“Exquisite,” Somerled remarked. “Delightful. Quite outside the usual.” He was not looking at the spoons. “Introduce me to the young lady, will you?” He snapped his fingers and one of the big, fur-cloaked warriors came forward to clasp the box shut and take it under his arm. Wolfskins: there were two of them here, both formidable men, though neither, she thought, as tall or broad as Eyvind. Nessa stared back at Somerled, willing herself not to blush, not to lower her eyes in embarrassment or shame. She would not give him the satisfaction of that. His own eyes widened a touch as she stared steadily at him; his mouth twitched mischievously, as if he wanted her to share a private joke.

“The lady’s name is Nessa,” Brother Tadhg told him direct, without translating what Somerled had said. “I caution you against speaking out of turn here. Any sign of disrespect to her, the least ill word, will stir every man present to rage.”

Somerled’s dark gaze swiveled to the Christian. “Well, well,” he drawled in feigned amazement. “So fast to the defense, so vehement. Are you not a priest, and bound to chastity? I would swear you harbored a weakness for the lady yourself, so swiftly you spring to protect her. She is rather delectable, isn’t she? I find that “touch me not” air quite irresistible.”

“I have warned you,” Tadhg said quietly. “Ignore it at your peril.”

“Ask the king if his daughter is promised in marriage.”

Nessa froze. And now Engus had turned to his translator, demanding an explanation.

“What is he saying? Why do you not translate these words? Did he speak of Nessa?”

Tadhg cleared his throat.

“I am not his daughter.” Nessa’s words came clear and confident in the tongue of the foreigners. “King Engus is my uncle. I think you know this already. And I am not promised, nor will I ever be. I am a priestess of the Folk, and sworn to a life of solitude in observance of the rituals. My future will be in my own hands, not those of some man hungry for power.” That last bit had been rather ill-advised; still, she felt a certain satisfaction for having said it.

“My goodness,” said Somerled, his smile widening to something that seemed for a fleeting moment quite genuine, and not at all part of the game he played. “Beautiful, untouchable, and clever as well. A voice like sweet music, and speaking in our own tongue. I’m impressed. I wish I had met you earlier. Sworn to a life of solitude, you say. That’s somewhat hard to believe.”