Character: Claire Fraser (Randall). Page 3

I have not yet reached this state, I have not been shaking yet.

here - something like that.

- Between hell now and hell later, Saxon girl, I will always choose the latter.

- Oh yeah. But he said that if he had a headache, he would definitely take advantage of your offer. But drinking whiskey is much nicer than this vile black potion.

Jamie got up and stood by. His shadow fell into my lap. Undoubtedly, this meant that the veil was torn: the shadow cannot exist without light.

- I lost my child.
He looked a little surprised.
I didn't call you Madonna because you were with a child, sweetie.
- Then why?
In fact, I didn't expect an answer from him, but he replied:
- Around each person there is a field that surrounds him like a cloud. And each person has his own color. Your cloud is blue, the same as the veil of the Holy Virgin Mary, and the same as mine.

Revenge is alien to pity.

He parried the blow I was about to deliver to his ear and broke into smiles.

“It looks like Bouton is having some disagreements with my husband,” I replied.

- ... Apparently he was left on the stirrup while the two accomplices continued their search. I didn't know what to do next," Jamie said, rubbing his nose, "of course, I was safe in the shop, but I could not get out of there, I would immediately be noticed.
He turned around nervously, smoothing the scarlet fabric of the kielta on his knees.
- So what did you do? I asked.
"I bought a sausage," he simply replied.
More precisely, it was Dundin. This delicacy was prepared from duck meat with the addition of ham and lenison, all this was boiled, stuffed into the intestine and dried in the sun. The result was a sausage eighteen inches long, hard, like oak wood.
"I couldn't come out with a naked sword," Jamie continued. - On the other hand, I didn't want to pass by that guy in the proulka without weapons either.
***
"I definitely broke his nose," he said thoughtfully. - Anyway, this scoundrel recoiled, I slipped past him and started running down Pelletier Street.
Passers-by with screams ran away, just a flock of frightened geese: the sight of a huge Scotsman rushing down the street in a fluttering kilt could frighten anyone. Jamie didn't stop or wrap himself up - it was clear from the indignant screams coming from behind that the pursuers were still chasing him.
The Royal Guards rarely patrolled the streets of the area, and there was no need to wait for help from others, except that the hustle and bustle on the street could slightly delay the pursuers. Who wants to interfere in street showdowns, especially for the sake of some foreigner.
"The street there is straight, without any branches," Jamie said. - And I certainly needed to run to the place where you could bare the sword and press your back against the wall. On the run, I pushed the locked doors. Finally lucky - one was open.
Breaking into the semi-dark hallway, Jamie raced past the bewilded porter, then, throwing back the curtain, was in the center of a large, well-lit hall. It was the salon of the notorious Madame Eliza, he realized this when the tickling smell of perfume hit his nostrils.
"I understand," I said and bit my lip. - I hope you didn't have to pull out the sword there?
Jamie squinted slightly and replied evasively:
- I guess, Englishwoman, you have a strong imagination to imagine the effect of my sudden appearance in a brothel, and even with a huge sausage in hand.
Imagination did not fail, I laughed.

Only belatedly, I noticed how pale his cheeks and nostrils tremble slightly.

“My Uncle Bob would never have tolerated anything like this.

- No. - he smiled. - Since we will have to keep this oath to the end, until her very last word.

- Wouldn't you risk your dick? I asked jokingly. - By the way, I heard how this part of your body is sometimes called Peter. And the Yankees for some reason known only to them - Dick. Once I called one patient who teased me all the time, Clever Dick, so the poor fellow's stitches almost parted from laughter.