“This is the woman I'm t' marry! Where have ye been all me life, me love?"And without a blink, I replied, "Don't start with me, ye scoundrel! If ye come with an empty purse, ye can leave now, fer I'd rather be unwed than unfed.”
“If'n I was ye,I'd do nothin' else but hunt.""I've no doubt you'd do just that, for a more lazy individual I've yet to meet-other than myself,of course."Shelton beamed. "Thank ye,me lord! 'Tis a rare day I can consider meself an equal with ye on any grounds.""You're welcome," Dougal returned gravely."Aye,ye've made bein' lazy a form o' art that few-look!" The groom pointed eagerly at the soft shoulder of the road, where a fox print appeared. "Cooee,looks fresh, too!"Dougal eyed the thicket beyond. "Fresh or no, it would take a better man than me to get a horse over this uneven ground without breaking a leg."Shelton shot him a sharp look. "Ye're many things,me lord, but unskilled on a horse ain't one of 'em.""You unman me, Shelton. I don't know how to react to such excessive praise."The groom's expression turned to one of long suffering. "There ye go ag'in with the nonsense, me lord. Are ye sure ye ain't a bit Irish?"Dougal grinned. "Not that my mother would admit to.”
“Tis a sad day when ye ha' t' pinch yerself t' see if ye're awake or in th' midst o' a night terror. 'Tis a really sad day when ye have t' pinch yerself twice."Old woman Nora to her three wee granddaughters on a cold winter's night”
“I've never found it helpful to treat fate with a gentle hand. Everytime I've stroked, hopin' fer a favor, she's slapped me hand and laughed at me. If ye want something, take fate by the throat and shake it out o' her.”
“Ye're playing fer the house? But ye won it just a month ago! Why,this land is worth more than yer estate near Stirling!"Now that he'd toured the land and knew the true condition of the house, Dougal was tempted to agree. The deed to MacFarlane House was worth far more than he'd originally thought.Shelton shook his head. "Ye're moonstruck, me lord. Moonstruck and fairy-pinched.”
“Ye said yerself that the man was bonny enough to sup with a spoon.”
“Gor," she breathed when she picked up the nearly empty tureen. "Someone done eat the soup!""Never!" Angus said, his eyes as wide as saucers."All of it," she said, holding the tureen toward Angus.He peered into it as if expecting to see a hole in the bottom. "Well, I'll be.""It was excellent," Dougal said.Angus sent Dougal a look of respect. "Ye must have an iron stomach.""Indeed," Mary said, a worried look on her face. "I beg yer pardon, me lord, but do ye feel well? There was a bit of pepper in that soup."Dougal shrugged. "I'm fine. And I must get that recipe to give to my own chef.""Gor!" Mary blinked at him, unable to look away.Angus did the same.Dougal smiled inquiringly at Sophia. "I feel as if I've become an exhibit at the British Museum.”