If Ye Loved Him, He Must Ha'

Jamie," I Said, "how, Exactly, Do You Decide Whether You're Drunk?" Aroused By My Voice, He Swayed Alarmingly To One Side, But Caught Himself On The Edge Of The Mantelpiece. His Eyes Drifted Around The Room, Then Fixed On My Face. For An Instant, They Blazed Clear And Pellucid With Intelligence. "och, Easy, Sassenach, If Ye Can Stand Up, You're Not Drunk." He Let Go Of The Mantelpiece, Took A Step Toward Me, And Crumpled Slowly Onto The Hearth, Eyes Blank, And A Wide, Sweet Smile On His Dreaming Face.

...well, If Women's Work Was Never Done, Why Trouble About How Much Of It Wasn't Being Accomplished At Any Given Moment?

I Was Crying And Laughing, Snuffing Tears And Blood, Bumping At Him With My Bound Hands, Trying Awkwardly To Thrust Them At Him So That He Could Cut The Rope. He Quit Grappling, And Clutched Me So Hard Against Him That I Yelped In Pain As My Face Was Pressed Against His Plaid. He Was Saying Something Else, Urgently, But I Couldn’t Manage To Translate It. Energy Pulsed Through Him, Hot And Violent, Like The Current In A Live Wire, And I Vaguely Realized That He Was Still Almost Berserk; He Had No English.

If I Die Before I Say 'i Love You' It's Because I Didn't Have The Time.

I Wept Bitterly, Surrendering Momentarily To My Fear And Heartbroken Confusion, But Slowly I Began To Quiet A Bit, As Jamie Stroked My Neck And Back, Offering Me The Comfort Of His Broad, Warm Chest. My Sobs Lessened And I Began To Calm Myself, Leaning Tiredly Into The Curve Of His Shoulder. No Wonder He Was So Good With Horses, I Thought Blearily, Feeling His Fingers Rubbing Gently Behind My Ears, Listening To The Soothing, Incomprehensible Speech. If I Were A Horse, I'd Let Him Ride Me Anywhere.