“Adieu, my ladies. If you ever venture to Scotland…leave the husbands at home. (Braden)”

“Ever the charmer, eh, Braden? (Sin)Hold your tongue, Sin. (Braden)I would, but with my luck, one of your giant Scottish bugs would land on it. Besides, it makes my hand wet and pruney when I do that. (Sin)”

“Leave him be, Sin, or I swear, in the mood I’m in, I’ll tear your head off your shoulders and use it for a footstool. (Braden)”

“You better not tup our sister! Or you’ll be having us to deal with, Braden MacAllister! (Duncan)Could I please just deal with one threat of death at a time? (Braden)”

“You should have been a jester instead of a knight. (Sin)True, but jesters don’t get to carry a sword. Personally, I like my sword. You know, the whole knight images really makes the ladies lust for me. Not that any have lusted for me recently, since I have only been in the company of married women, but one is ever hopeful…Oh, wait, I’m in Scotland, where they hate us English. Damn, my chances with the women have just fallen to nil. Wasn’t there a monastery a few leagues back? Mayhap I should go take my vows and just save myself the embarrassment of being sneered at. (Simon)”

“Clumsy? Why, I’ve had more women than you, you whelp. Well. Maybe not more than you, but certainly more than Ewan. (Lochlan)That’s not saying much. My left boot has had more women than Ewan. (Braden)”

“His eyes defiant and smoldering, Braden held his sword aimed at the MacDouglas’s throat. “To get to her, you’ll have to come through me.” “You want to die for her?” Robby asked. “Aye,” Braden said without hesitation. He glanced at her and for the first time she saw the love in his eyes. “I will die for her.”