His mouth tightened up and he says, ‘I thought this was the young man who only a week past was shouting that he wasn’t afraid to die. Surely a man who’s not afraid to die isn’t afraid of a few lashes?’ and he gives Jamie a poke in the belly wi’ the handle of the whip. “Jamie met Randall’s eye straight on then, and said, ‘No, but I’m afraid I’ll freeze stiff before ye’re done talking.
He said the truth is the truth, and people should take responsibility for their own actions, which is right.
I’m none so brave as I was before, ken?” he said very softly. “Not brave enough to live without ye anymore.
Idleness would have seemed not only a sign of moral decay, but an affront to the natural order of things.
Ye ken how to pick a good lass, MacKenzie? Start at the bottom and work your way up!
If you find him,” she whispered, “when you find my father – give him this.” She bent and kissed me, fiercely, gently, then straightened and turned me toward the stone. “Go, Mama,” she said, breathless. “I love you. Go!
Shell shock, they said in the First World War. Battle fatigue, in the Second. It’s what happens when you live through things you shouldn’t have been able to live through and can’t reconcile that knowledge with the fact that you did.
Faith is as powerful a force as science,” he concluded, voice soft in the darkness, “but far more dangerous.
The thing was, some men needed killing. The Church didn’t admit that, save it was war. The Mohawk understood it fine. So did Uncle Jamie.
How to tell her in words, then, what he had learned himself by pain and grace? That only by forgiveness could she forget – and that forgiveness was not a single act, but a matter of constant practice.
He had changed, of course, but the change was subtle; as though he had been put into an oven and baked to a hard finish. He looked as though both muscle and skin had drawn in just a bit, grown closer to the bone, so he was more tightly knit; he had never seemed gawky, but the last hint of boyish looseness had vanished.
Had it really happened, that memory? Or was it only his desire that now and then brought her so vividly to life, in snatched moments that left him desperate with longing but strangely comforted, as though she had in fact touched him briefly?
Scots have long memories, and they’re not the most forgiving of people. There’s a clan stone out there with the name of MacKenzie carved on it, and a good many of my relatives under it. I don’t feel quite so personal about it as some, but I haven’t forgotten either. – Roger MacKenzie Wakefield.
To stand against a crowd would take something more than ordinary courage; something that went beyond human instinct. And I feared I did not have it, and fearing, was ashamed.
We dangled our feet in the water, moving from shade to sun and back to shade as we grew too warm, talking of this and that and not much of anything, both aware of each other’s smallest movement, both content to wait until chance should bring us to that moment when a glance should linger, and a touch should signal more.
A man should pay tribute to your body,” he said softly... “For you are beautiful, and that is your right.
Something wrong with short men, is there?” Roger inquired. “They tend to turn mean if they don’t get their way,” Claire answered. “Like small yapping dogs. Cute and fluffy, but cross them and you’re likely to get a nasty nip in the ankle.
His head bowed and his lips fastened softly on my nipple. I groaned, feeling the half-painful prickle of the milk rushing through the tiny ducts. I put a hand behind his head, and pressed him slightly closer. “Harder,” I whispered.
In bed,” she said calmly. “I want you to come to bed with me.
Ute McGillivray looked like a Valkyrie on a starchy diet;.