" Doona fash, Sam.” Calybrid, spying her scowl, hurried to balm the wound. “Ye’re plenty fair.”
“Aye,” Locryn agreed.
“With eyes the color of the Alt Dubh Gorm.”
“Sure, that too.”
“Just… no one will write odes to yer breasts is all.”
“On account of ye not having any,” Locryn supplied, rather unnecessarily, in Samantha’s opinion. "

― Kerrigan Byrne , The Scot Beds His Wife (Victorian Rebels, #5)