Don't worry. Blood will not be shed. Although if there was, I'm sure your husband would have another fine tapestry made.

Understand this... Elizabeth is a Walsingham, and we Walsinghams chase no man." "Aye, well, I'll be sure to tell that to Torquil the next time I see him.

Truth be told, I've seen ye watching me, staring. Your eyes tell me what ye are thinking." When she stiffened, he leaned in closer. "I think ye wonder what lies beneath my kilt. If ye ask me nicely, mayhap I'll show ye. But ye'll have to say please.

You know how much I love you and the girls with all my heart, but being with Ruairi... I never realized there was something missing until I found it.

I know you don't like me very much." He pulled back, and his smile turned into another chuckle. "Now I wouldnae say that. Donna get me wrong. Ye have a way about ye that drives me completely mad, and your sharp tongue grates on my nerves, but... 'tis apparent that I hold something for ye because I havenae yet run my sword through ye.

What am I going to do with ye, Grace? First, ye blacken my eye, and then ye slice me in the thigh." He chuckled. "I bet ye ne'er knew I was a poet, did ye?" When he felt her hand pat him, he chuckled. "Ye cannae get enough of me, can ye?" "Pardon?" "Och, lass. That isnae my thigh.

Och, aye. So the lass saved your life by stabbing ye.

A ghràidh means "my love." Something ye have been since the first time ye blackened my eye.

I want to share something you that Uncle Walter once told me: You don't choose who to love. Love finds you. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that you cannot, and most certainly should not, force your feelings...