It’s not what’s happened or what’s about to happen; what’s important is the sense of emotional uncertainty between the characters and the delicacy of the mutual trust being established.
I said I was a virgin, not a monk, he said, kissing me again. If I find I need guidance, I’ll ask.
I put back my head, looking up at the deep black sky swimming with hot stars. If you knew they were really balls of flaming gas, you could imagine them as Van Gogh saw them, without difficulty . . . a...
I lay still, wondering exactly what was the matter with me. Or rather, not what, but why. I knew by now what it was, all right; it was jealousy. I was indeed jealous; an emotion I hadn’t felt for some...
Despair dragged at me like an anchor, pulling me down. I closed my eyes and retreated to some dim place within, where there was nothing but an aching grey blankness…
Claire. The name knifed across his heart with a pain that was more racking than anything his body had ever been called on to withstand.
Babies are soft. Anyone looking at them can see the tender, fragile skin and know it for the rose-leaf softness that invites a finger's touch. But when you live with them and love them, you feel the s...
Aye, beg me for mercy, Sassenach. Ye shallna have it, though; not yet.
Mid-afternoon, I'll go out and do the household errands, come home, do my gardening, go for an evening walk.
You're beautiful to me, Jamie, I said softly, at last. So beautiful, you break my heart.
The ninth Earl of Ellesmere had his chin thrust out as far as it would go, but the defiant look in his eye was tempered with a certain doubt as he intercepted Jamie’s cold blue gaze. Jamie set the hor...
Next time I marry someone, I’ll pick a lass who wakes up cheerful in the morning,
It is for this reason that a scientist constructs hypotheses—suggestions for the cause of an observation. But a hypothesis must never be confused with an explanation—with proof.
I stood in front of him in nothing but my shoes and gartered rose-silk stockings.
I reached for a pair of my own, intrigued. Why not? Did the ancient Gaels not wear undergarments? Frank leered. You’ve never heard that old song about what a Scotsman wears beneath his kilts? Presumab...
I meant it, Claire,' he said quietly. 'My life is yours. And it's yours to decide what we shall do, where we go next. To France, to Italy, even back to Scotland. My heart has been yours since first I...
I had come to the conclusion - based on experience - that the only real way of learning to write a novel was probably to write a novel.
I didna say I wanted an apology, did I? If I recall aright, what I said was ‘Bite me again.
Good sex scene is about the exchange of emotions, not bodily fluids
Comment sont vos selles, grandpere? - Germain to Jamie.