I Thought I Could Make Out Jamie's

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.

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

He Leaned Close, Rubbing His Bearded Cheek Against My Ear. 'and How About A Sweet Kiss, Now, For The Brave Lads Of The Clan Mackenzie? Tulach Ard!' Erin Go Bragh,' I Said Rudely, And Pushed With All My Strength.

A Cold Supper, Were You Thinking? I Asked Dubiously. I Was Not, He Said Firmly, I Mean To Light A Roaring Fire In The Kitchen Hearth, Fry Up A Dozen Eggs In Butter, And Eat Them All, Then Lay Ye Down On The Hearth Rug And Roger Ye 'till You - Is That All Right? He Inquired, Noticing My Look. 'til I What? I Asked Fascinated By His Description Of The Evening's Program. 'til Ye Burst Into Flame And Take Me With Ye, I Suppose, He Said, And Stooping, Swooped Me Up Into His Arms And Carried Me Across The Darkened Threshold.

It Wasn't A Thing I Had Consciously Missed, But Having It Now Reminded Me Of The Joy Of It; That Drowsy Intimacy In Which A Man's Body Is Accessible To You As Your Own, The Strange Shapes And Textures Of It Like A Sudden Extension Of Your Own Limbs.