1
" Did you regret it?” I asked. “Not taking him up on his offer, I mean?” “Ten thousand times, at the very least,” he assured me, breaking into a rueful grin. “At the same time … refusing him was one of the few acts of true nobility to which I would lay claim for myself. It’s true, you know,” he added, “selflessness does carry its own reward—for if I had taken him, that would have destroyed forever what did exist between us. “To have given him instead the gift of my understanding, hard come by as it was,” he added ironically, “left me with his friendship. So I am left with momentary regret on the one hand, but satisfaction on the other. And in the end it was the friendship that I valued most. "
― Diana Gabaldon , The Fiery Cross / A Breath of Snow and Ashes / An Echo in the Bone / Written in My Own Heart's Blood (Outlander #5-8)
4
" It comes for two nights, three—rarely, four—and then it’s gone, and I don’t see it again for weeks, sometimes months. And then it comes again, and I am enchanted once more.” He rolled onto his side in a rustle of bedclothes, regarding me. “Do you see? I do not own this creature—would not, if I could. Its coming is a gift, which I accept with gratitude, but when it’s gone, there is no sense of abandonment or deprivation. I’m only glad to have had it for so long as it chose to remain.” “And you’re saying that your relationship with Manoke is the same. Does he feel that way about you, do you think?” I asked, fascinated. He glanced at me, clearly startled. “I have no idea. "
― Diana Gabaldon , The Fiery Cross / A Breath of Snow and Ashes / An Echo in the Bone / Written in My Own Heart's Blood (Outlander #5-8)
6
" How long has it been since you last slept with a woman, if you don’t mind my asking?” He didn’t appear to mind. He frowned a little and scratched his chest thoughtfully. “Oh … fifteen years? At least that.” He glanced at me, his expression altering to one of concern. “Oh. I do apologize.” “You do? For what?” I arched one brow. I could think of a number of things he might apologize for, but probably none of those was what he had in mind. “I am afraid I was perhaps not …” he hesitated. “Very gentlemanly.” “Oh, you weren’t,” I said, rather tartly. “But I assure you that I wasn’t being at all ladylike myself.” He looked at me, and his mouth worked a bit, as though trying to frame some response to that, but after a moment or two he shook his head and gave it up. “Besides, it wasn’t me you were making love to,” I said, “and both of us know it.” He looked up, startled, his eyes very blue. Then the shadow of a smile crossed his face, and he looked down at the quilted coverlet. “No,” he said softly. “Nor were you, I think, making love to me. Were you? "
― Diana Gabaldon , The Fiery Cross / A Breath of Snow and Ashes / An Echo in the Bone / Written in My Own Heart's Blood (Outlander #5-8)
8
" He noticed my slight shifting and rose at once himself, donning his banyan before fetching my own dressing gown—which, I saw with a sense of unease, some kindly hand had hung over a chair to warm before the fire. “Where did that come from?” I asked, nodding at the silk robe he held for me. “From your bedroom, I assume.” He frowned at me for a moment before discerning what I meant. “Oh. Mrs. Figg brought it in when she built the fire.” “Oh,” I said faintly. The thought of Mrs. Figg seeing me in Lord John’s bed—doubtless out cold, disheveled, and snoring, if not actually drooling—was hideously mortifying. For that matter, the mere fact of my being in his bed was deeply embarrassing, no matter what I had looked like. “We are married,” he pointed out, with a slight edge to his voice. “Er … yes. But …” A further thought came to me: perhaps this was not so unusual an occurrence for Mrs. Figg as I thought—had he entertained other women in his bed from time to time? “Do you sleep with women? Er … not sleep, I mean, but …” He stared at me, stopped in the act of untangling his hair. “Not willingly,” he said. He paused, then laid down his silver comb. “Is there anything else you would like to ask me,” he inquired, with exquisite politeness, “before I allow the bootboy to come in? "
― Diana Gabaldon , The Fiery Cross / A Breath of Snow and Ashes / An Echo in the Bone / Written in My Own Heart's Blood (Outlander #5-8)
9
" Claire?” he said, a question in his voice. I stopped, hand on the doorknob, feeling quite queer; he’d never called me by my name before. It took a small effort to look over my shoulder at him, but when I did, I found him smiling. “Think of the deer,” he said gently. “My dear.” I nodded, wordless, and made my escape. Only later, after I had washed—vigorously—dressed, and had a restorative cup of tea with brandy in it, did I make sense of this last remark. Its coming is a gift, he’d said of the white deer, which I accept with gratitude. "
― Diana Gabaldon , The Fiery Cross / A Breath of Snow and Ashes / An Echo in the Bone / Written in My Own Heart's Blood (Outlander #5-8)
13
" How long is some time? Fifteen years, you said?” “Oh, a good deal longer than that. Isobel—” He stopped abruptly, the smile vanishing. He hadn’t mentioned his dead wife before. “You never saw her naked?” I asked, with more than idle curiosity. He turned his face away a little, eyes cast down. “Ah … no. It wasn’t … She did not … No.” He cleared his throat, then raised his eyes, looking into mine with an honesty raw enough to make me want to look away. “I am naked to you,” he said simply, and drew back the sheet. "
― Diana Gabaldon , The Fiery Cross / A Breath of Snow and Ashes / An Echo in the Bone / Written in My Own Heart's Blood (Outlander #5-8)
17
" At the plantation,” he said, ignoring me, “there is a large open space at the rear of the house. It was a small clearing at first, and over the years I have enlarged it and finally made a lawn of it, but the edge of the clearing runs up to the trees. In the evenings, quite often, deer come out of the forest to feed at the edges of the lawn. Now and then, though, I see a particular deer. It’s white, I suppose, but it looks as though it’s made of silver. I don’t know whether it comes only in the moonlight or whether it’s only that I cannot see it save by moonlight—but it is a sight of rare beauty.” His eyes had softened, and I could see that he wasn’t looking at the plaster ceiling overhead but at the white deer, coat shining in the moonlight. "
― Diana Gabaldon , The Fiery Cross / A Breath of Snow and Ashes / An Echo in the Bone / Written in My Own Heart's Blood (Outlander #5-8)
18
" You, um, don’t … talk in bed?” I said, striving for delicacy. His mouth twitched, and he looked away. “No.” We lay in silence for a few moments, examining the ceiling. “Have you ever?” I blurted. “Have I what?” “Had a lover that you talked to.” He cut his eyes at me. “Yes. Perhaps not quite so frankly as I find myself talking to you, but, yes.” He opened his mouth as though to say or ask something further, but instead breathed in, shut his mouth firmly, and let the air out slowly through his nose. "
― Diana Gabaldon , The Fiery Cross / A Breath of Snow and Ashes / An Echo in the Bone / Written in My Own Heart's Blood (Outlander #5-8)
20
" John stood waiting, shivering, as the sound of hooves and voices went past. Who might it be? Not soldiers; there was no sound of brass, no jingling spurs or arms. The sounds faded, and Jamie turned back. He frowned, noticing for the first time that Grey was wet through, and, taking the cloak from his shoulders, wrapped it round him. The cloak was damp, too, but made of wool, and Jamie’s body heat lingered in it. Grey closed his eyes for an instant, embraced. “May I know what it is that you’ve been doing?” Grey inquired, opening them. “When?” Jamie gave him a half smile. “Just now, or since I saw ye last? "
― Diana Gabaldon , The Fiery Cross / A Breath of Snow and Ashes / An Echo in the Bone / Written in My Own Heart's Blood (Outlander #5-8)
The Fiery Cross / A Breath of Snow and Ashes / An Echo in the Bone / Written in My Own Heart's Blood (Outlander #5-8)