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It was a cold, gray day— there is no other kind in Scotland in December— when the Artemis touched at Cape Wrath, on the northwest coast.
And because there is casting news its a TwoferTuesday!
Gabaldon, Diana (2004-10-26). Voyager (Outlander, Book 3) (p. 521). Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition
I whirled to look, and saw what had caused him to break off. Fergus was on deck, reaching up to help down a girl perched awkwardly above him on the railing, her long blond hair whipping in the wind. Laoghaire’s daughter— Marsali MacKimmie. Before I could speak, Jamie was past me and striding toward the pair. “What in the name of holy God d’ye mean by this, ye wee coofs?” he was demanding, by the time I made my way into earshot through the obstacle course of lines and seamen. He loomed menacingly over the pair, a foot taller than either of them. “We are married,” Fergus said, bravely...
And here is Ron Moore's version of Marsali!
“Well, Godspeed to ye, Mayer Red-Shield,” he said, smiling. “Jamie,” I said, suddenly thinking of something, “do you speak German?” “Eh? Oh, aye,” he said vaguely, his attention still fixed on the window and the noises outside. “What is ‘red shield’ in German?” I asked. He looked blank for a moment, then his eyes cleared as his brain made the proper connection. “Rothschild, Sassenach,” he said. “Why?” “Just a thought,” I said. I looked toward the window, where the clatter of wooden shoes was long since lost in the noises of the street. “I suppose everyone has to start somewhere.”