“It’s true!” She whirled toward Jamie, fists clenched against the cloak she still wore. “It’s true! It’s the Sassenach witch! How could ye do such a thing to me, Jamie Fraser?”
“Be still, Laoghaire!” he snapped. “I’ve done nothing to ye!”
I sat up against the wall, clutching the quilt to my bosom and staring. It was only when he spoke her name that I recognized her. Twenty-odd years, ago, Laoghaire MacKenzie had been a slender sixteen-year-old, with rose-petal skin, moonbeam hair and a violent — and unrequited — passion for Jamie Fraser. Evidently, a few things had changed.
She was nearing forty and no longer slender, having thickened considerably. The skin was still fair, but weathered, and stretched plumply over cheeks flushed with anger. Strands of ashy hair straggled out from under her respectable white kertch. The pale blue eyes were the same, though — they turned on me again, with the same expression of hatred I had seen in them long ago.
“He’s mine!” she hissed. She stamped her foot. “Get ye back to the hell that ye came from, and leave him to me! Go, I say!”
Diana Gabaldon, Voyager (Chapter 34 – Daddy)
“He said that he could not bear it longer — to dwell in the same house with me, to share my bed.” She spoke calmly, as though reciting a piece she had learned by heart, her eyes still fixed on the empty spot where the pearls had rested.
“So he left. And then he came back — with the witch. Flaunted her in my face; bedded her under my nose.” Slowly, she raised her eyes to Brianna’s studying her with quiet intensity, searching out the mysteries of her face. Slowly, she nodded.
“It was she,” she said, with a certainly that was faintly eerie in its calmness. “She cast her spells on him from the day she came to Leoch — and on me. She made me invisible. From the day she came, he could not see me.”
Brianna felt a small shiver run up her spine, despite the hissing peat fire on the hearth.
“And then she was gone. Dead, they said. Killed in the rising. And him come home again from England, free at long last.” She shook her head very slightly; her eyes still rested on Brianna’s face, but Brianna knew Laoghaire didn’t see her any longer.
“But she wasna dead at all,” Laoghaire said softly. “And he was not free. I knew that; I always knew that. Ye canna kill a witch with steel — they must burn.”
Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn (Chapter 34 – Lallybroch)
And somewhere in between, Outlander’s very own Bitter Betty shoots our hero with his own pistol. Not like JAMMF to be caught unawares like that, now is it?
Thankfully for him, Number One Wifey has a few ampules in her arsenal, and so he lives to see another day.
As for Leghair, that woman really needs a drink. Or ten. This icy-sweet whisky cocktail with a sour twist kind of suits her — after all, years before she was a raving b*tch at Lallybroch, she must have had lips of honey in that alcove at Leoch…
I have no doubt that there’s at least a score of Scotsmen, somewhere, banging their heads against their screens at the sight of 16 YO Lagavulin, one of Scotland’s finest single malts, in a mixed drink. And, if not for the fact that it was all we had on the shelf, I would generally agree.
But because I did use it, I found out how much you can change the nature of a whisky cocktail simply by your choice of scotch. And although I wouldn’t do this everyday, I really enjoyed the lingering flavour of Lagavulin’s peat as it mixed with the lemon and honey. Refreshing and soothing all at once.
(Click on the title below for a printable version of the recipe.)
The perfect naturally sweet, lightly sour whisky cocktail for a hot summer’s evening, whether you shot someone that day or not.
Yield: Serves 2
- Hot Water – 2 Tble (or to taste)
- Honey – 2 Tble
- Whisky – 2 oz
- Fresh Lemon Juice – 2 Tble (1 Lemon)
- Crushed Ice
Stir together hot water and honey until dissolved. Add whisky and lemon juice.
Serve over plenty of crushed ice, garnished with a citrus twist.