Quinn snorted indelicately. "Not bloody likely. Least he let Scotland well enough alone. Good thing neither he nor Nero are around still. I'd love a chance t'spit in their eyes."

She knew she should bury her hatred, after all it'd been far too long, but rape was an unforgivable sin to her, both physically and governmentally. She was glad she'd been well east of Europe when the Viking raids began. It still pained her to see what her former countrymen had become.

She took a sip of the deep red wine and pulled her thoughts together. Now that the pesky sassenach of a waiter had left, she could find out what Mark wanted of her. Somehow, she was thinking, it wasn't the pleasure of her company.

"So, Mark," Quinn said. "What is it that brings ye t'London then?"