Chapter Twenty“I’m not a five-year old who needs to be coddled into eating your soup.”
Landau slapped the table.
“Ach, I knew ye’d come around, lassie. Too much of the fighter in ye to do aught else.” She’d finally put together that his brogue was thickest when he was most happy.
Meghan stirred the thick broth, vegetables and lamb floating to the surface then disappearing like the porpoises who had played in the trimaran’s bow wave. Each leap released an aroma so thick and rich that it was nearly as substantial as the soup itself. She was not going to give Landau the satisfaction and tried to toy with it a few moments longer. But the best of intentions gave way by the second stir and she ladled forth another spoonful.
“Do you truly have to go back, lass? This old man finds a right plea
