Jenny Wells

“You are blood of my blood,” he said softly, “and bone of my bone. I claim thee as my son before all men, from this day forever.” He looked up at Jamie, challenging. After a long moment, Jamie gave the slightest nod of acknowledgment, and stepped back, letting his hand fall from Brianna’s shoulder. Roger”
― Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn

“The flame of Brianna’s head moved slightly, looking from one to the other, and I saw what she saw; the echo of Jamie’s dangerous stillness in Roger. It was both unexpected and shocking; I had never seen any resemblance between them at all—and yet at the moment they might have been day and dark, images of fire and night, each mirroring the other. MacKenzie,”
― Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn

“An unaccustomed weed of jealousy sprang up in Jamie’s heart, stinging like nettles. He stamped firmly on it; he was fortunate indeed to know that his son enjoyed a loving relationship with his stepfather. There, that was the weed stamped out. The stamping, though, seemed to have left a small bruised spot on his heart; he could feel it when he breathed.”
― Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn

“Is it true—that I won’t forget?” He paused for a moment, hand on her hair. “Aye, that’s true,” he said softly. “But it’s true, too, that it willna matter after a time.”
― Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn