I Don't Plot The Books Out Ahead

I Had Kissed My Share Of Men, Particularly During The War Years, When Flirtation And Instant Romance Were The Light-minded Companions Of Death And Uncertainty. Jamie, Thought, Was Something Different. His Extreme Gentleness Was In No Way Tentative; Rather It Was A Promise Of Power Known And Held In Leash; A Challenge And A Provocation The More Remarkable For Its Lack Of Demand. I Am Yours, It Said. And If You Will Have Me, Then.

There Was A Feeling, Not Sudden, But Complete, As Though I Had Been Given A Small Object To Hold Unseen In My Hands. Precious As Opal, Smooth As Jade, Weighty As A River Stone, More Fragile Than A Bird's Egg. Infinitely Still, Live As The Root Of Creation. Not A Gift, But A Trust. Fiercely To Cherish, Softly To Guard. The Words Spoke Themselves And Disappeared Into The Groined Shadows Of The Roof.

Lying On The Floor, With The Carved Panels Of The Ceiling Flickering Dimly Above, 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 Eighteenth-century Men.

Ye Werena The First Lass I Kissed," He Said Softly. "but I Swear You'll Be The Last.

I Didn't Say You Shouldn't Worry, Do You Think I Don't Worry? But No, You Probably Can't Do Anything About Me.' 'well, Maybe No, Sassenach, And Maybe So. But I've Lived A Long Enough Time Now To Think It Maybe Doesna Matter So Much-- So Long As I Can Love You.' -claire & Jamie Fraser