- Outlander -The Best Jamie & Claire Quotes From 'Go Tell The Bees That I Am Gone'
No matter the time or place, the one constant of Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series is Claire and Jamie's love for one another. That's no different in the ninth book of the series, Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone. The best Jamie and Claire quotes in Bees highlight their continued devotion to one another... and are just begging to be embroidered on some merchandise or tattooed onto fans' bodies.
Major spoilers ahead for Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone.
The start of Bees sees Claire and Jamie being reunited with Bree, Roger, and their grandchildren where they enjoy some much-deserved peace on the Ridge. But for all the tender family moments and one-on-one time in the bedroom (or the forest floor), there's still their past, present, and future traumas that impact the love the Frasers share. Yet, even when Claire and Jamie are in conflict, their love for one another is still apparent. Because nothing — not the lingering presence of Lord John Grey, war, Frank's ghost, or even death — can tear these two apart.
Without further ado, here are the most romantic Claire and Jamie quotes in Bees. You'll never think of bees' feet the same way again.
1. More Important Than Food
"Some things are more important than food, Sassenach." His hand settled firmly on my arse. "And finding out whether I could ever be ye again was more important than anything else just then. I reckoned if I couldn't, I'd just walk on out into the snow and not come back."
2. I Was Givin' Ye A Child
"I wanted..." he whispered. "I wanted you. Had to have ye. But once I was inside yet, I wanted..."
He sighed then, deep, and moved deeper.
"I thought I'd die of it, then and there. And I wanted to. Wanted to go — while I was inside of ye." His voice had changed, still soft but somehow distant, detached — and I knew he'd moved away from the present moment, gone back to the stone cold dark and the panic, the fear and overwhelming need.
"I wanted to spill myself into ye and let that be the last I ever knew, but then I started, and I kent it wasna meant to be that way — that I'd live, but that I would keep myself inside ye forever. That I was givin' ye a child."
3. Like A Catamount
He rolled toward me, then scooted down the bed and lifted himself between my thighs.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, as he settled comfortably into position.
"I should think that was obvious, Sassenach."
"But you've just been eating apple pie!"
"It wasna that filling."
“That... wasn't quite what I meant..." His thumbs were thoughtfully stroking the tops of my thighs, and his warm breath was stirring the hairs on my body in a very disturbing way.
"If ye're afraid of crumbs, Sassenach, dinna fash — I'll pick them off after I've finished. Is it baboons ye said that do that? Or was it fleas?”
"I don't have fleas," was all I could manage in the way of a witty riposte, but he laughed, settled his shoulders, and set to work.
"I like it when ye scream, Sassenach," he murmured a little later, pausing for breath.
"There are children downstairs!" I hissed, fingers buried in his hair.
"Well, try to sound like a catamount, then..."
4. Cleaves My Heart
"What hurts you cleaves my heart," he said softly. "Ye ken that, aye?"
"What hurts you cleaves my heart, Jamie."
5. Not Lost Anymore
"But then ye found me, and ye weren't lost anymore, I hope?"
"I wasn't. I'm not."
6. Ye Rouse Me
"And when I think of it, and then I see you... I want to have ye, then and there. Ye rouse me, whether ye're slicing cucumbers or bathing naked in the creek wi' your hair loose. I want ye bed, Sassenach. But he's there in my head, and if— if—" Lost for words, he smashed a fist down on the fence rail and I felt the wood tremble by my shoulder.
"If I canna stand the notion that you and he were fucking me behind my back, how do ye think I can stand to think that you and I a sharing a bed w' him in it?"
7. Breaking Skin
"Have we got that out of our system, do you think?" I said drowsily.
"Our?" His right hand twitched, but he didn't pull it away.
He sighed deeply and turned his head toward me, opening his eyes.
"We have." He smiled a little and closed his eyes again, his chest rising and falling under my hand. I could feel his nipple through his shirt, small and still hard against my palm.
"Did I break the skin?"
"Ye do that every time ye touch me, Sassenach. I'm no bleeding, though."
We lay in silence for some time, and the sounds of crickets and the rustle of leaves flowed over us like water.
He spoke, quietly, and I turned my head, thinking I hadn't heard him aright, but I had. I just didn't know what language he was speaking.
"That isn't Gàidhlig, is it?" I asked dubiously, and he shook his head slowly, eyes still closed.
"Gaeilge," he said. "Irish. I heard it from Stephen O'Farrell, during the Rising. It just came back to me now."
"My body is out from my control," he said softly. "She was the half of my body — the very half of my soul."
8. Back To Life
"Ye healed me of something a good deal worse, Sassenach," he said, and touched my hand gently. He'd touched me with his right hand, the maimed one.
"I didn't," I protested. "You did that yourself — you had to. All I did was... err..."
"Drug me wi' opium and fornicate me back to life? Aye, that."
"Jamie," I said, a few moments later, raising my head. "What color is my hair?"
This was an absurd question; it was the depth of the night and we were standing in the pitch-black forest. But he made a small noise of appraisal and lifted my chin to look.
"All the colors o' the earth," he said, and smoothed the hair from my face. "But here, all about your face — it's the color of moonlight, mo ghràidh."
"Dinna be afraid, Sassenach," he said at last. "There's still the two of us."
11. Holding Your Feet, Part I
A subterranean quiver rippled through his body, and he lay down on top of me and eased both hands under my hips. His breath tickled warmly in my ear.
"I think I should like to sleep in a flower wi' you, Sassenach, holding your feet."
12. Mad Curls
"Claire was sat beside him on the bench, wee Mandy sound asleep on her lap, half draped over her arm like a sack of grain and just as heavy. He reached over and lifted the bairn, croodling her against his chest, and Claire bent toward him and rested her head on his shoulder for a moment, in gratitude. He saw her hair and Mandy's for a moment, their mad curls swirled together, and felt such love that he kent if he died just then, it would be fine."
13. An Egg
"Jamie," I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling. "If you love me... don't. Please don't. I can't bear it." I couldn't. I couldn't bear the thought of his being killed, but nor could I bear the thought of his hunting, performing execution. The sound of a rifle shot echoed in my head whenever I thought of the man he had killed, rousing other echoes — of that night, a heavy body in the dark, pain and terror and helpless suffocation.
"And I don't even bloody know if you shot him," I said abruptly, and sat down. "The man... whose name I don't know."
He looked at me for a moment, head on one side, then reached out delicately and scooped up a bit of yellow with a fingertip. He touched this to my lower lip and I licked it off by reflex: warm, savory, delicious.
"I love you," he said softly, and his hand cupped my cheek, big and warm. "As an egg loves salt. Dinna fash, mo chridhe. I'll think o' something."
14. Remember Me
"You said three things," I said at last. My voice was hoarse. "What's the third?"
He let go of my hand and opened my fingers, as I'd done for him a few moments before, but his fingertips traced the lines of my palm and rested at the base of my thumb, where the letter J had nearly faded into my skin.
"Remember me," he whispered.
15. No Afraid
"Dinna... fash, Sass..." He wheezed deeply. With tremendous effort, he opened his eyes and turned his head enough to look up at me.
"I'm... no... afraid," he whispered. "I'm not."
"Well, I'm bloody afraid!" I snapped, and tightened my hold on his thigh, digging my fingers into his unresisting flesh. "Do you think I"m just going to sit here and watch you die by inches?"
16. By Inches
"Listen to me," I said, after what seemed a long time. His face was closed and white and the rumble of the crowds reached me like distant thunder from a clear blue sky. I felt the sound move through me and I fixed my mind on the blue, vast and empty, patient, peaceful — waiting for him.
"Listen!" I said, and shook his arm, hard. "You think you're going to die by inches, but you're not. You're going to live by inches. With me."
17. Holding Your Feet, Part II
"I hear them!" he said. "Or at least I think I do..." He advanced cautiously, putting his ear close to the woven straw of the skep.
"Yes, you do," I said, amused at his expression. "Honeybees don't die in the winter and they don't really hibernate, either — so long as they have enough honey stored up to last them 'til spring. They cluster together and shiver to generate warmth, but otherwise they just eat and... sleep, I suppose."
"I can think o' worse ways to pass the winter," he said, and smiled. "Holdin' your feet."