Y’all have asked some good questions in the comments to the last post, but most of them will require a bit of time and thought to respond to properly. Since I’m working madly this weekend to fill up the remaining holes in the new website (which I _hope_ to reveal to public view sometime next week), I thought for today, I’d just give you a bit of Book Eight, which I notice a number of people had asked for, too. {g}
Book Eight
Copyright 2010 Diana Gabaldon
“Stay,” he said sternly to Rollo, turning back for an instant. The dog, who had not stirred from his comfortable spot at Rachel’s feet, twitched one ear.
William was standing by the roadside, looking hot, tired, disheveled, and thoroughly unhappy. As well he might, Ian thought with some sympathy. William was likely bound for England—if he was lucky—or for parole in some rough lodging somewhere far to the south. In either case, his active role as a soldier was over for some time.
His face changed abruptly at sight of Ian. Surprise, the beginnings of indignation, then a quick glance round, decision clamping down upon his features. Ian was surprised for a moment that he could read William’s face so easily, but then remembered why. Uncle Jamie guarded his own expression in company—but not with Ian. Ian’s own face didn’t show his knowledge, though, anymore than William’s now showed more than an irritable acknowledgement.
“Scout,” William said, with the briefest of nods. The officer to whom he had been talking gave Ian a brief, incurious look, then saluted William and plunged back into the trudging stream.
“What the bloody hell do you want?” William drew a grubby sleeve across his sweating face. Ian was mildly surprised at this evident hostility; they’d parted on good terms the last time they had seen each other—though there had been little conversation at the time, William having just put a pistol-ball through the brain of a madman trying to kill Rachel, Ian, or both, with an axe. Ian’s left arm had healed enough to dispense with a sling, but it was still stiff.
“There’s a lady who’d like to speak with ye,” he said, ignoring William’s narrowed eyes. The eyes relaxed a little.
“Miss Hunter?” A small gleam of pleasure lit William’s eyes, and Ian’s own narrowed slightly. Aye, well, he thought, let her tell him, then.
William waved to a corporal down the line, who waved back, then stepped off the road after Ian. A few soldiers glanced at Ian, but he was unremarkable, the double line of dotted tattooing on his cheeks, his buckskin breeches, and his sun-browned skin marking him as an Indian scout—a good many of these had deserted the British army, but there were still a good many left, mostly Loyalists like Joseph Brant who held land in Pennysylvania and New York, though there were still some ranging parties from the Iroquois nations who had come down to fight at Saratoga.
“William!” Rachel flew across the little clearing and clasped the tall captain’s hands, beaming up at him with such joy that he smiled back at her, all irritability vanished. Ian hung back a little, to give her time. There hadn’t been any, really, what with Rollo roaring and tearing at Arch Bug’s miserable auld carcass, Rachel sprawled on the floor, frozen with horror, himself lying on the floor pouring blood, and half the street outside screaming bloody murder.
William had pulled Rachel to her feet and thrust her into the arms of the first woman available, who as it happened, was Marsali.
“Get her out of here!” William had snapped. But Rachel, Ian’s nut-brown maiden—her brownness much splattered with blood—had pulled herself together in an instant, and gritting her teeth—he’d seen her do it, bemused by shock as he lay on the floor, watching things happen as though in a dream—as she stepped over auld Arch’s body, had fallen to her knees in the mess of brains and blood, wrapped her apron tight about his wounded arm and tied it with her kerchief, and then with Marsali, had dragged him bodily out of the print-shop and into the street, where he’d promptly passed out, waking only when Auntie Claire began stitching his arm.
Ian hadn’t had time to thank William, even had he been able to speak, and he meant to convey his own thanks as soon as he might. But clearly Rachel wanted to talk to him first, and he waited, thinking how beautiful she looked, her eyes the clouded hazel of thicket and green-brier, face clever and quick as flame.
“But thee is tired, William, and thin,” she was saying, drawing a finger disapprovingly down the side of his face. “Do they not feed thee? I’d thought it was only the Continentals who went short of rations.”
“Oh. I—I haven’t had time of late.” The happiness that had lit William’s face while he talked with Rachel faded noticeably. “We—well, you see.” He waved an arm toward the invisible road, where the hoarse chants of the sergeants rang like the calling of disgruntled crows above the shuffle of feet.
“I do see. Where is thee going?”
William rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, and glanced at Ian.
“I suppose he oughtn’t to say,” Ian said, coming across and touching Rachel’s arm, smiling at William in apology. “We’re the enemy, a nighean donn.”
William looked sharply at Ian, catching the tone of his voice, then back at Rachel, whose hand he was still holding.
“We are betrothed, William—Ian and I,” she said, gently pulling her hand out of his and putting it on Ian’s.
William’s face changed abruptly, losing its look of happiness altogether. He eyed Ian with something remarkably close to dislike.
“Are you,” he said flatly. “I suppose I must wish you every happiness, then. Good day.” He turned on his heel, and Ian, surprised, reached out to pull him back.
“Wait—“ he said, and then William turned and hit him in the mouth.
He was lying on his back in the leaves, blinking in disbelief, as Rollo hurtled over him and sank his teeth in some soft part of William, judging by the yelp and the brief cry of startlement from Rachel.
“Rollo! Bad dog—and thee is a bad dog, too, William Ransom! What the devil does thee mean by this?”
Ian sat up, tenderly fingering his lip, which was bleeding. Rollo had retreated a little under Rachel’s scolding, but kept a yellow eye fixed on William and a curled lip raised over bared teeth, the faintest rumble of a growl coming from his huge chest.
“Sheas,” Ian said to him briefly, and got to his feet. William had sat down and was examining the calf of his leg, which was bleeding through his torn silk hose, though not badly. When he saw Ian, he scrambled to his feet. His face was bright red and he looked as though he meant either to do murder or burst into tears. Maybe both, Ian thought in surprise.
He was careful not to touch William again, but stood back a bit—in front of Rachel, just in case the man meant to go off again. He was armed, after all; there was a pistol and sword at his belt.
“Are ye all right, man?” he asked, in the same tone of mild concern he’d heard his Da use now and then on his Mam or Uncle Jamie. Evidently it was in fact the right tone to take with a Fraser about to go berserk, for William breathed like a grampus for a moment or two, then got himself under control.
“I ask your pardon, sir,” he said, back stiff as a stick of rock-maple. “That was unforgiveable. I shall…leave you. I—Miss Hunter…I–” He turned, stumbling a little, and that gave Rachel time to dart round in front of him.
“William!” Her face was full of distress. “What is it? Have I—“
He looked down at her, his face contorted, but shook his head.
“You haven’t done anything,” he said, with an obvious effort. “You…you could never do anything that…” He swung round toward Ian, fist clenched on his sword. “But you, you fucking bas— you son-of-a-bitch! Cousin!”
“Oh,” said Ian, stupidly. “Ye know, then.”
“Yes, I bloody know! You could have fucking told me!”
“Know what?” Rachel stepped round Ian, looking from him to William and back again.
“Don’t you bloody tell her!” William snapped.
“Don’t be silly,” Rachel said reasonably. “Of course he’ll tell me, the minute we’re alone. Does thee not wish to tell me thyself? I think perhaps thee might not trust Ian to say it aright.” Her eye rested on Ian’s lip, and her own mouth twitched. Ian might have taken offense at this, save that William’s distress was so apparent.
“It isna really a disgrace…” he began, but then stepped hastily back as William’s clenched fist drew back.
“You think not?” William was so furious, his voice was nearly inaudible. “To discover that I am—am—the…the get of a Scottish criminal? That I am a fucking bastard?”
Despite his resolve to be patient, Ian felt his own dander start to rise.
“Criminal, forbye!” he snapped. “Any man might be proud to be the son of Jamie Fraser!”
“Oh,” said Rachel, forestalling William’s next heated remark. “That.”
“What?” He glared down at her. “What the devil do you mean, ‘that’?”
“We thought it must be the case, Denny and I.” She lifted one shoulder, though keeping a close watch on William, who looked as though he was about to go off like a twelve-pound mortar. “But we supposed that thee didn’t wish the matter talked about. I didn’t know that thee—how could thee not have known?” she asked curiously. “The resemblance—“
“Fuck the resemblance!”
This excerpt makes me so excited to read Book Eight! I love William.
The new blog is lovely.
Lovely!! Can’t wait for book eight!!
thanks for this excerpt (and all the other one)!! love it!!
can’t wait to read the new book! all the confrontations: william & jamie, jamie & lord john, jamie & claire!! it’s going to be awesome!
“the right tone to take with a Fraser about to go beserk”… LOVE IT!
Yay! Can’t wait for more…
I personally am glad that the secret is out, so to speak! I think that William needs both of his fathers, and two better men you will never find than Jamie Fraser, and Lord John Grey.
hahaha “fuck the resemblance”. classic.
What a treat this was!
Love it. Cannot wait for more. I do really hope that William can come to terms with it though. I love all these men.
LOVED IT. Cant wait for the rest, love them all.
Can not WAIT for book 8!!! Thank you so much for writing these novels!!!
Thank you-May I have some more,please?
Me too!
I can’t believe that I’m going to have to wait and worry about Jem for 2 years!! As the mother of a young boy, that was the biggest thing left untied in Book 7! Ahhhh
Dear Paula–
Did you check the Excerpts for Book Eight? (on this site; look under the “Writing/Outlander series” tab).
I am dying here!! Just finished Book 7 last week and knew there had to be another-WAY too many loose ends:
What about Jem and the underground train and the time travel “thing” down there-is he going to end up embeded in rock 200 yrs in the past?!
What about Roger-did he make it back to the past okay?
Brianna and Rob – will they go back too?
William, Ian, Rachael, Claire and Jamie????
Going through these posts I’m trying to figure out when the release date will be for Book 8-can anyone tell me? I saw that someone mentioned 2 years?! That will make me nuts to wait that long!
LOVE this series! I have turned so many of my girlfriends on to these books, much to the dismay of their husbands (I’m afraid your books are the culprit for many undone loads of laundry and dirty dishes!)
I can not wait for Book 8…PLEASE HURRY!
Dear Jennifer–
Well, Book Eight is coming, I assure you–with answers to your questions. {g} But the big books of the main series -are- big, and also complex, with a lot of engineering to make them readable both alone, and as an integral part of the larger construction. So it does take me about three years to write one. Add in all the travel time for promoting books, and you got something like 3 12/-4 years between the large book releases. That’s one reason why I do smaller things, like THE EXILE or the Lord John novellas, along the way (the other reason being that I always work better–and faster {g}–when I’m working on more than one thing; it keeps me from having writer’s block).
But you _will_ get SCOTTISH PRISONER (they’re now calling it THE SCOTTISH PRISONER (A Lord John Novel), as it’s half-and-half Jamie/Lord John) on November 29th! Hope that’ll ease the wait some!
–Diana
OMG I so love this series & I have Claire’s ring. Diana, when is the book expected to be out?
Dear Sue–
Wellll…..you know…if you look at the FRONT PAGE of this site, you will see a headline that says, “WHEN WILL THE NEXT BOOK BE OUT?” If you read that, you’ll know as much as I do. {g}
==Doama
Both me and my late father have enjoyed every single book of this superb story. The last one my dad was able to read before his death was “snow and ashes”. It was very poignant as it came out about the time we scattered my mums ashes in the local park in the snow.
I am only sorry my dad is no longer around to have readh “An Echo” – I have enjoyed every single word of every single page.
Thank you Diana. You make a lot of people very happy with your novels. they are just superb. I am in awe of the way it all comes together. Completely a work of genius.
Susan.
Dear Susan–
Thank you–and I’m so glad you and your father could share the books. {smile}
–Diana
I sense that William will be one big storm cloud rolling through this next book. Excellent excerpt! Thank you!
Dear Diana -
This is a nice tidbit that links to the last pages of Echo.
I want to THANK you for not using the word “plainly” in that excerpt.
You see, it is plain that I plainly feel that the the word “plainly” is plainly overeused in Echo.
Annoyingly, I become plainly focused on whether one or two pages would pass before the dreaded plainly word would next appear.
I began slotting in other words myself when “plainly” was used two or three times on a page.
You are the author, but I could not help this reaction. Never occured in all your other books I have read. I was conjuring on the scene you were describing.
Dear Survivor–
Clearly, {g} some words are indeed over-used, and just as clearly, sometimes a reader develops a sensitivity to a particular word or phrase, even though said word/phrase doesn’t leap out and grab the readers universally by the throat. I’ll keep an eye on “plainly” for the next book, just in case.
–Diana
Alacrity is another favorite of yours. I got a big chuckle when I recently heard a sportscaster say the player ran with alacrity! Made me wonder if he read your books!
I also like your phrase, “smile of surpassing sweetness” usually used when writing of Fergus.
I appreciate how you have improved my vocabulary and knowledge of history with your writing.
Wow! I mean really…Wow! I can picture the scene so clearly, William breathing “like a grampus” and Rachel’s mouth twitching while looking at Ian. I’m working my way through the series for the second time and love every book even more than before. Thank you for writing such a fantastic series.
Just found this and enjoyed it immensly. I’ll spend the rest of the night grinning happily. This is exactly the sort of confrontation I was imagining. Now I’m just wondering how William found out.
Late 2010, I stumbled upon “An Echo…” having read the first four books in the series while traveling though Austrailia in 2000 (most of my fellow companion would sleep and watch movies while I was quickly page turning), and read “Fiery Cross” and “Breath of Snow…” both in 2005. I was so excited to purchase “An Echo…” however, I did not dare start to read the book until I passed all CPA exams because, as experience had it, I can stay up all night and read the day(s) away just to finish the Outlander series, ignoring all else. I just finished this evening and as I was turning what appeared to be the last page, I exclaimed, “What! Is that it?! What about Jem?!?” I will be waiting anxiously for Book Eight!
I tell everyone about the series. Just the other evening, my father picked up “An Echo..” , noting the sheer volume, and I had to show him all the books in the series. My father was a history professor, PhD (William and Mary). I had to tell him he has to start with book one, course I bet he would love to jump right into book seven!
Thank you for the excerpt from book eight! Can’t wait!!!!!
Is it weird that just reading these excerpts is making my heart pound? haha
Every book of this series is amazing, probably the best books I’ve ever read (and that’s saying something, because I am constantly reading) and I wouldn’t change a thing about them. There’s the perfect amount of passion, romance, action, and maybe best of all, the small moments that really aren’t crucial to the storyline at all but that lets us get to know the characters on a personal level.
I went to one of your book signings in Phoenix at the Biltmore last year and heard you talk about how you write a book, that it’s almost like a puzzle: you do a bit here and a bit there, and move it around to fit together and fill in the gaps (which, btw, really inspired me because up until then, I had pretty much given up on ever finishing anything that I wrote because I couldn’t start at the beginning and write straight through to the end, so this opened up whole new worlds of possibility for me). And even though waiting until the next book comes out makes me feel like I haven’t heard from dear friends (who are in mortal danger) in a long time, I’m grateful that you take your time on each novel and don’t rush them for the sake of convenience. The attention to detail you put in every piece of your work really pays off, and I just want to thank you for it.