“I’ve brought but the two cups, for I thought perhaps Mrs. Randall would care to join me in the kitchen. I’ve a bit of –“ I didn’t wait for the conclusion of her invitation, but leapt to my feet with alacrity. I could hear the theories breaking out again behind me as we pushed through the swinging door that led to the manse’s kitchen.
The tea was green, hot and fragrant, with bits of leaf swirling through the liquid.
“Mmm,” I said, setting the cup down. “It’s been a long time since I tasted Oolong.”
Mrs. Graham nodded, beaming at my pleasure in her refreshments. She had clearly gone to some trouble, laying out handmade lace mats beneath the eggshell cups and providing thick clotted cream with the scones.
Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (Chapter 1 – A New Beginning)
The trembling did begin to ease within a minute or two, and Jamie opened his eyes with a sigh.
I’m all right,” he said. “Claire, I’m all right, now. But for God’s sake, get rid of that stink!”
It was only then that I consciously noticed the scent in the room – a light, spicy floral smell, so common a perfume that I had thought nothing of it. Lavender. A scent for soaps and toilet waters. I had last smelled it in the dungeons of Wentworth Prison, where it anointed the linen or the person of Captain Jonathon Randall.
Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (Chapter 38 – The Abbey)
Moored on Loch Dochfour – the last stop before Loch Ness
It was after nine when we arrived, and the guide Frank had called for was awaiting us on the edge of the loch with a small sailing skiff. “An’ it suits ye, sir, I thought we’d take a wee sail down the loch-side to Urquhart Castle. Perhaps we’ll sup a bit there, before goin’ on.” The guide, a dour-looking little man in weather-beaten cotton shirt and twill trousers, stowed the picnic hamper tidily beneath the seat, and offered me a callused hand down into the well of the boat. Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (Chapter 2 – Standing Stones)
“Oh, Arthur knew,” she said. “He wouldna admit it, to be sure — not even to himself. But he knew. We’d sit across the board from each other at supper, and I’d ask, “Will ye have a bit more o’ the cullen skink, my dear?’ of “A sup of ale, my own?’ And him watching me, with those eyes like boiled eggs, and he’d say no, he didna feel himself with an appetite just then. And he’d push his plate back, and later I’d hear him in the kitchen, secret-like, gobbling his food standing by the hutch, thinking himself safe, because he ate no food that came from my hand.”
Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (Chapter 25 – Thou Shalt Not Suffer a Witch to Live)
There was a lessening of the tension over the hall, and almost an audible sigh of relief in the gallery as Colum drank from the quaich and offered it to Jamie. The young man accepted it with a smile. Instead of the customary ceremonial sip, however, he carefully raised the nearly full vessel, tilted it and drank. And kept on drinking. There was a gasp of mingled respect and amusement from the spectators, as the powerful throat muscles kept moving. Surely he’d have to breathe soon, I thought, but no. He drained the heavy cup to the last drop, lowered it with an explosive gasp for air, and handed it back to Colum.
“The honor is mine,” he said, a little hoarsely, “to be allied with a clan whose taste in whisky is so fine.”
Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (Chapter 10 – The Oath Taking)