He had enough experience in the business of prayer to recognize an answer when it showed up, though, however unwelcome.
He had learned early on the trick of living separately in a crowd, private in his mind when his body could not be. But he was born a mountain-dweller, and had learned early, too, the enchantment of so...
He had them now, everyone warmed by the glow of good humor, attention attracted by the small flashes of gilt and glitter. Now they would follow him without flagging or complaint, along the path of log...
He looked like Bree, didn’t he? He was like her? Yes. He breathed heavily, almost a snort. I could see it in your face—when you’d look at her, I could see you thinking of him. Damn you, Claire Beaucha...
He lounged in the corner like a crouching cat, watching me through eyes narrowed against the sun.
He put a hand flat on the counter, as though to steady himself. I have—bad news. I can see that, I said, a little tartly. Sit down, for God’s sake, before you fall down. He shook his head like a horse...
He said there was always an hour in the day when time seems to stop—but that it was different for everyone. He thought it might be the hour when one was born.
He said, ‘If you’re sizable, half the men ye meet will fear ye, and the other half will want to try ye. Knock one down,’ he said, ‘and the rest will let ye be. But learn to do it fast and clean, or yo...
He shook his head, absorbed in one of his feats of memory, those brief periods of scholastic rapture where he lost touch with the world around him, absorbed completely in conjuring up knowledge from a...
He sighed, but smiled to let me know he didn’t mind the question. If you really must know, I have for many years enjoyed a physical relationship with my cook.
He still didn’t know why the frog hadn’t killed him.
He took my arm, and bowed formally. And may I have the pleasure to present to you my wife, Claire? he said aloud, shifting effortlessly into French. Claire? The Governor looked wildly at me. Claire? E...
He touched the rough crucifix that lay against his chest and whispered to the moving air, Lord, that she might be safe, she and my children. Then turned his cheek to her reaching hand and touched her...
He wanted to laugh; the vision of her pounding that wee boy in a fury of berserk rage, hair flying in the wind and a look of blood in her eye, was one he would treasure.
Help us, O Lord, to remember how often men do wrong through want of thought, rather than from lack of love; and how cunning are the snares that trip our feet.
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.
He’s fair-haired, wi’ long yellow locks tied up wi’ blue ribbon. And big eyes and long lashes, too, like a lassie’s. Hayes leered at his listeners, batting his own stubby lashes in mock flirtation. En...
His half-visible presence reminded me faintly of Jamie; he was nearly as tall as his uncle, and very nearly as strong, though still lean and gangling with adolescence. We
His heart was beating very erratically; perhaps it would conveniently stop. He waited for a moment to allow it to do this if it liked, but it went on cheerfully thumping away.
How should I know? Jamie said testily. D’ye think I had anything to do wi’ engaging midwives? Mrs. Martin, the old midwife who had delivered all previous Murray children, had died—like so many others—...
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