When I'd lost him the first time, before Culloden, I'd remembered every moment of our last night together. Tiny things would come back to me through the years: the taste of salt on his temple and the curve of his skull as I cupped his head; the soft fine hair at the base of his neck, thick and damp in my fingers... the sudden, magical well of his blood in dawning light when I'd cut his hand and marked him forever as my own. Those things kept him by me.
( Diana Gabaldon )
[ Written in My Own Heart's ]
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