Quotes About Betrayal

My kinsfolk have failed, and my familiar friends have forgotten me.

I have had carnal knowledge of your wife." "You bugger," he whispered

What the bloody hell had happened, though? How had they done it—why? He felt as though he was fevered, his mind dazed with the waves of heat that throbbed over his body. And like the half-glimpsed things in fever dreams, he saw her naked flesh, pale and shimmering with sweat in the humid night, slick under John Grey's hand Ã¢â'¬Â¦ We were both fucking you!

But her father was gone, replaced by a violent stranger; a man who had her face, but could not understand her heart, a man who had taken both family and home from her, and not satisfied with that, had taken love and safety too, leaving her bereft in this strange, harsh land

What, she's taken the hairs off her honeypot?

So now thee has doomed thy kinsman, repudiated thy father, and caused me to betray my principles. What next?!" "Oh, bloody hell," he said, and grabbed her arms, pulled her roughly to him, and kissed her. He let go and stepped back quickly, leaving her bug-eyed and gasping. The

I wouldna tell ye if I did," he said, just as quietly. "But I don't." "Would you warn him—if you could?" Grey asked. He oughtn't, but was possessed by curiosity. "I would," Fraser replied without hesitation. He turned round now and looked down at Grey, expressionless. "He was once my friend." So was I, Grey thought, and took more brandy. Am I now again? But not even the most exigent curiosity would make him ask.

I knew Frank hadn't been celibate since my disappearance. In his late forties, he was still lean and muscular, dark and sleek, a very handsome man. Women clustered about him at cocktail parties like bees round a honeypot, emitting small hums of sexual excitement.

I didn't want to pursue the history of John's eye any further. Other considerations aside, any discussion might lead a little too close to Wentworth Prison for comfort. However close a friend Jamie might have considered John during the last few years, I was positive that he'd never told John about Black Jack Randall and what had happened at Wentworth.

Jamie's back was turned to me, but Lord John faced the hallway; he could have seen me easily, had he looked. He wasn't looking toward the hallway, though. He was staring at Jamie, and on his face was a look of such naked hunger that the blood rushed to my own cheeks when I saw it. I dropped my fan. I saw the Governor's head turn, startled at the sound. Then I was running down the hall, back toward the salon, my heartbeat drumming in my ears.

You bloody bastard!" he said under his breath. "You knew, you knew all along!" That infuriated him almost more than the horrifying revelation of his own paternity. His stepfather, whom he'd loved, whom he'd trusted more than anyone on earth—Lord John bloody Grey—had lied to him his whole life! Everyone had lied to him. Everyone.

As I leaned against the wall, trembling in the shadows, the door to the Governor's quarters opened, and the Governor came out, returning to his party. His face was flushed and his eyes shone. I could at that moment easily have murdered him, had I anything more lethal than a hairpin to hand.

Laoghaire." Even now, I could not repress a brief spurt of rage at the girl's name. Out of thwarted jealousy over my having married Jamie, she had deliberately tried to have me killed. Considerable depths of malice for a sixteen-year-old girl. And even now, mingled with the rage was that tiny spark of grim satisfaction; he's mine, I thought, almost subconsciously. Mine. You'll never take him from me. Never.

If Jamie could take Lord John Grey as a lover, and hide it from me, he wasn't remotely the man I thought he was. There had to be some other explanation.

WHY DID YE never tell me that Frank Randall looked like Black Jack?

You call her 'Dame Blanche,' " Jamie said, between his teeth. "I call her wife! Let her face be the last that ye see, then!

You didn't know that Jamie was married?" He blinked, but not in time to keep me from seeing a small grimace of pain, as though someone had struck him suddenly across the face.

He felt a moment's passionate gratitude to her. He'd seen her look at the boy, and knew how she must feel. She'd known about the lad, of course, but seeing the flesh-and-blood proof that her husband had shared another woman's bed wasn't something a wife should be asked to put up with. Little wonder if she was inclined to stick pins in John, him pushing the lad under her nose as he had.

It was one thing to know Christ as God and Savior and all the other capital-letter things that went with that. It was another to realize with shocking clarity that, bar the nails, he knew exactly how Jesus of Nazareth had felt. Alone. Betrayed, terrified, wrenched away from those he loved, and wanting with every atom of one's being to stay alive.

And Claire Ã¢â'¬Â¦ His mouth went dry. Claire was, so far as anyone in Philadelphia knew, the wife of Lord John Grey, a very visible Loyalist. And Jamie himself had just removed John Grey's protection from her, leaving her alone and helpless in a city about to explode. How long did he have before the British left the city? No one at the table knew.

DON'T ASK QUESTIONS YOU DON'T WANT TO HEAR THE ANSWERS TO In the woods, an hour's ride outside Philadelphia JOHN GREY HAD BEEN quite resigned to dying. Had expected it from the moment that he'd blurted out, "I have had carnal knowledge of your wife." The only question in his mind had been whether Fraser would shoot him, stab him, or eviscerate him with his bare hands.

THE FRENCHMAN'S GOLD We found Jocasta Cameron Innes on the window seat in her room, clad in her chemise, bound hand and foot with strips of bed linen, and absolutely scarlet-faced with fury. I had no time to take further note of her condition, for Duncan Innes, clad for the night in

I kept thinking—how should I tell ye everything, about Geneva, and Willie, and John—will ye know about John?

A man may smile, and smile, and be a villain