Kurland’ story and not enjoy it!”—Heartland Critiques
Praise for the novels of USA Today bestselling author Lynn Kurland
Dreams of Stardust
“Kurland weaves another fabulous read with just the right amounts of laughter, romance, and fantasy.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“Kurland crafts some of the most ingenious time-travel romances readers can find. Cleverly merging past and present, she spins a dreamlike web that so completely captivates readers . . . Wonderfully clever and completely enchanting.”
—Romantic Times Book Club
“Dreams of Stardust, by Lynn Kurland, who is truly a masterful storyteller, will enchant you with its spellbinding plot, fascinating characters, and sizzling sensuality. If you thought you were not a fan of time travel, this mesmerizing novel will not only change your mind, but also delight you in the process!”—RomanceJunkies.com
“One of our most beloved time-travel authors and deservedly so. Each new book is cause for celebration!”
—FreshFictionReviews.com
“A terrific time-travel romance.”
—ParaNormal Romance Reviews
A Garden in the Rain
“Kurland laces her exquisitely romantic, utterly bewitching blend of contemporary romance and time travel with a delectable touch of tart wit, leaving readers savoring every word of this superbly written romance.”—Booklist
“Kurland is clearly one of romance’s finest writers—she consistently delivers the kind of stories readers dream about. Don’t miss this one.”—The Oakland Press
From This Moment On
“A disarming blend of romance, suspense, and heartwarming humor, this book is romantic comedy at its best.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A deftly plotted delight, seasoned with a wonderfully wry sense of humor and graced with endearing, unforgettable characters, including a trio of healer-witches, a rough-around-the-edges hero who can’t understand why all his fiancées flee or faint at the sight of him, and a heroine who discovers she is stronger than she ever imagined.”—Booklist
My Heart Stood Still
“Written with poetic grace and a wickedly subtle sense of humor . . . the essence of pure romance. Sweet, poignant, and truly magical, this is a rare treat: a romance with characters readers will come to care about and a love story they will cherish.”—Booklist
“A totally enchanting tale, sensual and breathtaking . . . An absolute must read.”—Rendevousreviews.com
If I Had You
“Kurland brings history to life . . . in this tender medieval romance.”—Booklist
“A passionate story filled with danger, intrigue, and sparkling dialogue.”—Rendevousreviews.com
The More I See You
“The superlative Ms. Kurland once again wows her readers with her formidable talent as she weaves a tale of enchantment that blends history with spellbinding passion and impressive characterization, not to mention a magnificent plot.”
—Rendevousreviews.com
Another Chance to Dream
“Kurland creates a special romance between a memorable knight and his lady.”—Publishers Weekly
The Very Thought of You
“[A] masterpiece . . . this fabulous tale will enchant anyone who reads it.”—Painted Rock Reviews
This Is All I Ask
“An exceptional read.”—The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
“Both powerful and sensitive . . . a wonderfully rich and rewarding book.”—Susan Wiggs
“A medieval of stunning intensity. Sprinkled with adventure, fantasy, and heart, This Is All I Ask reaches outside the boundaries of romance to embrace every thoughtful reader, every person of feeling.”—Christina Dodd
A Dance Through Time
“An irresistibly fast and funny romp across time.”
—Stella Cameron
“Lynn Kurland’s vastly entertaining time travel treats us to a delightful hero and heroine . . . a humorous novel of feisty fun, and adventure.”—A Little Romance
“Her heroes are delightful . . . A wonderful read!”
—Heartland Critiques
Titles by Lynn Kurland
STARDUST OF YESTERDAY
A DANCE THROUGH TIME
THIS IS ALL I ASK
THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU
ANOTHER CHANCE TO DREAM
THE MORE I SEE YOU
IF I HAD YOU
MY HEART STOOD STILL
FROM THIS MOMENT ON
A GARDEN IN THE RAIN
DREAMS OF STARDUST
Anthologies
A KNIGHT’S VOW
(with Patricia Potter, Deborah Simmons, and Glynnis Campbell)
LOVE CAME JUST IN TIME
THE CHRISTMAS CAT
(with Julie Beard, Barbara Bretton, and Jo Beverley)
CHRISTMAS SPIRITS
(with Casey Claybourne, Elizabeth Bevarly, and Jenny Lykins)
VEILS OF TIME
(with Maggie Shayne, Angie Ray, and Ingrid Weaver)
OPPOSITES ATTRACT
(with Elizabeth Bevarly, Emily Carmichael, and Elda Minger)
TAPESTRY
(with Madeline Hunter, Sherrilyn Kenyon, and Karen Marie Moning)
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or ar
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MUCH ADO IN THE MOONLIGHT
A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author.
PRINTING HISTORY
Jove mass-market edition / May 2006
Copyright © 2006 by Lynn Curland.
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To the ladies
on my board . . .
Acknowledgments
In addition to my fabulous family who makes life heaven on earth, I would like to thank the following:
Gail Fortune, for giving me my start in this business and for her unwavering faith in my stories;
Anne Sowards, for her wonderful ideas, her eagle eye, and for being willing to take on this complicated cast of characters;
Leslie Gelbman, for continuing to provide me a place to publish my stories;
Judy G., intrepid camper extraordinaire, for helping me figure out East from West;
And last on this page but foremost in my thoughts on this book, my readers, with an especial thank you to all those who have made my website and my email inbox wonderful places to be. I always think about all of you wonderful souls who shell out your hard-earned money for my books (multiple copies, in numerous cases, to replace those you’ve loaned out!). Without you, my books would have no home. A thousand thank-yous!
Cast of Characters
CONNOR MACDOUGAL, laird of Thorpewold Castle
VICTORIA MCKINNON
Thomas McKinnon, her brother
Iolanthe McKinnon, Thomas’s wife
Jennifer McKinnon, Victoria’s sister
John McKinnon, Victoria’s father
Helen McKinnon, Victoria’s mother
Mary MacLeod, Victoria’s grandmother
THE BOAR’S HEAD TRIO
Ambrose MacLeod
Hugh McKinnon
Fulbert de Piaget
MRS. PRUITT, the innkeeper at the Boar’s Head Inn
THE ACTORS
Michael Fellini
Cressida Blankenship
Fred, the stage manager
JAMES MACLEOD
Prologue
THORPEWOLD, ENGLAND
SPRING 2005
Twilight fell softly on Thorpewold Castle. Its rugged splendor was home to a scene that could have been played out in any number of medieval keeps across the isle.
The laird issued his commands firmly, but justly, and with great concern for his kinsmen. Kinsmen were attentive to their laird’s commands. Peasants went diligently about their work, content with their lot in life and anxious to serve their considerate lord. The air was full of noise from the blacksmith’s hammer and the conversings of livestock. Men commented mildly on the spring chill and the rain that seemed to fall most inconveniently when they were headed out to train.
All in all, ’twas a day much like any other, one that could be lived out on either side of Hadrian’s Wall by men possessing goodly minds and strong arms.
Only this wasn’t medieval Scotland.
And the souls inside the keep weren’t precisely mortal.
Ambrose MacLeod knew that and more as he stood just inside the barbican gate and watched the goings on. He propped his foot up on an upturned rock and made himself more comfortable against the wall. Aye, he was familiar enough with what it took to be laird, having been one once himself, and of a powerful and unruly lot. He studied the newly made laird of Thorpewold keep with a practiced eye to judge just how effective the man might be at managing a keep this size and a motley collection of lads to go with it. And based on what he was seeing, Ambrose suspected that effective just might be too tame a word for the kind of dominion Connor MacDougal was going to exercise.
The MacDougal stood in the midst of the bailey, organizing his forces with an imperiousness any monarch, past or present, would have admired.
“You, there,” he said, pointing at a hapless Scot with knobby knees, “join up with the first watch. We’ll man the walls at all hours.”
“But,” the man said, bobbing his head respectfully, “we’ve no walls to man, my laird.”
Connor thrust a finger back toward the only wall that hadn’t crumbled under the ravages of time. “There’s a wall over there. Go man it!”
The man scurried off, his plaid flapping about his skinny legs.
“And you, there,” the MacDougal said, singling out another man, “see to the gates. And you, the livestock. Ho, Robert, come see to the stables. Don’t want my horseflesh being mistreated.”
Ambrose eyed the lone horse in the bailey, a very old, quite useless bit of flesh that wouldn’t have made a decent mount for a horseless Highlander on his most desperate day, and wondered why Connor bothered.
Then again, the man had waited almost seven centuries to call the keep his own, so perhaps he had a right to be protective of what was now his.
“My laird,” said a man, venturing close with his knitted cap clutched in both hands, “what of the tower? The tower young Thomas McKinnon finished—”
Connor interrupted him with a curse. “We’ll pretend it isn’t here.”
“But, will he not be coming back to use it?”
“Not if he knows what’s good for him,” Connor snarled. “Now, get you gone and don’t trouble me further with foolish questions. See to the chickens.”
“But, my laird,” the man said, on the verge of massaging his cap into felt, “we don’t have chickens. We have chicken.”
Connor frowned. “Chicken?”
“One chicken, my laird.”
“Then go and tend it, you imbecile!”
“But, my laird, ’tis nearly dark. The chicken is roosting.”
“Wake it up, then tend it!” Connor exclaimed.
The man nodded gamely, bowed low, then hastened off to see to his business.
A chicken soon squawked in the distance.
Ambrose laughed. The saints preserve all these poor fools with Connor MacDougal setting their course for them. Well, at least they had a decent keep in which to endure their tortures.
Ambrose looked over the keep with satisfaction. Aye, ’twas a decent place, at that. The far tower had been rendered useful by Thomas McKinnon during the previous summer. Thomas’s stay at Thorpewold keep was an interesting tale, true, but not one that Ambrose could take time to reminisce over at present, past noting that Thomas had lived in the castle for a bit, then returned to America with his bride. He had left his castle uninhabited, but he certainly hadn’t intended that it remain so.
Indeed, there was a mortal who stood to come and take up residence of a sort in less than a fortnight. Ambrose smiled to himself. What would Connor MacDougal say when he found out he was having a houseguest?
Ambrose didn’t dare speculate.
Nor did he dare linger much longer. The MacDougal had already thrown him a pointed glare. Not that Ambrose had any fear of it. He and Connor had engaged in skirmishes in the past and he had always acquitted hims
elf well. Unfortunately, today was not the day for such delights. Who knew but that in the heat of battle, when he might be inspired to spew forth curses, taunts, and other insults appropriate to the moment, that something regarding the details of Connor’s upcoming visitor might inadvertently slip out and ruin the surprise?
Nay, far better to leave the MacDougal to his settling, and be about his own business elsewhere.
So Ambrose had himself a last chuckle at the men scrambling to see to Connor’s commands, then turned and walked down the path from the castle to the road. The sun was setting and he took the time to enjoy the colors of the evening. He ambled along until he reached a snug Tudor inn sitting nestled against a small hill, pleasantly far away from the bustle of the local village.
Ambrose admired the sturdy dwelling with heavy beamed frame and well-wrought leaded windows. He nodded in satisfaction at the cozy location and the ample room for visitors. He also paused to admire the lovely garden, full of the first flowers of spring and rife with the promise of a robust bit of blooming later on in the summer.
Unfortunately, admiring was all he could do, given that his nose had ceased to function several years earlier.
Several hundred years earlier, actually.
But losing the ability to smell with a mortal nose was more than a fair trade for all he had gained in his very busy afterlife. Who would have suspected that being a ghost would have been so rewarding?
Aye, and demanding as well, but there was nothing to be done about that. Who else could possibly see to what was needful but he himself? He strode through the garden, his plaid swinging about his knees and his great sword slapping against his thigh as it had for over four hundred years. Some things never changed, he supposed. A Highland lad was braw and clever, no matter the century and no matter his condition.