Brianna was his blood, and his flesh as well. An unspoken promise kept to his own parents; his gift to Claire, and hers to him. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering about Frank Randall. And what had Randall thought, holding the child of another man-and a man he had no cause to love? Perhaps Randall had been the better man, come to that-to harbor a child for her mother's sake, and not his own; to search her face with joy only in its beauty, and not because he saw himself reflected there. He felt vaguely ashamed, and struck down with greater force to exorcise the feeling. His
( Diana Gabaldon )
[ Drums of Autumn ]
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