“But it is, lass,” he pressed, affably baiting her. “Dreadful, indeed. Why, don’t you remember the way the heavy mists can settle in for days, only to break out in the end with a sky so blue it’ll hurt your eyes?”
She could almost feel the gentle brush of the sea breeze against her face. “Aye, I can see your point.”
“I knew you’d agree.” He shook his head. “You certainly cannot have forgotten those contemptible knaves who inhabit the isles, with their rude tongues and unmannerly ways?”
“Aye, the whisper of their heavenly accent comes to me even as you speak,” she answered, looking at him with an air of mild accusation. “And to walk down the paths of Skye only to have every crofter, fisherman, and herding lass smile with pleasure at the sight of you is a disconcerting thing, indeed. Aye,
