Quotes About Affection

Mo Nighean donn, he whispered, mo chridhe. My brown lass, my heart. Come to me. Cover me. Shelter me. a bhean, heal me. Burn with me, as I burn for you.

Then kiss me, Claire, he whispered, And know that you are more to me than life, and I have no regret.

Could I but lay my head in your lap, lass. Feel your hand on me, and sleep wi' the scent of you in my bed. Christ, Sassenach. I need ye.

I love you, a nighean donn. I have loved ye from the moment I saw ye, I will love ye 'til time itself is done, and so long as you are by my side, I am well pleased wi' the world.

But I talk to you as I talk to my own soul, he said, turning me to face him. He reached up and cupped my cheek, fingers light on my temple. And, Sassenach, he whispered, your face is my heart.

Sassenach. He had called me that from the first; the Gaelic word for outlander, a stranger. An Englishman. First in jest, then in affection.

I kissed his cheek, damp and salty. I could feel his heart beating against my ribs, and wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, not moving, not making love, just breathing the same air.

Jaime, you must be half-dead He laughed tiredly, holding me close with one large warm hand on the small of my back. A lot more than half, Sassenach. I'm knackered, and my cock's the only thing too stupid to know it. I canna lie wi' ye without wanting you, but wanting's all I'm like to do.

I always wake when you do, Sassenach; I sleep ill without ye by my side.

If I die before I say 'I love you' it's because I didn't have the time.

I wanted ye from the first I saw ye – but I loved ye when you wept in my arms and let me comfort you, that first time at Leoch.

I have loved others, and I do love many, Sassenach—but you alone hold all my heart, whole in your hands," he said softly. "And you know that.

Ye werena the first lass I kissed," he said softly. "But I swear you'll be the last." And he bent his head to my upturned face.

He bent and kissed me briefly, then headed for the door. Just short of it, though, he turned back. The, um, sperms ... he said, a little awkwardly. Yes? Can ye not take them out and give them decent burial or something? I hid my smile in my teacup. I'll take good care of them, I promised. I always do, don't I?

I canna look at ye asleep without wanting to wake ye, Sassenach." His hand cupped my breast, gently now. "I suppose I find myself lonely without ye.

You're beautiful to me, Jamie," I said softly, at last. "So beautiful, you break my heart.

Your face is my heart

A man who had never spoken love to me, who had never needed to, for I knew he loved me, as surely as I knew I lived. For where all love is, the speaking is unnecessary. It is all. It is undying. And it is enough.

All the names I've called you through the years—my chick, my pumpkin, precious dove, darling, sweetheart, dinky, smudge Ã¢â'¬Â¦ I know why the Jews and Muslims have nine hundred names for God; one small word is not enough for love.

If ye were no longer there—or somewhere—" he said very softly, "then the sun would no longer come up or go down." He lifted my hand and kissed it, very gently. He laid it, closed around my ring, upon my chest, rose, and left.

Come to bed, a nighean. Nothing hurts when ye love me." He was right; nothing did.

Jamie… I only want to be where you are. Nothing else.

While ye sleep in my arms, I can say things to ye that would be daft and silly waking, and your dreams will know the truth of them.

Sorcha," he whispered, and realized that he had called her so a moment before. Now, that was odd; no wonder she had been surprised. It was her name in the Gaelic, but he never called her by it. He liked the strangeness of her, the Englishness. She was his Claire, his Sassenach.