John stood waiting, shivering, as the sound of hooves and voices went past. Who might it be? Not soldiers; there was no sound of brass, no jingling spurs or arms. The sounds faded, and Jamie turned back. He frowned, noticing for the first time that Grey was wet through, and, taking the cloak from his shoulders, wrapped it round him. The cloak was damp, too, but made of wool, and Jamie's body heat lingered in it. Grey closed his eyes for an instant, embraced. "May I know what it is that you've been doing?" Grey inquired, opening them. "When?" Jamie gave him a half smile. "Just now, or since I saw ye last?
( Diana Gabaldon )
[ The Fiery Cross, A Breath of ]
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