A Breath of Snow and Ashes (Outlander, #6)

by Diana Gabaldon

“Ye canna be so close to another,” he said finally. “To be within each other, to smell their sweat, and rub the hairs of your body with theirs and see nothing of their soul.

“Did ye ken, Sassenach, that some folk believe the last person to lie in a graveyard becomes its guardian? He must stand on guard until the next person dies and comes to take his place—only then can he rest.”

It doesn’t matter. You will do it anyway.

“All I want,” she said softly to the dark, “is for you to love me. Not because of what I can do or what I look like, or because I love you—just because I am.”

the gold of the autumn leaves had faded into ash, and white mist was curling through the dark wet trunks of the pines.

“I canna look at ye asleep without wanting to wake ye, Sassenach.” His hand cupped my breast, gently now. “I suppose I find myself lonely without ye.”

“For your sake, I will continue—though for mine alone … I would not.”