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Book: The Scottish Prisoner
Quotes of Book: The Scottish Prisoner

Diana Gabaldon _ The Scottish Prisoner
You asked me if I thought it was worth it. I don't know. But it is my duty, regardless.
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Diana Gabaldon _ The Scottish Prisoner
Grey shook his head and, wheezing gently, one hand to his bruised ribs, got awkwardly to his feet and hobbled to the wing chair. "You could … have helped," he said to Fraser. "Ye managed brawly on your own," Fraser assured him gravely, and to his mortification, Grey found that this word of praise gratified him exceedingly.
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Diana Gabaldon _ The Scottish Prisoner
He could hear Jamie's breath, or thought he could-it seemed part of the soft wind that touched his face. He could smell Jamie, smell the musk of his body, the dried sweat and dust in his clothes, and felt suddenly wolflike and feral, longing changed to outright hunger. He wanted. Master me, he thought, breathing deep, or shall I your master be?
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Diana Gabaldon _ The Scottish Prisoner
John felt the night as something wild creeping upon him, the force of spring itself rising from the ground into his feet, his legs, bursting through his body 'til the blood throbbed in his fingers, pulsed in his chest. Perhaps it was freedom, the exhilaration of their escape. Perhaps the excitement of a hunt by night, adventure and danger before them. Or the knowledge that he was an outlaw-with pursuit and danger certainly behind him.
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Diana Gabaldon _ The Scottish Prisoner
Three days before his scheduled departure, he rose in the morning with the conviction that he must speak with Fraser, somehow. Not in the stiff manner of an interview between paroled prisoner and officer of the Crown-simply a few words, as man to man. If he could have that, he could go back to London with an easy heart, knowing that sometime, somewhere, there was the possibility that they might be friends again, even if that time and place could not be here and now.
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Diana Gabaldon _ The Scottish Prisoner
They had had no opportunity to speak, though-and he could not seem to invent a pretext, let alone think what he might say if he found one. He felt amazingly self-conscious, like a boy unable to say anything to an attractive girl. He'd be blushing, next thing, he thought, disgusted with himself.
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Diana Gabaldon _ The Scottish Prisoner
In this instance, the point of showing you the king's funeral was primarily that it provided Lord John with his moment of enlightenment regarding Jamie's motive for remaining at Helwater. Secondarily, it shows a historical turning point that a} anchors the reader in time, b} metaphorically underlines the conclusion of the Grey brothers' quest, c} marks a turning point in Lord John's relationship with Jamie Fraser, and d} opens the door to a new phase of both personal and public history-for George III {who was the grandson, not the son, of George II} is, of course, the king from whom the American colonies revolted, and we see in the later books of the Outlander series just how that affects the lives of Lord John, Jamie Fraser, and William.
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Diana Gabaldon _ The Scottish Prisoner
I wouldna tell ye if I did," he said, just as quietly. "But I don't." "Would you warn him-if you could?" Grey asked. He oughtn't, but was possessed by curiosity. "I would," Fraser replied without hesitation. He turned round now and looked down at Grey, expressionless. "He was once my friend." So was I, Grey thought, and took more brandy. Am I now again? But not even the most exigent curiosity would make him ask.
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Diana Gabaldon _ The Scottish Prisoner
He hadn't seen-or heard from-Grey since that day. Had the man been nursing a grudge all this time and finally decided to put paid to Jamie Fraser's account, once and for all? It was the most likely explanation-and unforgivable things had been said on both sides. Worse, both of them had meant the things they said, and both of them knew it. No excuse of hot blood speaking-though, in all justice, his own blood had boiled, and …
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Diana Gabaldon _ The Scottish Prisoner
Jamie Fraser looked across the field to where Twelvetrees stood with his two companions, then looked soberly down at Grey. "He must not live. Ye may trust me to see to that." "If he kills me, you mean," Grey said. The electricity that ran in little jolts through his veins had settled now to a fine constant hum. He could hear his heartbeat, thumping in his ears, fast and strong. "I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Fraser." To his astonishment, Fraser smiled at him. "It will be my pleasure to avenge ye, my lord. If necessary." "Call me John," he blurted. "Please." The Scot's face went blank with his own astonishment. He cast down his eyes for a moment, thinking. Then he put a hand solidly on Grey's shoulder and said something softly in the Gaelic, but in the midst of the odd, sibilant words, Grey thought he heard his father's name. Iain mac Gerard … was that him? The hand lifted, leaving the feel of its weight behind. "What-" he said, but Fraser interrupted him. "It is the blessing for a warrior going out. The blessing of Michael of the Red Domain." His eyes met Grey's squarely, a darker blue than the dawning sky. "May the grace of Michael Archangel strengthen your arm … John.
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Diana Gabaldon _ The Scottish Prisoner
He thought of that now and wondered briefly just what Jamie Fraser would do, if made the recipient of some particularly florid sentiment of a personal nature, with Grey safely out of neck-breaking range. The thought made him grin.
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Diana Gabaldon _ The Scottish Prisoner
But do you think he foresaw that Twelvetrees would call him out? Well, yes, I suppose he did," Hal answered himself. "Twelvetrees couldn't do otherwise. But does Fraser want this duel?" Grey saw what his brother was getting at and shook his head. "You mean that we might be doing him a favor by preventing his fighting. No." He smiled affectionately at his brother and put down his cup. "It's simple, Hal. Put yourself in his place, and think what you'd do. He may not be an Englishman, but his honor is equal to yours, and so is his determination. I could not pay him a greater compliment." "Hmmph," said Hal, and flushed a little. "Well. Had you better take him to the salle des armes tomorrow, then? Give him a bit of practice before he meets Twelvetrees? Supposing he does choose swords." "I don't think there will be time." The feeling of calm was spreading; he felt almost as though he floated in the warm light of fire and candles, as though it bore him up. Hal was staring at him suspiciously. "What do you mean by that?" "I thought it out this afternoon, and reached the same conclusions that we have just come to. Then I sent a note to Edward Twelvetrees, demanding satisfaction for his insult to me at the club." Hal's jaw dropped. "You … what?" Grey reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out the crumpled note. "And he's replied. Six o'clock tomorrow morning, in the gardens behind Lambeth Palace. Sabers. Odd, that. I should have thought he'd be a rapier man.
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