Then kiss me, Claire," he whispered. "And know that you are more to me than life, and I have no regret." I couldn't answer, but kissed him, first his hand, its crooked fingers warm and firm, and the brawny wrist of a sword-wielder, and then his mouth, haven and promise and anguish all mingled, and the salt of tears in the taste of him.
( Diana Gabaldon )
[ Voyager ]
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