“That would buy us a little time, at least.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “I like the way ye say ‘us,’ Sassenach.” I flushed a little. “I’m sorry. I know it’s you that has to do the dirty work. But—” “I wasna joking, Sassenach,” he said softly, and smiled at me. “If I get torn limb from limb doin’ this, who’s going to stitch me back together, if not you?”
