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eVersion 1.1 - see revision notes at end of text Dragonfly In Amber Diana Gabladon BOOK 2 IN THE OUTLANDER SERIES
EBook Design Group digital back-up edition v1 HTML March 26, 2003
CONTENTS o Prologue o Part One - Through a Looking Glass, Darkly o Part Two - The Pretenders o Part Three - Malchance o Part Four - Scandale o Part Five - "I Am Come Home" o Part Six - The Flames of Rebellion o Part Seven - Hindsight
For my husband, Doug Watkins- in thanks for the Raw Material
Prologue ^ " I woke three times in the dark predawn. First in sorrow, then in joy, and at last, in solitude. The tears of a bone-deep loss woke me slowly, bathing my face like the comforting touch of a damp cloth in soothing hands. I turned my face to the wet pillow and sailed a saltry river into the caverns of grief remembered, into the subterranean depths of sleep. I came awake then in fierce joy, body arched bowlike in the throes of physical joining, the touch of him fresh on my skin, dying along the paths of my nerves as the ripples of consummation spread from my center. I repelled consciousness, turning again, seeking the sharp, warm smell of a man's satisfied desire, in the reassuring arms of my lover, sleep. The third time I woke alone, beyond the touch of love or grief. The sight of the stones was fresh in my mind. A small circle, standing stones on the crest of a steep green hill. The name of the hill is Craigh na Dun; the fairies' hill. Some say the hill is enchanted, others say it is cursed. Both are right. But no one knows the function or the purpose of the stones. Except me.
Part One "Through a Looking Glass, Darkly" " ^ " Inverness,1968 * 1 - Mustering the Roll * 2 - The Plot Thickens * 3 - Mothers and Daughters * 4 - Culloden * 5 - Beloved Wife
1 Mustering the Roll " ^ " Roger Wakefield stood in the center of the room, feeling surrounded. He thought the feeling largely justified, insofar as he was surrounded: by tables covered with bric-a-brac and mementos, by heavy Victorian-style furniture, replete with antimacassars, plush and afghans, by tiny braided rugs that lay on the polished wood, craftily awaiting an opportunity to skid beneath an unsuspecting foot. Surrounded by twelve rooms of furniture and clothing and papers. And the books-my God, the books! The study where he stood was lined on three sides by bookshelves, every one crammed past bursting point. Paperback mystery novels lay in bright, tatty piles in front of calf-bound tomes, jammed cheek by jowl with book-club s ............

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