My own Soul

The who­le Sce­ne:

He loo­ked up the slo­pe to the ter­race, whe­re tho­se not dan­cing strol­led to and fro, coo­ling off bet­ween dan­ces, sip­ping wine and flir­ting behind fans. He sig­hed nostalgically.“Aye, a ver­ra pret­ty lass, Anna­li­se de Maril­lac. Grace­ful as the wind, and so small that ye wan­ted to tuck her insi­de your shirt and car­ry her like a kitten.”I was silent, lis­ten­ing to the faint music from the open doors above, as I con­tem­pla­ted the gle­a­ming satin slip­per that enca­sed my size-nine foot.After a moment, Jamie beca­me awa­re of my silence.“What is it, Sas­se­nach?” he asked, lay­ing a hand on my arm.“Oh, not­hing,” I said with a sigh. “Only thin­king that I rather doubt anyo­ne will ever descri­be me as ‘grace­ful as the wind.’ ”“Ah.” His head was half-tur­ned, the long, strai­ght nose and firm chin light­ed from behind by the glow of the nea­rest lan­tern. I could see the half-smi­le on his lips as he tur­ned back toward me.“Well, I’ll tell ye, Sas­se­nach, ‘grace­ful’ is pos­si­b­ly not the first word that springs to mind at thought of you.” He slip­ped an arm behind me, one hand lar­ge and warm around my silk-clad shoulder.“But I talk to you as I talk to my own soul,” he said, tur­ning me to face him. He reached up and cup­ped my cheek, fin­gers light on my temple.“And, Sas­se­nach,” he whis­pe­red, “your face is my heart.”It was the shif­ting of the wind, several minu­tes later, that par­ted us at last with a fine spray from the foun­tain. We bro­ke apart and rose has­ti­ly, laug­hing at the sud­den chill of the water. Jamie incli­ned his head inqui­rin­gly toward the ter­race, and I took his arm, nodding.“So,” I obser­ved, as we made our way slow­ly up the wide steps to the ball­room, “you’ve learnt a bit more about women now, I see.”He laug­hed, low and deep, tigh­ten­ing his grasp on my waist.“The most important thing I’ve lear­ned about women, Sas­se­nach, is which one to choo­se.” He step­ped away, bowing to me, and ges­tu­ring through the open doors to the bril­li­ant sce­ne insi­de. “May I have this dance, mila­dy?”


All rights for the Pic­tures of Jamie and Claire go to the right­ful owner Starz/​TV Guide Magazine
Excer­pt and Quo­te by Diana Gabal­don from “Dragonfly in Amber“
I own not­hing but the editing

Heike Ginger Ba Written by:

|Human|Woman|Mother|Wife|Friend| Photographer| Blogger| |TV-Junkie|Photoshop-Beginner|Art-Lover|Cologne-based|Outlander-addict |Sherlockian |TWD-devoted

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