Diana Gabaldon · @Writer_DG
28th Jun 2013 from TwitLonger
#DailyLines #WrittenINMyOWNHeartsBLOOD #Book8 #OutMarch25th #goodadvice
“You might have done worse,” his uncle observed after a moment. “In the way of sires, I mean.”
“Oh, really?” William said coldly.
“Granted, he is a Scot,” the duke said judiciously.
“And a traitor.”
“And a traitor,” Hal agreed. “Damn fine swordsman, though. Knows his horses.”
“He was a fucking _groom_, for God’s sake!” Fresh outrage made William jerk upright again, despite the thunder in his temples. “What am I bloody going to do?!”
His uncle sighed deeply, and put the cork back in the flask.
“Advice? You’re too old to be given it, and too young to take it.” He glanced aside at William, his face very like Papa’s. Thinner, older, dark brows beginning to beetle, but with that same rueful humor in the corners of his eyes. “Thought of blowing your brains out?”
William blinked, startled.
“No.”
“That’s good. Anything else is bound to be an improvement, isn’t it?” He rose, stretching, and groaned with the movement. “God, I’m old. Lie down, William, and go to sleep. You’re in no condition to think.” He opened the lantern and blew it out, plunging the tent in darkness.