Diana Gabaldon · @Writer_DG
4th Mar 2014 from TwitLonger
#DailyLines #MOBY #WRITTENInMYOwnHEARTSBlood #Book8 #OutJUNE10th #notamorningperson
John Grey was enjoying a confused but pleasant dream involving spring rain, his dachshund Roscoe, Colonel Watson Smith and a great deal of mud, when he gradually became aware that the rain-drops on his face were real.
He opened his eyes, blinking, to discover his niece, Dottie, holding his pitcher in one hand and sprinkling water from her fingertips onto his face.
“Good morning, uncle John,” she said cheerily. “Rise and shine!”
“The last person injudicious enough to say that to me in the morning came to a most unpleasant end,” he said, struggling upright and rubbing the sleeve of his nightshirt across his face.
“Really? What happened to him? Or was it a him?” She dimpled at him and set down the pitcher, wiping her wet fingers on her skirt.
“What an improper question,” he said, eyeing her.
“Well, I will soon be a married woman, you know,” she said, sitting down with an air of extreme self-possession. “I am allowed to know that men and women occasionally share a bed, even outwith the bonds of matrimony.”
“Outwith? Where did you pick up that barbarous construction? Have you been speaking to Scotchmen?”
“Constantly,” she said. “But what happened to the unfortunate person who tried to roust you from your slumbers?”
“Oh, him.” He rubbed a hand over his head. “He was scalped by Red Indians.”
She blinked.
“Well, that will teach him, to be sure,” she murmured.