I wish they had included the part about his cock in this dialogue 🤣 . Copied from the book
Have ye got a penny, a nighean?” said Jamie, next to me.
“A what?”
“Well, any sort of money will do.”
“I don’t think so, but …” I rummaged in the pocket tied at my waist, which by this point in our preparations held nearly
as large a collection of improbabilities as did Jamie’s sporran. Among hanks of thread, twists of paper containing
seeds or dried herbs, needles stuck through bits of leather, a small jar full of sutures, a woodpecker’s black-and-white-
spotted feather, a chunk of white chalk, and half a biscuit,which I had evidently been interrupted while eating, I did in
fact discover a grubby half-shilling, covered in lint and biscuit crumbs.
“That do you?” I asked, wiping it off and handing it over.
“It will,” he said, and held out something toward me. Myhand closed automatically over what turned out to be the
handle of a knife, and I nearly dropped it in surprise.
“Ye must always give money for a new blade,” he explained, half smiling. “So it kens ye for its owner, awillna turn on ye.”
“Its owner?”
The sun was touching the edge of the Ridge, but there was still plenty of light, and I looked at my new acquisition.
It was a slender blade, but sturdy, single-edged and beautifully honed; the cutting edge shone silver in thedying sun. The hilt was made from a deer’s antler, smooth and warm in my hand—and had been carved with two small depressions, these just fitting my grip. Plainly it was myknife.
“Thank you,” I said, admiring it. “But—”
“Ye’ll feel safer if ye have it by you,” he said, matter-of-fact. “Oh—just the one more thing. Give it here.”
I handed it back, puzzled, and was startled to see him draw the blade lightly across the ball of his thumb. Blood
welled up from the shallow cut, and he wiped it on his breeches and stuck his thumb in his mouth, handing me back
the knife.
“Ye blood a blade, so it knows its purpose,” he explained, taking the wounded digit out of his mouth.
The hilt of the knife was still warm in my hand, but a small chill went through me. With rare exceptions, Jamie wasn’t
given to purely romantic gestures. If he gave me a knife, he thought I’d need it. And not for digging up roots and hacking
tree bark, either. Know its purpose, indeed.
“It fits my hand,” I said, looking down and stroking thesmall groove that fit my thumb. “How did you know to make
it so exactly?”
He laughed at that. “I’ve had your hand round my cock often enough to know
the measure of your grip, Sassenach,” he assured me.
I snorted briefly in response to this, but turned the blade and pricked the end of my own thumb with the point. It was
amazingly sharp; I scarcely felt it, but a bead of dark-red blood welled up at once. I put the knife into my belt, took his
hand, and pressed my thumb to his.
“Blood of my blood,” I said.
I didn’t make romantic gestures, either.