More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Read between
November 23 - December 10, 2021
“Jamie…Fraser?”
Something about her remembering Jamie is giving me Mary MacNab feelings🙃
The house was small and gray and beaten, its hearth cold and the fire long dead. And yet it had sheltered a family, had witnessed a meeting of the Continental generals, had given Uncle Jamie refuge when he needed it. “Bidh failbh ann a sith,” he said quietly to the house. “Go back to the earth in peace. You have done well.”
He tied up the horse a safe distance from the edge, then untied Fredericks and hauled him off, dropping him to the ground with a thud like a killed buffalo.
This reminds me of Jamie slinging Lionel Brown's corpse to the floor in 512
“Does thee believe in angels, Rachel?” Silvia asked. Her voice was low and slightly distorted because of her swollen lip. “If thee means Ian or Jamie, they would firmly abjure any such description,” Rachel said, smiling reassuringly and trying not to look away from the wide bruise that cut across Silvia’s face and made her eyes look strangely disconnected from the rest of her features. “But having known them both for some time, I do think God occasionally finds some use for them.”
“Five years?” the short one blurted. She scrambled to her feet, and at first he thought she meant to flee, but she just wanted a closer look at him. She looked him over with as much frankness as he’d displayed with her friend, but with an air of fascination as well. “What on earth can a whore do that takes five years to learn?” She sounded as though she truly wanted to find out, and he looked at her with more interest. She might think he was a pervert, but she was game, and he was that wee bit shocked to find it aroused him more than Meg’s nipples. He cleared his throat.
“I suppose this is sinfully wasteful, but…” “Ask the squirrels if they think so,” Rachel advised, nodding toward one of these creatures, who had rushed down the trunk of the tree within seconds of the first impact and was now on the ground, stuffing itself with the fragments of their bombardment. Silvia looked, then glanced around. At least a dozen more were bounding across the grass, tails bushy with purpose.
“Reckon it would have been six—maybe seven—years ago. Time flies when you’re havin’ fun, or so they say.”
“Mind, I wasn’t but two years older than Jane…” Bat-bat. “Mrs. Abbott wouldn’t’ve bothered with them, save they were pretty, both of ’em, and Jane was just about old enough to…um…start.” Ian was counting back; six years ago, Jane would have been about the age Fanny was now. Old enough…
“They dinna really have a word for that,” Ian said. “And if they dinna have a word for something, it’s no important.”
And I rather think that killing the White Sow might be bad luck.”
“I think I should like to sleep in a flower wi’ you, Sassenach, holding your feet.”
“According to your damned first husband, that’s when the Americans will lift their siege on Savannah.”
“No,” he said, in a tone of mingled pride and regret. “These are the Jamie Fraser Special—the last three bottles. There are two more small kegs in the cave, and maybe one or two more back in the rocks—but that’s the end, until I can brew again.” “Oh, dear.” The malting shed had been destroyed by the gang that had attacked the Ridge, and the thought of it made my stomach knot. The still itself had been damaged, too, but Jamie had been putting it in order, in the brief interstices of house building. “And then it still needs to be aged.” “Ach, dinna fash,” he said, and picking up one of the
...more
“Do you happen to remember Roger telling me he’d been visiting up there and talked to her and she told him that when she, er, visited the privy, her…womb…fell out into her hand?” He looked up at me, startled. Then his eyes returned to the thing in my hand. “It’s, um, called a pessary. If you insert it into the—” “Stop right there, Sassenach.” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, lips pursed. “It’s really beautiful,” I assured him. “And it will be perfect. It’s just—I thought—maybe having your mark on it would make her feel…self-conscious?” It had also occurred to me that Auld Mam,
...more
💀😂
“Oh,” said Jenny, raising a brow in interest. “So that’s it, is it? If ye can support a gaggle o’ women and children, that proves ye must have a wee bit o’ coin put away in your mattress?”
“I shouldna imagine we’ll be talkin’ to her,” she said to Rachel under her breath as they emerged into the tiny parlor. “Or I’d be askin’ him how to say, ‘Clear off, ye brazen-faced trollop,’ in Mohawk. Though that’s maybe no just polite…” “Possibly not,” Rachel said, feeling her spirit lighten a little. “If you find out, though, do tell me. Just in case.” Jenny shot her a sideways look. “And you a Friend,” she said in mock disapproval. “Though I suppose having the light o’ Christ inside her doesna necessarily keep a woman from bein’ a brazen-faced trollop…” She squeezed Rachel’s wrist with
...more
And Jenny Murray wouldn’t curtsy to the King of England, let alone a man she thinks is a Royalist assassin, Rachel thought, but kept her face pleasantly blank. Catherine looked dubiously at Jenny, who could look inscrutable when she cared to, but wasn’t doing it at the moment.
You not only sit down to dinner with Jamie Fraser, you love and respect him, her inner light pointed out. Has he not done the same things?
Her amusement vanished in the next instant when the Sachem took Jenny’s hand in his and said, quite casually, “He is still with you—your husband. He says to tell you that he walks upon two legs.”
Both voices together said, in tones of accusation, “What is thee doing here?”
They were in the guest chamber Catherine had given them when Brant had delivered Wakyo’teyehsnonhsa’s message,
Huh?
THIS EXCHANGE DISTURBED Ian, but he hadn’t time to do more than give the Sachem a brief “trouble my mother and I’ll gut ye like a fish” look on his way to the barn. His mother caught the look and appeared to think it funny, though the Sachem kept a decently straight face.
following a glutton.
So apparently this is another word for wolverine? I had no idea what animal it was before looking it up - never heard that!! I thought Ian's friend Glutton just liked to eat😉
“Neither my wife nor my mother would see any bairn starve,” he assured her, though his imagination was unequal to envisioning what either one was going to say.
“Wake up!” Tòtis said, pushing the lid off and leaning into the basket. A soft thumping came from the depths, and the long creaking noise of a yawn. And then Tòtis stood up with a large, gray, furry puppy in his arms and a grin on his face, missing two teeth.
this might be one too much for the inner light.
“His name is Hunter,” she said. “Oh,” Rachel said, and her smile blossomed slowly through the vines.
“Does it help, to curse aloud?” she said at last.
“And you’ll be here and safely inside, right?” She raised her eyebrows at him, and he smiled and took her hand. “I will,” he said, and kissed it.
Sure Roger
Did Jamie know of the talk about him? Roger remembered the moment’s hesitation when Jamie had handed him the letter. Perhaps he did, then.
Francis Marion was what Jamie would call a wee man,
“It was written in his wife’s blood,” Roger said, “but yes.”
“Tell him that. He should keep his distance from the army. They will use his militia, certainly, they need every man they can get. But the risk to him—him, personally—is very great. If it had not been for Lee’s trial and La Fayette’s good word, Fraser would have been court-martialed himself after Monmouth; perhaps even hanged.”
Remind me: What’s your husband’s name and what does he look like?”
Hahaha!
picked the wounded officer up bodily, carrying him away.
Oh, now the Polish words make sense, the Skyway... I vaguely thought that the uniform was important!
to help bury the dead.
It's almost always Roger in situations he's not ready for - at least only Jamie and Ian were at Ticonderoga and Monmouth😉
Lord John had turned up in the afternoon, stained with powder smoke but cheerful,
By the cannons again? John, learn your lesson too, please!
Hal has sent an official inquiry to General Lincoln.
I love Hal, cranky as he is!
She had had nearly two weeks of dealing with Angelina, though, and now set a vase of wax flowers on the table, with firm instructions that Angelina should fix her eyes upon this and count the petals. She then turned over a two-minute sandglass and urged her subject not to speak or move until the glass ran out.
Moved by impulse, she turned the page of her sketchbook and tried to capture a glimpse of her father’s face—just a line or two in profile, the straight long nose and the strong brow. And the small curved line that suggested his smile, hidden in the corner of his mouth.
uncovering the unfinished portrait of Jane, set it on the table, where it would catch the morning light.
I'm nervous. Who is going to see it and recognize her? An official visitor of Mr Brumby's??
“R oo wrkg n m mth?” Mrs. Brumby said, moving her lips as little as possible, just in case. “No, you can talk,” Brianna assured her, suppressing a smile. “Don’t move your hands, though.”
General Pulaski.
!!! The Skyway!
There was something in New York named after him, wasn’t there? And now—
The skyway is in NJ and the parade for Pulaski Day is in NYC. Also maybe a bridge in NY??
“I wish to speak with Mrs. MacKenzie,” a deep male voice said from somewhere down the corridor. “My friend wishes to engage her for a portrait. Lord John Grey recommended that we call upon her—a mutual acquaintance. Please inform her that I have brought a letter of introduction, and—”
Oh who's this now??
gentleman—his voice was English, educated—was
Oh, Willie?! He's all this gathering, with a continental soldier, needs😂
the taller figures moved, turning, and she saw in outline the same long, straight nose, the same high brow that her fingers had drawn so recently.
Yep!!!
