I knelt at Ellen's feet, as I kneel now by yours, And I swore to her by the name o' the threefold God, that I would follow ye always, to do your bidding, and guard your back, when ye became a man grow...
I glanced back over my shoulder to see the Governor, shaking hands mechanically with the new arrival, staring after us with a face like white paper.
I found myself thinking that I had always heretofore assumed that the tendency of eighteenth-century ladies to swoon was due to tight stays; now I rather thought it might be due to the idiocy of eight...
I fought back the memory of our wedding night. He was a virgin; his hands trembled when he touched me. I had been afraid too--with better reason. And then in the dawn he had held me, naked back agains...
I felt deeply betrayed that the man I depended on as friend, protector, and lover intended to do such a thing to me. And my sense of self-preservation was quietly terrified at the thought of submittin...
I feel maybe like you did, he whispered to her, too low to wake her. When ye came through the stones. Like the world is still there—but it’s no the world ye had. He’d swear she hadn’t wakened, but a h...
I cried then, holding nothing back. For empty years, yearning for the touch of a hand. Hollow years, lying beside a man I had betrayed, for whom I had no tenderness. For the terrors and doubts and gri...
I could feel his heart beating against my ribs, and wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, not moving, not making love, just breathing the same air.
I can hear. Hear them. It. Don’t you hear? It was a struggle to speak, to form coherent thoughts. The call here was different; not the beehive sound of Craigh na Dun, but a hum like the vibration of t...
I am your master … and you’re mine. Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own.
I am thinking that you're verra beautiful, Sassenach, he said softly. Maybe if one has a taste for gooseflesh on a large scale, I said tartly, stepping out of the tub and reaching for the cup. He gr...
How to tell her in words, then, what he had learned himself by pain and grace? That only by forgiveness could she forget—and that forgiveness was not a single act, but a matter of constant practice.
His own words brought back to him the letters he had written now and then. The phantoms, as he thought of them: letters he’d written to Jamie Fraser—honest, conversational, heartfelt, and very real. N...
His head bowed and his lips fastened softly on my nipple. I groaned, feeling the half-painful prickle of the milk rushing through the tiny ducts. I put a hand behind his head, and pressed him slightly...
He’d suspected it when he’d found Fraser in the chapel with Geneva Dunsany’s coffin, just before her funeral. But now he knew, beyond doubt. Knew, too, why Fraser did not desire his freedom.
Here’s tae us. Wha’s like us? Damned few, she replied in broad Scots, and they’re all deid.
Hello, I said softly, one hand over the butterfly wings that beat inside me.
He wished to cover her with his body, possess her-for if he could do that, he could pretend to himself that she was safe. Covering her so...he might protect her. Or so he felt, even knowing how sensel...
He went on loving her, she whispered, as much to herself as to anyone else. He didn’t forget her. Of course he didna forget her. She opened her eyes to see Ian’s long face and kind brown eyes six inch...
He was leaning on his desk, chin in his hands, staring at me. There are shocks, I said precisely, smoothing back my damp curls and giving him an eyeball, and then there are shocks. If you know what I...