An Echo in the Bone (Outlander, #7)

by Diana Gabaldon

Willie’s mouth worked, soundless with shock. He looked wildly at me, back at Jamie, back at me—and saw the truth in my face. “Who are you?” he said hoarsely, wheeling on Jamie. I saw Jamie draw himself slowly upright, ignoring the noise below. “James Fraser,” he said. His eyes were fixed on William with a burning intensity, as though to absorb every vestige of a sight he would not see again. “Ye kent me once as Alex MacKenzie. At Helwater.” William blinked, blinked again, and his gaze shifted momentarily to John. “And who—who the bloody hell am I?” he demanded, the end of the question rising in a squeak. John opened his mouth, but it was Jamie who answered. “You are a stinking Papist,” he said, very precisely, “and your baptismal name is James.” The ghost of regret crossed his face and then was gone. “It was the only name I had a right to give ye,” he said quietly, eyes on his son. “I’m sorry.”