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from the hills up above the dun,” she said, watching his face.  
    His eyes focused on her. His expression remained serious. But then he smiled and seemed to relax. “Thank you. I would like that very much.”  
    She smiled, too. “Now that you are not so tall, I thought it would be necessary for you to stand on the highest hill to get a view of that same ocean.”  
    Oh, it was enjoyable, the way the stunned expression spread across his fine features. It was clear now that she would be able to keep him at arm’s-length quite easily, and simply enjoy his company for a little while before he returned to his own people. There would be no danger of her head being turned by his tall, fair form, by his strange and beautiful eyes…  
    “I am glad indeed that it was you who saved my life,” he said wryly, “for it must mean you like me at least a little. If you did not, think of how cruel you might be, with a wit as quick as yours.”  
    Then, to her surprise, he sank gracefully to one knee before her in the rushes. “My lady, before you I am never any taller than this. Will you still show me the way to the highest hill?”  
    She blushed. “Only if you get up off your knees.”  
    “Ah, that is kind of you. I am so glad you would not have me travel on my knees. The rocks—”  
    “Would ruin a good pair of leathers,” she snapped, cutting him off. But he got to his feet and stood back a bit, extending his arm toward the door with a little bow.  
    She brushed past him and he followed closely as she walked outside. She was fairly certain she heard him chuckling.  
    Muriel walked with long strides across the grounds of the dun. She looked neither left nor right but simply walked straight across the greensward toward the heavy wooden gates in the outer wall. It helped to keep her mind from dwelling on the tall stranger who followed her.  
    And he is a stranger, she reminded herself. As the king had wisely pointed out, his story was still very much in question. She could not allow herself to forget that.  
    The gates stood open to the day, allowing workers and servants to come and go as they hauled water in and refuse out. Muriel and Brendan walked outside and began the climb up the grassy hillside above Dun Farraige, until they reached the wide, rolling hilltops scattered with oak and willow trees.  
    The great size of the dun could only be properly appreciated from up here. Its two solid, grass-covered earthen walls—one inside the other, with a rain-filled ditch in between—formed vast circles around the twenty round houses and the long, rectangular hall of the king. The buildings had all had their straw thatching repaired, and the rooftops shone golden in the sun above white walls freshly daubed and smoothed with clay to keep out the cold winds from the sea.  
    Along the inner wall were an armory, a smokehouse, and a huge stack of peat bricks for fuel, as well as pens holding glossy-coated horses and a few sleek calves and fat lambs. The whole place held an air of prosperity and plenty—and safety against the elements and against invaders.  
    But Brendan only glanced at the spectacular view before turning back to Muriel. “I do think you must like me, Lady Muriel. Why else would you invite me to come up here with you?”  
    She started to give him a cold reply, but then saw how his blue and brown eyes sparkled in the sunlight, how he was all but grinning. He was baiting her, hoping to see her lose her temper and quite possibly make a fool of herself.  
    Well, it was not going to happen on this day!  
    Muriel merely smiled politely at him. “I thought only to show a small kindness to a lost stranger. If you want to go back to the dun, please feel free to do so. The path is easily found.”  
    “And I appreciate your kindness very much, as I have told you. But are you saying that you would have brought any stranger up here? Was there nothing about me at all that you found attractive?”  
    She