From Outlander - by Diana Gabaldon “And you, my Sassenach? What were you born for? To be lady of a manor, or to sleep in the fields like a gypsy? To be a healer, or a don’s wife, or an outlaw’s lady?” “I was born for you,” I said simply, and held out my arms to him. “Ye know,” he observed, letting go at last, “you’ve never said it.” “Neither have you.” “I have. The day after we came. I said I wanted you more than anything.” “And I said that loving and wanting weren’t necessarily the same thing,” I countered. He laughed. “Perhaps you’re right, Sassenach.” He smoothed the hair from my face and kissed my brow. “I wanted ye from the first I saw ye—but I loved ye when you wept in my arms and let me comfort you, that first time at Leoch.” The sun sank below the line of black pines, and the first stars of the evening came out. It was mid-November, and the evening air was cold, though the days still kept fine. Standing on the opposite side of the fence, Jamie bent his head, putting his forehead against mine. “You first.” “No, you.” “Why?” “I’m afraid if I start I shall never stop.” He cast a glance at the horizon, where the sickle moon hung low and rising. “It’s nearly winter, and the nights are long, mo duinne.” He leaned across the fence, reaching, and I stepped into his arms, feeling the heat of his body and the beat of his heart. “I love you.
Posted on: Wed, 05 Nov 2014 16:15:51 +0000
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