“You are new here, so I will explain. In this land, nobility comes not from one’s fathers or a title or from the land one owns, but from one’s actions.” His voice was hard-edged, and his words seemed harsh to her. “The MacKinnon brothers are the highest nobility to those who live on the frontier—true warriors, men who know how to fight and survive, men who put the lives of others before their own. Your family’s wealth, your title, your virtue—they mean nothing out here. They won’t fill your belly, and they won’t keep you alive. What matters most right now is your survival. (Joseph to Lady Sarah)”
“Och, Sarah, how shall I call augh’ beautiful again unless it be the sight of you?”
“I've bled for you. I've killed for you. I've held you in my arms and done my best to make love to you. I'd give my life to protect you. Now I sit beside you, askin' you to trust me.”
“Though this marriage is a sham, what we share tonight will be real, my lady. I said I'd treat you wi' the same respect I'd show my own true bride, and I meant it. I'd no' be able to call myself a Scotsman if I let you walk across this threshold.”
“I...I've never met a man like you."
He chuckled, a broad grin on his face. "Of that, my lady, I'm certain.”
“Joseph stood, his gaze traveling over Connor's clean-shaven face and hairless chest, his lips curving in a grin. "What's this? The Cub is not so furry.”
“_I_ boil it." Joseph entered last, closing the door behind them. "Last time, you burnt it."
Connor glared at Joseph. "We were attacked! What would you have me tell the Abenaki? 'I cannae fight just now. I'm makin' candy. Would you like a wee taste?”
“I do not know her as you do, but I have shared each step of this journey with her, watched her fight for her life, and held her each night while she slept. I cannot help but care for her."
And suddenly Connor was glad Joseph had chosen to sleep in the loft.”
“Forget you are a man. Loose the animal you hide inside.”
“Before the war, a white man named Jonathan Edwards came to Stockbridge to teach my people about sin, but I doubt very much he could see sin in this. You defended yourself against a man who would otherwise have killed you and your friends. Perhaps you feel no regret because your spirit knows you did what was right.”
“Though his countenance was solemn, there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Major MacKinnon, won't you join us?"
"But, my lord, he is clad in outlawed rebel attire. The Dress Act expressly forbids--"
"I am not blind, Colonel, and I am familiar with our laws."
Sarah fought back a smile.
Colonel Haviland lowered his voice, leaned toward Uncle William. "He was invited to pay respects to your niece, my lord, and he has the gall to--"
"I _am_ payin' my respects to the lass!" Connor's deep voice filled the room, cutting Colonel Haviland off altogether.”
“[Connor to Major Wentworth, grandson of King George]
"My fathers were lairds in the Highlands when yours were still farmin' kale back in Germany!”
“[Connor, prepared to sacrifice himself to save Sarah]
God, I pray, give me the strength to live the next hour well.”
“[Iain, addressing the Rangers at the end of the French & Indian war]
"Never has the world see a war as this one, but you turned the tide of it, spillin' your blood to keep frontier families safe. Years from now, people will remember the Rangers, the sacrifices you made, the battles you fought, the victories you won. I pray that peace will follow you all your days.”
“Making love with you is even more wonderful than making music."
He drew her closer. "Och, Sarah, you _are_ my music.”
“I am _not_ a woman from your village."
His eyes narrowed. "No, you are not, for if you were, you would be grateful for the better fate Connor has won for you with his blood. Rather than thinking only of yourself, you would be beside him now, tending his hurts.”
“Killy arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "Don't be thinkin' you can deceive this old man. I've been makin' a fool of myself over women since before you were born.”
“Shocked at this rebuke, Sarah took a step backward. “But I…I am the daughter of a marquess. I cannot marry either—”
“You are new here, so I will explain. In this land, nobility comes not from one’s fathers or a title or from the land one owns, but from one’s actions.” His voice was hard-edged, and his words seemed harsh to her. “The MacKinnon brothers are the highest nobility to those who live on the frontier—true warriors, men who know how to fight and survive, men who put the lives of others before their own. Your family’s wealth, your title, your virtue—they mean nothing out here. They won’t fill your belly, and they won’t keep you alive. What matters most right now is your survival.”
“Annie smiled. “The MacKinnon men are very protective of their women.”
“But while admiring my neighbour, I don't think I shall ever try to follow in her steps, my talents not being of the energetic and organising variety, but rather of that order which makes their owner almost lamentably prone to take up a volume of poetry and wander out to where the kingcups grow, and, sitting on a willow trunk beside a little stream, forget the very existence of everything but green pastures and still waters, and the glad blowing of the wind across the joyous fields.”
“I had worried that he might think of me differently, once he learned about my new powers. That the thought of being accidentally roasted alive if I got angry with him might send him running back to the palace.
I shouldn’t have bothered. Kiernan’s tongue was poking between his lips. I had seen that look a hundred times, usually just before a stunt that would have him, or both of us, in trouble. “Magic,” he murmured. “You, a wizard. A dangerous one.” His eyes swept over me, then landed on my face. “Do you have any idea how much fun this could be?”
“Pessimism is not good for the soul."
"I sold my soul years ago."
"To whom?"
"The bitch goddess Success. She cut town before paying off.”
“When you pray, God reveals anything in your personality that is resistant to His order of things.”
“Between you and me,
the words,
like mortar,
separating, holding together
those pieces of the structure ourselves.
To say them,
to cast their shadows on the page,
is the act of binding mutual passions,
is cognizance, yourself/myself,
of our sameness under skin;
it rears possible cathedrals
indicating infinity with steeply-high styli.
For when tomorrow comes it is today,
and if it is not the drop
that is eternity
glistening at the pen’s point,
then the ink of our voices
surrounds like an always night,
and mortar marks the limit of our cells.”
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