The Scottish Prisoner - Diana Gabaldon [198]
Judy Lowstuter, Judie Rousselle, and the Ladies of Lallybroch, for the bench in the eighteenth-century walled garden at Culloden House, kindly dedicated to me and my books …
Allan Scott-Douglas, Ewen Dougan, and Louise Lewis for various Scots idioms, and for the correct spelling of “tattie” …
Betsy (“Betty”) Mitchell, Bedelia, Eldon Garlock, Karen Henry (“Keren-happuch”), and Guero the mule (aka “Whitey”)—for the use of their names, though I hasten to add that with the exception of Guero, none of the above has anything in common with the characters bearing those names …
Homer and JJ, for observations on dachshund puppies …
and
Danny Baror and Russell Galen—better agents, no one’s ever had.
By Diana Gabaldon
(in chronological order)
Outlander
Dragonfly in Amber
Voyager
Drums of Autumn
The Fiery Cross
A Breath of Snow and Ashes
An Echo in the Bone
The Outlandish Companion
(nonfiction)
(in chronological order)
Lord John and the Hellfire Club (novella)
Lord John and the Private Matter
Lord John and the Succubus (novella)
Lord John and the Brotherhood of the Blade
Lord John and the Haunted Soldier (novella)
Custom of the Army (novella)
Lord John and the Hand of Devils (collected novellas)
The Scottish Prisoner
Plague of Zombies (novella)
About the Author
DIANA GABALDON is the New York Times bestselling author of the wildly popular Outlander novels—Outlander, Dragonfly in Amber, Voyager, Drums of Autumn, The Fiery Cross, A Breath of Snow and Ashes (for which she won a Quill Award and the Corine International Book Prize), and An Echo in the Bone—as well as one work of nonfiction, The Outlandish Companion; the Outlander graphic novel The Exile; and the bestselling series featuring Lord John Grey, a character she introduced in her Outlander series. She lives in Scottsdale, Arizona, with her husband.
www.dianagabaldon.com
Turn the page for a
special early preview of
Written in My Own
Heart’s Blood,
the next Outlander novel after
An Echo in the Bone.
Claire, having just discovered that Jamie is alive, meets Jamie’s sister, the recently widowed Jenny Murray, in Philadelphia, in the wake of other traumatic discoveries …
MRS. FIGG WAS SMOOTHLY SPHERICAL, GLEAMINGLY BLACK, and inclined to glide silently up behind one like a menacing ballbearing.
“What’s this?” she barked, manifesting herself suddenly behind Jenny.
“Holy Mother of God!” Jenny whirled, eyes round and hand pressed to her chest. “Who in God’s name are you?”
“This is Mrs. Figg,” I said, feeling a surreal urge to laugh, despite—or maybe because of—recent events. “Lord John Grey’s cook. And Mrs. Figg, this is Mrs. Murray. My, um … my …”
“Your good-sister,” Jenny said firmly. She raised one black eyebrow. “If ye’ll have me, still?” Her look was straight and open, and the urge to laugh changed abruptly into an equally strong urge to burst into tears. Of all the unlikely sources of succor I could have imagined.… I took a deep breath and put out my hand.
“I’ll have you.”
Her small firm fingers wove through mine, and as simply as that, it was done. No need for apologies or spoken forgiveness. She’d never had to wear the mask that Jamie did. What she thought and felt was there in her eyes, those slanted blue cat-eyes she shared with her brother. She knew me, now, for what I was—and knew I loved—had always loved—her brother with all my heart and soul—despite the minor complications of being presently married to someone else. And that knowledge obliterated years of mistrust, suspicion, and injury.
She heaved a sigh, eyes closing for an instant, then opened them and smiled at me, mouth trembling only a little.
“Well, fine and dandy,” said Mrs. Figg, shortly. She narrowed her eyes and rotated smoothly on her axis, taking in the panorama of destruction. The railing at the top of the stair had been ripped off, and cracked banisters, dented walls, and bloody smudges marked the path of William’s descent. Shattered crystals