Only much later did she realize that he hadn’t answered her question.

“’Tis nigh time,” Silvan grumbled when they entered the great hall.

“Da, where’s the fifth Book of Manannán?” Dageus asked without preamble.

“There is no fifth Book of Manannán,” Chloe said matter-of-factly. “There are only three. Everyone knows that.”

Dageus gave her a cool smirk. “Ah, the nefarious everyone. I’ve long wondered who comprises that group.”

Silvan looked amused, cocked his head and glanced inquiringly at Dageus. “Think you she needs a distraction? I thought you’d been distracting her quite thoroughly.”

Chloe blushed.

“’Tis in the tower library,” Silvan added. “But hurry back, we’ve much to discuss and Nellie has shown me a most amazing thing.”

When Dageus loped out of the hall, Silvan patted the seat beside him. “Come, m’dear,” he said with a warm smile. “Bide a wee with me and tell me of yourself. How did you meet my son?”

When was she ever going to come up with a suitable answer for that? Chloe wondered wryly. She glanced away from his penetrating gaze, blushing a bit.

“The truth, m’dear,” Silvan said softly.

Chloe glanced back at him, startled. “Am I that transparent?”

He smiled reassuringly. “Knowing my son as I do, I doona believe ’twas an ordinary meeting.”

“No,” she agreed with a gusty little sigh. “We didn’t exactly meet. We . . . er, well, it was more like we collided. . . .”

Her story made him laugh aloud and Silvan couldn’t wait to repeat it to Nellie, who would savor every word of the outrageous tale. The lass was a fine storyteller, melodramatic enough to keep things lively and exploit the good parts for all they were worth. Funny, too, with a self-effacing sense of humor that was most appealing. The lass had no idea how bonny and unusual she was. She considered herself “a bit of a nerd.” After she’d defined the word, Silvan decided a nerd was a fine thing to be. (That he himself fell into the “brainy, not particularly graceful, and a little bit backward” category might have influenced his opinion a wee.) Aye, the telling of the tale was a lovely bit of word-weaving, and the tale itself reeked of the fated meeting of a Keltar and his mate.

While she spoke, he deep-listened. He sensed a pure heart in her, a heart like Dageus’s, more sensitive than most, wildly emotional, hence carefully guarded. He heard her love for his son in the slightly husky timbre of her voice. A love so strong that it fashed her a wee, and she was not yet ready to speak of it.

That it was there was enough for Silvan. His son had indeed found his mate. He pondered the irony of the timing, even as he blessed it.