"When I woke in the dark under that tree on the road to Leoch, with you sitting on my chest, cursing me for bleeding to death, I said to myself ‘Jamie Fraser, for all ye canna see what she looks like, and for all she weighs as much as a good draft horse, this is the woman."
I started toward him, and he backed away, talking rapidly. “I said to myself, “She’s mended ye twice in as many hours, me lad; life amongst the MacKenzies being what it is, it might be as well to wed a woman as can stanch a wound and set broken bones.’ And I said to myself ‘Jamie, lad, if her touch feels so bonny on your collarbone, imagine what it might feel like lower down…’”
He dodged around a chair. “Of Course, I thought it might ha’ just been the effects of spending four months in a monastery, without benefit of female companionship, but then that ride through the dark together-” he paused to sigh theatrically, neatly evading my grab at his sleeve- “with that lovely broad arse wedged between my thighs”-he ducked a blow aimed at his left ear and sidestepped, getting a low table between us-“and that rock-solid head thumping me in the chest”-a small metal ornament bounce off his own head and went clanging to the floor-“I said to myself…”
He was laughing so hard at this point that he had to gasp for breath between phrases. “Jamie… I said… for all she’s a Sassenach bitch… with a tongue like an adder’s… with a bum like that… what does it matter if she’s a f-face like a sh-sh-sheep?”