As with most things in life, Lady Maccon preferred the civilized exterior to the dark underbelly (with the exception of pork products, of course.)

What’s that?” she asked the girl, wrinkling her nose. “Oh, that? That’s just Pillover.” “And what’s a pillover, when it’s at home?” “My little brother.” “Ah, I commiserate. I have several of my own. Dashed inconvenient, brothers.

What did you do?” “Well, you see, there was this pot of tea, simply sitting there…” He trailed off. “Useful thing, tea,” commented Lyall thoughtfully.

...you have been fraternizing with warewolves overmuch! Military men can be terribly bad for one's verbal concatenation!

He dinna act like an Alpha." "He does in some areas.

Classic author moment, "Oh dear, did I kill that character or not?

Scotsmen, she had occasion to observe, often did have nice knees. Perhaps that was why they insisted upon kilts.