“Love,” he said, not a question. “Aye. Do ye not want love, romantic love, in your life at some point?” Leah swallowed, gathering her courage. “Tae borrow a Bible metaphor, ye dinnae want to end up like Esau, selling your birthright tae Jacob for a bowl of porridge. Ye have much of life ahead of ye. ’Twould be a shame to settle for competence and sausage rolls when ye could have . . . love.”
