All language subtitles for Outlander.S07E12_Subtitles03

Previously...

You've returned to service.

I have resigned my commission,

but the uniform
is mine to wear.

I do so for intimidation.

He's protecting me, ma'am.

It wasn't me
who you were making love to.

Well, nor were you, I think,

making love to me.

No.

Claire!

How in God's name
are you alive?

I hate to break up
such a joyous reunion,

but your son is due home
shortly.

"Son"?

Your baptismal name is James.

It was the only name
I had a right to give ye.

You knew, didn't you?

There he is!

One more step,
and he's a dead man.

We won't be safe
until we leave the city.

The patrols willna venture
that far.

May I ask what it is
that you were doing

to have soldiers on your heels?

Ye're sure ye want to know?

It's likely better ye don't.

Soldiers were inspectin' folk
enterin' the city.

My papers were in order,

but some ox-head didna like
the look o' them, I suppose,

and wanted to search me.

And that was a problem
because...

There was something
upon my person

I preferred
he did not discover.

I see.

I'm surprised
you allowed yourself

to be cornered by them,

your instincts being
what they are.

Aye, well, even foxes grow old.

Why didn't you run
to the edge of town?

Why the devil
did you come to my house?

My wife.

I learned that
the Euterpe had sunk.

I kent Claire would be worried,

so I needed to assure her
I was alive.

Come.

We'll procure some horses.

Should anyone ask later,

I forced you to come with me.

Are we understood?

We are.

Thank ye, John.

Didna have time to say it
earlier,

but I'm grateful for ye,

for taking care of Claire.

Claire.

Ah.

Yes.

Gravely sorry...

William had to learn
our secret.

We'll find the lad,

explain to him.

Of course.

Are ye quite well, John?

Ye look a wee bit pale.

I have had carnal knowledge
of your wife.

Oh?

Why?

"Why?"

You say, "Why?"

Aye, I did.

I'd, uh...

appreciate an answer.

Well, what do you bloody mean,
"Why?"

I thought you were dead.

So did your wife.

Do you have the faintest idea

what the knowledge
of your death did to her?

Are ye implying
the news of my death

deranged her to such an extent

that she lost her reason

and took ye to her bed
by force?

Unless I've been
seriously misled

regardin' yer own nature.

Or am I wrong?

You are not misled.

But you are wrong.

Ye went to her with desire?

And she let ye?

I dinna believe it.

We thought you were dead,
you bloody arsehole!

Both of us!

And--and we--we--

we had too much to drink
one night, and...

damn you, neither one of us
was making love to the other.

We were both fucking you!

♪ Sing me a song ♪

♪ Of a lass that is gone ♪

♪ Say, could that lass ♪

♪ Be I? ♪

♪ Merry of soul ♪

♪ She sailed on a day ♪

♪ Over the sea ♪

♪ To Skye ♪

♪ Billow and breeze ♪

♪ Islands and seas ♪

♪ Mountains of rain and sun ♪

♪ All that was good ♪

♪ All that was fair ♪

♪ All that was me ♪

♪ Is gone ♪

♪ Sing me a song ♪

♪ Of a lass that is gone ♪

♪ Say, could that lass ♪

♪ Be I? ♪

♪ Merry of soul ♪

♪ She sailed on a day ♪

♪ Over the sea ♪

♪ To Skye ♪

♪ Sing me a song ♪

♪ Of a lass that is gone ♪

♪ Say, could that lass ♪

♪ Be I? ♪

May I come in?

I wish to speak to you.

I imagine you do.

Please.

Would you like some brandy?

It's good for shock.

No.

I'm not sure
what to call you...

under--
under the circumstances.

Well, I would hope

that our relationship
hasn't changed.

And after all, I suppose I...

I still am your stepmother,

regardless of the situation.

I suppose you knew?

Yes.

Jamie...

he told me
the circumstances of your birth

some years ago.

Tell me.

Your mother--

She was reckless.

Everyone says she was reckless.

Was it...

I suppose I only want to know,

was it rape?

No.

Are you certain
he did not lie to you?

Yes, I am certain.

Good.

Do you think...

Did--did he say...

Did they love each other?

I think as much
as they could have.

They only had the one night.

I--I see.

I was--I was born

almost exactly nine months
after my parents' marriage.

Did they deceive
the man she was to marry?

Or did my mother play the whore
with her groom after she wed?

I think that's a little harsh.

No. No, it's not.

Which is it?

Jamie would never deceive
another man in his marriage.

My father...

...Lord John, I mean...

...he knew all along?

Yes.

And Isabel too.

But they only wanted
the best for you.

The best for me.

It's the truth.

No, the truth is that
everyone lied to me.

My entire life is a lie.

- William--
- No.

Don't you bloody tell me
any more.

God damn it!

Tell me exactly what happened,
ye filthy pervert.

Everything.

No.

Go ahead and kill me.

Gentlemen!

Who're you?

Colonel James Fraser,
Morgan's Rifles.

And you are?

Corporal Jethro Woodbine,

Dunning's Rangers.

Who's your prisoner?

I am Lord John Grey.

If it's any business of yours.

You're not wearing a uniform.

Are you a soldier?

We got no business with you
if you're not.

But if Colonel Fraser's
taken you prisoner,

I reckon he has reason.

He is a soldier.

I remember him.

I saw him in Philadelphia,

sittin' on the porch of a house
on Chestnut Street,

in his uniform.

This man is not a soldier.

I saw him, plain as day.

He had silver lacing.

He's an officer.

You got anything to say
for yourself, Mr. Grey?

Lord John.

And yes, I was a soldier,

but my commission
is no longer active,

nor has it been for years.

Is that sufficient,
or do you want to know

what I had for breakfast
this morning?

He's not a soldier.

He's my prisoner because
I wanted to question him.

About what?

A personal matter.

It's none of your concern,
Mr. Woodbine.

I will be the judge
of what is my business.

How do we know you are
who you say you are?

You aren't wearing
a uniform either.

Any of you fellas know
this man?

No.

Well, then.

If you can't prove who you are,

we'll take your prisoner
back to camp

and question him ourselves.

Maybe we ought to take you too.

Take him.

I have business elsewhere.

We are not finished, sir.

No.

We are not.

And I am not bloody sorry!

You said
you were Lord John Grey.

I am.

Bloody refer to me,
you can call me "my lord"

or "sir," if you like.

What do you want?

Search him.

Firstly, we want to know
if General Charles Grey

is any kin to you.

He's a cousin of some sort.

You stated that you don't hold
an active commission

in His Majesty's army
at present?

That is correct.

Then would you care
to explain to me

this document, "my lord"?

I--I have just received that,

and I have not had time
to read it,

nor have I accepted
the commission.

Told you he's a soldier.
Not only a soldier.

He's a spy.

Goin' about
not wearin' a uniform.

We could hang him out o' hand,
this minute.

- Yes, sir! Yes!
- Hang him now.

We're taking him back to camp.

What good would it do
to hang him here?

- One less Redcoat?
- Bloody Redcoats!

- Yes!
- Seems like a good thing to me.

You heard what he said.

General Charles Grey
is kin to him.

Colonel Smith will want
to hang him in camp

for all to see.

Remember Paoli!

Remember Paoli!

What the devil is Paoli?

Bastard!

Bastard.

Bastard!

Who's a bastard?

I am.

Oh, really?

I'm partial to bastards myself.

What kind of bastard are you?

A wicked one?

An evil one?

A sorry one.

Come in.

You look as though
you could do with a drink.

First things first.

Throw off your coat
before you suffocate.

I'll, uh...

fetch us a drink, shall I,

while you wash up.

Papa...

you bloody liar.

I need a moment.

Please go away.

Let me pour you a drink,

and you can tell me
all about it.

I meant the water
for your injured hand,

not your cock.

I will say, you are
a true gentleman, though.

I am not.

Is it an insult
to call you a gentleman?

You bastard!

- Ned!
- I'm sorry.

- I'm sorry!
- Ned!

I didn't mean to--

Ah!

Oh, bloody hell.

Get out now!

I'm here to see Colonel Morgan.

Tell him
it's Colonel James Fraser.

Colonel Fraser.

Colonel Morgan.

On your way to a wedding?

What?

Ah, this.

My commander's a stickler
for proper dress.

I uh, brought something
that may be of interest

to our army's high command,

from our friends in France.

Could you spare a quarter hour?

I want you to meet someone.

Look who I've brought you,
General.

This'll be Colonel Fraser,
who I've mentioned before.

George Washington.

A pleasure, sir.

James Fraser.

Your most obedient servant, sir.

Have I had the honor of
your acquaintance once before?

Aye.

We met in Wilmington
at the theater.

I was a guest
of Governor Tryon.

That dreadful play
my wife forced me to attend.

I've never forgiven her.

Colonel Fraser recently
returned from Scotland

and brought us
some correspondence.

I had occasion
to travel to France,

thought you'd be glad
to receive word

of the generous contributions
to our cause.

Remarkable.

You did this
of your own accord?

Aye.

Sit with me, Colonel Fraser.

You're aware that
Clinton is preparing

to withdraw from Philadelphia?

I heard an evacuation
is already in progress.

I'm impressed with your cunning

in securing these documents.

You took a Loyalist favor

and turned it
into a boon for us.

And Colonel Morgan has
extolled your bravery

on the battlefield at Saratoga.

Will you do me the honor

of accepting command
of a battalion?

I, uh...

I'd be exceedingly honored, sir.

Very well, then.

You're appointed
Brigadier General.

Thank ye, sir.

Although, the Congress

will have to approve
your appointment,

and there's no guarantee
as to what those contentious,

shopkeeping
sons of bitches will do.

Congratulations,
General Fraser.

Look!

It's William.

William!

Miss Hunter.

Well met.

Mr. Murray.

Thee looks tired, William.

I'm assisting
with the evacuation

of Loyalist civilians
from the city.

Where have the two of you
traveled from?

We went to see some Quakers
near Valley Forge

to ask if they'd allow
a marriage at their meetin'.

Unfortunately,
they weren't amenable,

but we'll find a place.

A marriage?

We are betrothed, Ian and I.

Are you?

Well, I suppose

I must wish you
every happiness, then.

Good day.

Wait, we'd like to--

William Ransom!

What the devil
does thee mean by this?

I beg your pardon, sir.

That was reprehensible.

I shall leave you.

Miss Hunter.

William, what is it?

Have I done something?

You have not done anything.

You could never do
anything that...

But you.

You son of a bitch.

You lied to me too, cousin.

You know.

Yes, I damn well know.

You could have told me.

Know what?

Don't you tell her,
God damn it.

Of course he'll tell me.

Or does thee not wish
to tell me thyself?

It isna really a disgrace.

You do not think so?

To discover that I'm--

that I am the get
of a Scottish criminal?

That I am a bastard?

Criminal, forbye!

Any man might be proud
to be the son of James Fraser.

Oh.

That.

What the devil do you mean,
"That"?

It doesn't surprise me,
that's all.

When I look closely,
I can see a resemblance.

Well, it was a bloody
surprise to me.

And damn the resemblance!

Ian! Stop!

Both of you, stop!

William!

Take him!

He's under arrest
for assaulting an officer.

How dare thee!

This is none
of your concern, madam.

Take him. Now.

Thee is a coward and a brute.

What possessed thee to--

What possessed your--

your betrothed?

Did I attack him? No.

Yes, thee did!

Thee struck him in the mouth

without the slightest
provocation.

And he hit me
without the least warning.

If anyone is a coward, it's--

Don't thee dare call
Ian Murray a coward.

I'll call him
what I bloody like,

what he bloody is.

Like his goddamned uncle.

Thy father.

Do not call him my father.

If thee does not undo this,
William Ransom, I will.

You will what?

You are a Quaker.

You do not believe in violence.

Ergo, you cannot, or at least
will not, strike me.

Now thee has doomed
thy kinsman,

repudiated thy father,

and caused me
to betray my principles.

What next?

Bloody hell.

I'll inform His Lordship.

Thank you, Lieutenant.

It's a shame the chandelier
can't be saved.

I never knew my sweet William
had such a temper.

Well, the apple doesn't fall
far from the tree, it appears.

We're going to have to replace
that mirror too.

I'll try, Lady John--

pardon me.

Mistress Fraser.

But it'll take a miracle

to find anyone willing
to do the work.

Folks are fleeing the city.

They say the troops are leaving

and the Rebels
will be here soon.

Well, let's not borrow trouble
just yet.

There's already trouble,
Mistress.

A soldier just came
to fetch His Lordship,

says the letter
he brought yesterday

said General Clinton wanted
Lord John to come at once,

and he's wondering why
he hasn't arrived.

Why is General Clinton
so interested

in Lord John's whereabouts?

He's not currently serving
in the army.

Apparently, he is.

The General sent notice of it
with the letter.

His Lordship has been
recalled to duty.

The prisoner, sir.

Ah!

Well done, Corporal.

You are dismissed.

Sir.

I will not plague you
with questions,

as I know you will not wish
to answer them,

but in the interest
of civil conversation,

should you wish to make
any inquiries of me,

I should not take offense.

Well, that's very gracious
of you, sir.

Is it that you wish to justify
your present allegiance?

For when last we met,
in London,

in my sister-in-law's
drawing room

over cucumber sandwiches,

you were a captain in
the Royal East Kent Regiment,

and not of such
a treasonous bent.

That was not my intent, sir.

Oh.

Then I do apologize.

Well, I rather thought
you might be curious

as to what I propose
to do with you.

Oh, that.

Well, I'd quite forgotten
in the surprise of seeing you.

Woodbine seems to think
I should be hanged,

both on the charge of spying
and on the more serious charge

of being related
to the General Charles Grey,

whom I gather
committed some atrocity

at a place called Paoli.

Grey and his troops

sneaked up
to General Wayne's camp.

Grey didn't want to risk
a stray flint sparking

giving them away,
so he gave the order

to take out the flints
from all the guns

and use the bayonets.

They fell upon the Americans

and killed a hundred men
in their beds,

in cold blood.

And "Paoli"?

The name of a tavern nearby.

The Paoli Massacre,
they call it.

Do you deny being a spy?

Oh, don't be ridiculous, Smith.

What on Earth would I be doing
spying in a deserted wood?

I have no secret papers,

no evidence whatever of spying.

Doubtless
you committed to memory

any information you had gained.

I recall you have
a prodigious memory.

Did you meet
with Colonel Fraser

to pass on information,

or was he passing it to you?

Perhaps you have
a treasonous bent as well.

Certainly not.

The encounter was of a...

purely personal nature.

General Wayne will hang you,
you know.

Because of Paoli.

Nonsense.

Whatever one may think
of the American high command,

I doubt it is composed
entirely of fools.

My execution would yield
nothing,

whereas my cooperation
might be of value.

My brother does hold some
small influence in Parliament.

An excellent argument,
Lord John,

and one I'm sure
would find favor

with General Washington.

I'll send word to him.

Now, let's get you
to the medical tent, hmm?

Corporal!

Keep moving.

Jamie?

I thought...

Aye.
I'll explain later.

But what's happened to Ian?

Where are they taking him?

You.

Come aside with me.

Now!

What the devil
are you doing here?

Close yer mouth and listen,

because I'm gonna tell you
what to do.

You are not telling me
anything!

Yes, I am.

Ye're gonna find
the men with Ian

and tell them to set him free.

If you dinna,
I'll go down to the camp,

tell the captain who you are,

and explain the reason
for the fight.

Do I make myself clear, lad?

I am expected to return
to Philadelphia tonight.

After Ian is released.

Yes!

I will do it.

Yer word.

You have my word.

God damn you, sir.

God damn you to hell.

Nae doubt.

John Grey?

Dr. Hunter.

Colonel Smith has summoned me
to attend to thee.

Is thee able to look up?

Now try to look down.

There is a great deal
of swelling.

Whoever struck thee did so
with a good deal of force.

How bad is the pain?

Everything from my scalp
to my chin hurts.

There's bleeding
on the surface of the eye.

Thy eyeball is crimson,
as is the lining of thy eyelid.

It's rather... dramatic.

How long till it goes away?

Between a week
and a month to clear.

Thee will need to wear
an eye patch.

I can make thee one.

My worry is the inability
to move the eye.

I-I fear thee has
a fracture of the bony orbit,

which is trapping
the ocular muscle.

I do wish thy wife were here.

She has much greater
understanding--

My wife?

Oh.

Oh, Claire isn't
my wife anymore.

Jamie Fraser isn't dead.

He's the one who hit me.

But I was asking for it.

Doctor!

What do you say, Doctor?

Can he be moved?

It would be dangerous.

A further extravasation
of blood into the brain...

I cannot answer
for the consequences

should he be moved abruptly.

Very well, then.

If Mohammed cannot go
to the mountain,

the mountain will jolly well
have to come here.

I'll send a note
to General Wayne.

Do what you can to see
that he's coherent.

Why?

Get it done.

Come along, Ellesmere.
Come on.

Let's make a few more memories

to see us through
the long nights up north, eh?

Yeah.

Ever buggered a girl?

Too dear for my purse.

What you want's
a girl that hates it.

They clamp down,
trying to get rid of you.

But they can't.

Then you take her hand

and make her reach back
and feel you.

God, the squirming.

Milk you like a dairymaid,
she will.

Mind, you don't want one
who's used to it.

You want her tight.

But then you don't want one

who's never had it before, either.

Better if she knows
what's coming, eh?

I'll take this one, please.

For the night.

Arabella's mine.

I'm sure Madge will find

another young lady
to accommodate you.

I'm before you, sir.

He is, Captain Harkness.

He's already offered
for the girl,

as you hadn't made up
your mind...

I'll have her.

For the night.

For the night.

I will not hurt you.

I didn't mean to, last time.

You didn't hurt me.

You spoilt my best gown,
though,

and a decanter of wine.

Cost me a beating
and a week's wages.

Forgive me.

There is little I can do
about the beating, but I--

I will certainly pay
for the wine and the gown.

I truly am sorry.

Well...

William, you said your name is?

Yes.

Is your name really Arabella?

No.

I am a fancy piece, though,

and Madge thinks the fancies
should have names like...

...well, like ladies.

I am indeed acquainted
with more than one Arabella.

Though, one of them is six,

and the other's 82.

Do you want me
to send for wine?

Only, if you want
to do anything,

I really think
you'd best stay off the drink.

I don't want wine, no.

But nor do I want to--to...

It is not true.

I- I do want to.

Very much.

But I'm not going to.

Why not?

You've paid well over anything
you might want to do tonight.

Including buggery,
if that's your pleasure.

You think I would save you
from Captain Harkness,

just to do it myself?

Men don't often
think of somethin'

until another mentions it,

and then they are all eagerness
to try it themselves.

You must have
a most indifferent opinion

of gentlemen, madam.

But I do take your point.

Well, that's a novelty.

It's usually
the other way around.

My father once
told me he knew a madam

who assured him that
a good night's sleep

is the best gift
you can give a whore.

I'll sleep here.

Runs in the family,
then, does it?

Frequenting brothels?

He's right, though.

Do you really mean that
you intend for me to sleep?

Well, you can sing songs

or stand on your head,
if you prefer.

I do not propose to, uh...

molest you.

Beyond that, your conduct
is quite up to you.

Arabella?

What?

What is your real name?

Jane.

Good night, then, Jane.

Come and get into bed,
you idiot.

What's the matter?

You're wiggling
as though you've got

tadpoles in your britches.

No.

I will not bother you.

I meant it.

If you bother me,
I'll tell you to stop.

How's that?

No. It's a matter of honor.

Unhand my...

Unhand me, if you please.

I'm a bastard.

Do you understand?

The only honor I have left
is my word.

I must keep it.

Why did you make me
break my word?

Ever think maybe a whore
has a sense of honor too?

John, is thee feeling better?

I brought thee a bit of stew.

Thee may eat as much
as is comfortable.

Oh, thank you.

Here, I brought thee a spoon.

The stew is boiling.

Be careful.

Thee must go.

What? Why?

Colonel Smith has sent
for General Wayne.

They're going to hang thee.

But he assured me they would...

He told me that thee is
worth more dead than alive.

There's no time.

Thee must leave. Tonight.

Hide in my wagon.

I'm going for supplies
tomorrow.

- No.
- There will be no suspicion--

No, I couldn't possibly
put you at risk.

I will go on foot.

But thee must--

The main road lies
southwest of the camp,

about four miles away.

God go with thee.

There you are.

Where the hell have you been?

Ye look well, Sassenach.

You don't.

How did you get in?

Mrs. Figg let me in
on her way out for the night.

Ye went to bed
with John Grey, aye?

Well, I wouldn't say that, exactly.

He told me ye did.

He told me
he had carnal knowledge of ye.

Then he asked me to kill him.

Why would he lie
about such a thing?

I suppose
"carnal knowledge" is...

a very reasonable description
of what happened.

Where are you going?

Where are you going?

Jamie.

Was it here?

Yes, but going to bed, no.

For one thing,
well, it happened,

as far as I can remember,
on the floor.

And for another, well,
that term makes it seem like

we made some sort of decision
to make love to one another,

and that's not
what happened at all.

Please,
let's go back downstairs.

What did happen?

If you really must know...

...I was sitting there,

drinking brandy and...

trying to justify
killing myself.

I ran out of brandy and...

I was thinking whether or not

I would go looking
for some more

or drink an entire bottle
of laudanum.

That's when John came in.

He did say
drink had been taken.

Yes.

Quite a lot.

He seemed to be
as drunk as I was, but...

...he somehow managed
to still be on his feet.

He had the look of a man

about to throw himself
off a cliff.

And then he said,

"I will not mourn him
alone tonight."

And?

And he didn't.

I couldn't bear to be alone,

and I couldn't bear
for him to be alone,

and I--I--

I don't know exactly
what happened,

but I...

I grabbed him, I think,

because I very much
needed somebody

to touch me in that moment.

And he obliged ye, I take it.

Did he bugger you?

You absolute bastard.

You didn't kill him, did you?

Would ye mind if I did?

Yes, I bloody well would.

No, but you--you didn't.

I know you wouldn't.

No.

Ye don't know that.

And I would have been
within my rights.

No, you wouldn't.

You didn't have any rights.

You were dead.

I loved ye since I saw you,
Sassenach.

I will love ye forever.

It doesna matter if ye sleep
with the whole British army--

well, no, it would matter,

but it wouldna stop me
from loving you.

Well, I didn't think it would.

I was under the impression
he only told me

because he was certain
you would.

Well, I would have.

But I might have waited
for you to come home

and have a bath
and some supper.

When was the last time you ate?

Dinna change the subject,
Sassenach.

I understand, but I want--

I need to know what happened.

You understand?

Aye.

Ye both thought I was dead.

And I ken what ye're like
when ye're drunk, Sassenach.

How dare you!

Am I no'
the aggrieved party here?

No, you aren't.

I didna mean to imply
ye're a drunkard, Sassenach.

It's only ye--
ye think wi' yer body, Claire.

Ye always have.

Oh, I'm a--

what am I now?

A whore?

I've taken ye to bed
a thousand times at least.

Did ye not think
I was paying attention?

Two or three thousand times
at least.

And no.

When I lost you,
after Culloden...

I kent ye weren't dead,
but that made it all the worse.

I told ye about Mary MacNab,
how she came to me in the cave.

But I didn't blame you for that

or ask you
for any of the gory details.

Well, maybe ye weren't jealous.

I am.

I would tell ye, though,
how it was,

if ye wanted to know it.

I'd tell ye
it was tender and sad.

Both of us mourning things
that were lost.

Well, it wasn't tender.

And it wasn't sad.

It should have been,
but it wasn't.

I don't know what it was.

I don't think I had
any conscious thoughts.

Well, what did he give ye, then?

Something to hit.

At least in the beginning.

Ye hit him?

Yes.

No, I was--

I was hitting you.

And it was--it was a blur.

I don't know
what happened next.

There should be a word
for what John gave me,

but I- I don't know
what that is yet.

But violence was a part of it.

I was numb.

I couldn't bear to feel.

But he could.

He had more courage than I did.

And he made me feel that.

And--and that's why I hit him.

It was triage.

You--you do triage.

You stop the bleeding first.

You stop the bleeding
or the patient dies.

And that's what he did, he--

he stopped it by placing
his grief over mine.

Damn him.

He is all right, isn't he?

Aye.

Well uh,

I'm sure he is.

Well, where the bloody hell
is he?

General Clinton
has sent for him.

They've reactivated
his commission.

What the hell did you do
to him, Jamie?

I hit him.

More than once.

He said something,
and I hit him.

He said the two of ye werna
making love to one another.

We weren't.
I told you. We were--

Fucking me, he said.

It's the truth.

Jamie, talk to me.

When Geneva died
and it was my fault...

...it was a knife in my heart.

Then William...

the bairn cut me right open,

spilled my guts out
into my hands.

That bloody Englishman
bandaged me...

...wi' his friendship.

No.

No, I didna kill him.

I--I dinna ken
if I'm glad of it or no',

but I didna.

Well, I'm glad.

I'll not say I dinna mind this,
because I do.

And I'll not say
I willna make a fuss

about this later,
because I will.

But there is nothing
in this world or the next

that can take ye from me
or me from you.

D'ye disagree?

No.

Good,

because it willna do ye
any good if ye did.

I have one more question.

Are ye my wife?

How could I not be?

Then I'm done with talking.

- Here?
- Shh.

There's no one home.

May as well be hung for sheep
as lambs.

Wait.

Kiss me first.

Are ye in a position
to make demands, d'ye think?

Yes, I am.

I'm your wife.

God's blood.

Guards!

The prisoner has escaped!

Find him!

After him!

Spread out!