“Children," Johanna drawled out. "They're such a joy. When you get married and have a family of your own, you'll understand what I'm saying. You are going to get married someday, aren't you, Keith?"
"Aye, m'lady," he answered. "Next summer as a matter of fact. Bridgid MacCoy has agreed to become my wife."
"Oh."
She couldn't quite hide her disappointment. She turned her gaze down the table and settled on Michael as a possibility.
He caught her staring at him. He smiled. She nodded. "Children," she began again. "They're wonderful, aren't they, Michael?"
"If you say so, m'lady."
"Oh, I do say," she replied. "When you get married, you'll understand. You do plan to marry someday, don't you, Michael?"
"Eventually," he answered with a shrug.
"Have you anyone in mind?"
"Are you matchmaking, m'lady?" Keith asked.
"Why would you think that?"
"I'll marry Helen when I'm ready," Michael interjected. "I've told her I will, and she agreed to wait."
Johanna frowned. The possibilities were becoming a bit limited. She turned to Niall.
"Children…" she began.
"She is matchmaking," Keith announced.
It was as though he'd just shouted the alarm that they were under siege. The soldiers literally jumped from their stools. They bowed to Johanna and left the room in the space of a single minute. She didn't even have enough time to order them back into their seats.”
“Johanna sat by the fire every night and worked on her tapestry. Dumfries waited until she was settled in her chair and then draped himself across her feet. It became a ritual for Alex to squeeze himself up next to her and fall asleep during her stories about fierce warriors and fair maidens. Johanna's tales all had a unique twist, for none of the heroines she told stories about ever needed to be rescued by their knights in shining armor. More often than not, the fair maidens rescued their knights.
Gabriel couldn't take issue with his wife. She was telling Alex the truth. It was a fact that maidens could rescue mighty, arrogant warriors. Johanna had certainly rescued him from a bleak, cold existence. She'd given him a family and a home. She was his love, his joy, his companion.
She was his saving grace.”
“Do you think my husband and his soldiers will be overly upset with me?"
The priest broke into a wide grin. "I'll stand by your side when we find out," he said. "I would be honored to escort you to your husband."
The priest took hold of Johanna's arm. She didn't notice. "I expect them to be a little upset at first," she explained. "But only just a little."
"Yes," he agreed. "Tell me, lass. When was your last confession?"
"Why do you ask?"
"It's preferred to receive absolution before you meet your Maker.”
“An english baron wed to my daughter? I'll die first, I will." Johanna quit rubbing Claire's shoulder and stepped forward.
"A very rich baron," she blurted out. The laird frowned at Johanna with what she thought was indignation.
"Wealth is not an issue here," he muttered. "How rich?"
They were married an hour later.”
“She was the love of his life. “Hell.”
“A barren woman served no purpose in this kingdom. Her very reason for existing had been snatched away.”
“Signori,sono tante le vie per entrare in un castello",comincio' Johanna,la voce roca per lo sforzo di controllarsi.
"Signora",la interruppe' Keith."Ne abbiamo gia' parlato.Non siete riuscita ancora a convincervi? C'e' una porta sul retro e quella principale..."
"Stai zitto!"grido' Johanna."Mi fai venire voglia di urlare!"
"Voi state gia' urlando signora."Le fece notare un altro soldato"
Johanna fece un profondo respiro.Li avrebbe fatti ragionare,anche a costo di morire per lo sforzo.
"Vi sto dando una lezione sciocchi!Ci sono tanti modi per spellare un pesce,capite?"
"Qui non spelliamo i pesci", intervenne un soldato " li mangiamo interi!"
La Signora dei Clan”
“You're so kind, Kazuhiko. That's what I like about you."
I like you, too. I love you so much."
If he weren't so inarticulate, Kazuhiko could have said so much more. How much her expression, her gentle manner, her pure untainted soul meant to him. How important, in short, her existence was to him. But he wasn't able to put into words. He was only a third-year student in junior high, and worst yet, composition was one of his worst subjects.”
“Don't talk to me. I'm tired and grumpy and I'll probably make fun of you.”
“This "sir, yes sir" business, which would probably sound like horseshit to any civilian in his right mind, makes sense to Shaftoe and to the officers in a deep and important way. Like a lot of others, Shaftoe had trouble with military etiquette at first. He soaked up quite a bit of it growing up in a military family, but living the life was a different matter. Having now experienced all the phases of military existence except for the terminal ones (violent death, court-martial, retirement), he has come to understand the culture for what it is: a system of etiquette within which it becomes possible for groups of men to live together for years, travel to the ends of the earth, and do all kinds of incredibly weird shit without killing each other or completely losing their minds in the process. The extreme formality with which he addresses these officers carries an important subtext: your problem, sir, is deciding what you want me to do, and my problem, sir, is doing it. My gung-ho posture says that once you give the order I'm not going to bother you with any of the details--and your half of the bargain is you had better stay on your side of the line, sir, and not bother me with any of the chickenshit politics that you have to deal with for a living. The implied responsibility placed upon the officer's shoulders by the subordinate's unhesitating willingness to follow orders is a withering burden to any officer with half a brain, and Shaftoe has more than once seen seasoned noncoms reduce green lieutenants to quivering blobs simply by standing before them and agreeing, cheerfully, to carry out their orders.”
“And all the time he was enjoying his badness, hugging it to him as though it were a friend, and not caring a bit.”
“When a man kneels before a woman, it’s a gesture of chivalry. When a woman kneels before a man, it’s unseemly.”
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