Voyager [Paperback]

"Triumphant ...her use of historical detail and a truly adult love story confirm Gabaldon as a superior writer."—Publishers WeeklyINVERNESS
MAY 2 , 1968

Of course he’s dead!’’ Claire’s voice was sharp with agitation; it rang loudly in the half-empty study, echoing among the rifled bookshelves. She stood against the cork-lined wall like a prisoner awaiting a firing squad, staring from her daughter to Roger Wakefield and back again.

‘‘I don’t think so.’’ Roger felt terribly tired. He rubbed a hand over his face, then picked up the folder from the desk; the one containing all the research he’d done since Claire and her daughter had first come to him, three weeks before, and asked his help. He opened the folder and thumbed slowly through the contents. The Jacobites of Culloden. The Rising of the ’45. The gallant Scots who had rallied to the banner of Bonnie Prince Charlie, and cut through Scotland like a blazing sword—only to come to ruin and defeat against the Duke of Cumberland on the gray moor at Culloden. ‘‘Here,’’ he said, plucking out several sheets clipped together. The archaic writing looked odd, rendered in the black crispness of a photocopy. ‘‘This is the muster roll of the Master of Lovat’s regiment.’’

He thrust the thin sheaf of papers at Claire, but it was her daughter, Brianna, who took the sheets from him and began to turn the pages, a slight frown between her reddish brows.

‘‘Read the top sheet,’’ Roger said. ‘‘Where it says ‘Officers.’ ’’

‘‘All right. ‘Officers,’ ’’ she read aloud, ‘‘ ‘Simon, Master of Lovat’ . . .’’

‘‘The Young Fox,’’ Roger interrupted. ‘‘Lovat’s son. And five more names, rilă!