The Scottish Prisoner by Diana GabaldonThe Scottish Prisoner by Diana Gabaldon

The Scottish Prisoner

byDiana Gabaldon

Hardcover | November 29, 2011

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In a novel featuring Outlander hero Jamie Fraser in a major role, #1 bestselling author Diana Gabaldon continues the Lord John series.

Jamie Fraser, a Scottish Jacobite officer paroled as a prisoner of war on an estate in the Lake District, finds the numbness of his days disturbed. First, by dreams of his dead wife, then by the presence of the small son he cannot claim. Much more disturbing is the sudden reappearance in his life of Lord John Grey, with a summons that will take him - again - from everything he values.

A legacy from a dead friend has led Lord John and his brother Hal in pursuit of a corrupt army officer, along a trail of politics and murder. The matter becomes critical when the trail leads into Ireland, with a baffling message left in the tongue called "Erse" - the language spoken by Scottish Highlanders.

Jamie is forced to help the Greys, in order to guard his own secrets. But the Greys have secrets, too, which may deprive him of his life, as well as his liberty.
DIANA GABALDON is the New York Times bestselling author of the popular Outlander novels - Outlander, Dragonfly in Amber, Voyager, Drums of Autumn, The Fiery Cross, A Breath of Snow and Ashes, and An Echo in the Bone - as well as the bestselling series featuring Lord John Grey, a character she introduced in Voyager, and one work of nonf...
Title:The Scottish PrisonerFormat:HardcoverDimensions:560 pages, 8.52 × 5.83 × 1.67 inPublished:November 29, 2011Publisher:Doubleday CanadaLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:0385660987

ISBN - 13:9780385660983

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Rated 4 out of 5 by from Good I tried outlander and did`t enjoy it as i had hoped maybe i need to give the story another chance, but i was hooked right away with the lord john stories. Great characters and stories, i love his friendship/journey with Jamie.
Date published: 2018-08-20
Rated 5 out of 5 by from A must read for Outlander fans After readind all the Outlander books available, I decided to try the John Grey novels. This one was by far my favorite, since half of the book is told from Jamie's perspective. We get his point of view for a good portion of the time when he was not with Claire (things that are not covered in the main novels). If you don't really have an interest in Jonh Grey, I would still recommend you read this one to supplement your Outlander journey. I flew through it.
Date published: 2018-07-17
Date published: 2018-02-02
Rated 3 out of 5 by from ok this was not what I was expecting at all, and I don't mean that in a positive way.
Date published: 2017-11-21
Rated 3 out of 5 by from Lord John and Jamie This book focuses on Lord John, of course, but also Jamie - and starts to build the friendship between the prison's governor and the intriguing prisoner.
Date published: 2017-01-26
Rated 3 out of 5 by from good True to herself. Nice story with lots of twists and turns. Nice historical setting and facts. Good read just a little long at times.
Date published: 2017-01-18
Rated 5 out of 5 by from The Scottish Prisoner As enjoyable as any other book in the Outlander series, with wonderful historical details and information. I recommend this series again and again.
Date published: 2017-01-17
Rated 5 out of 5 by from SCOTTISH PRISONER Amazing storytelling as only Herself can do! Wonderful to read how the deep frendship between Jamie and John truly began.
Date published: 2015-10-27
Rated 3 out of 5 by from A Good Side Novel A good read but in no comparison to the main Outlander series which is far superior... I found this novel less about the Scottish Prisoner and more about Lord John Grey
Date published: 2014-09-19
Rated 4 out of 5 by from The Scottish Prisoner Loved it! As a ardent fan of Outlander series , this did not disappoint. It is true to Gabaldon's style . Highly recommend
Date published: 2014-09-15
Rated 3 out of 5 by from Not as good I couldn't really get into this one until towards the end... Was finally getting going and it was over!
Date published: 2013-08-11
Rated 5 out of 5 by from My Jamie Bandaid Book Reviewed at Another Look Book Reviews In all of my book reviews that I have written, I've never reviewed a Diana Gabaldon book (up to this point). She is my writing hero, my author idol and her books are the go to books where I need an outlet to be transported away from real life. (check out my Fan Girl page if you don't believe me) I feel that I could never do her books justice and explain in my own amateur words how amazing her writing is and how much I adore her work. Can I convey that in a mere book review? Well, I'm going to try with The Scottish Prisoner. The Scottish Prisoner is not a sit down in one day and read a book novel. The hardcover is over 500 pages and I absorbed every_ last_ word. Diana Gabaldon books are not published frequently so there is no need to rush. This week while reading in the evening, when it was late and time to place in my bookmark, I'd look up and half expect to glance around and see that I'd been transported back in time. There were no candles lighting my bedroom and there were no maids scurrying in to start a fire. Her writing literally makes me feel as though I am there. She is so descriptive with scents, sounds and settings. I love how Diana Gabaldon does this to the senses and not with an overflow of overused regular adjectives. The descriptions are more real. Case in point Lord John and Jamie Fraser are sitting together in a greenhouse talking. Lord John takes a moment to think of what his next words will be and in the middle of his pause the reader is treated to this addition to the moment... “The grapevines had been cut back for winter, but the new spring growth was well sprouted, delicate rusty leaves deckling the rough-knuckled vines the roped through the arbor. A faint draft moved through the rich air of the glasshouse, ruffling the leaves.” And then the conversation between the men continued. I swear I am there with them. I am sitting in one of the basket chairs that they collapsed into and I am right along side of them. I can smell the earth and dirt. I can feel the breeze and pull my blanket around me more. We are treated to additional bits of setting moments like this throughout the book. It not only adds to the conversation but it deepens the reader's relationship with The Scottish Prisoner. As for the actual story of The Scottish Prisoner. It was marvelous. I enjoyed every one of those 500+ pages. Out of all the Lord John books I have read, The Scottish Prisoner is my favourite. I am sure that Jamie Fraser being a lead protagonist added to that love but truly the story itself was very engaging. I loved reading and having more insight of Jamie's time at Helwater, England. Experiencing those sacred moments that Jamie had with is son, William was worth The Scottish Prisoner alone. I felt the helplessness of Jamie not having any say into William's life but how much he treasured those gracious moments he was able to get. He would have made a wonderful father if he had the chance to have raised William (and Bree for that matter) I adored reading how calm he was and the route he always took when Willie was acting out his two year old spoiled self. No wonder Willie was so drawn to "Mac". He needed that strong male that he could hero worship towards. Lord John is such an amazing and complex character. He treats Jamie as an equal and you know he feels torn that he has to continue to hold Jamie as The Scottish Prisoner. He'd much rather be friends and he battles himself daily on the feelings he carries for Jamie. This moment below is so touching and is a huge milestone between Jamie and John. Diana chose it as an ending to chapter. The double meaning of it being a chapter ending was not lost on me. "I'm sorry," he said, very softly. "Ego te absolvo," Fraser murmured, and shut his eyes. I can't even imagine the amount of research that goes into any of these historical books. Diana Gabaldon takes real events, historical people and true materials of the day and weaves them into a fictional story that mesmerizes the senses. Every moment, every step of the story is a set in motion for the reader to journey along believably. Quite honestly, The Scottish Prisoner was an outstanding book and I adored every adventurous moment through Ireland and England. I think I want to go and re-read Voyager again. I want to read about Jamie and Claire's reunion. I need to. Well how did I do? Did I do The Scottish Prisoner justice? Teasers: "Christ, Sassenach. I need ye.", The Wild Hunt, another prison escape (but this time is is Lord John that is busting out), "I a bonnie lad!"
Date published: 2012-12-01
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Good read-but Not what was expected- this book does not continue on from An Echo in the Bone- rather it goes back to the time Jamie Fraser was still a prisoner, and fills in his life and contacts with John Grey while Clair is back in the present.
Date published: 2012-01-13
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Pleasant surprise! I bought this book because I thought it was the next book in the Outlander Series (its not by the way) it is part of the John Grey Series. I normally have a hard time getting through those books but this one read like an Outlander book but that may be because Jamie is in it more. I finished it in two days. Glad I bought it!
Date published: 2011-12-22
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Can't get enough I can't get enough of the Outlander series. The Lord John novels are a nice compliment to the main series and this is no exception. If you have read the Outlander series and are keeping up with the Lord John series, you'll also fully enjoy this new addition.
Date published: 2011-12-20

Read from the Book

Helwater, the Lake DistrictApril 1, 1760 It was so cold out, He thought his cock might break off in his hand— if he could find it. The thought passed through his sleep-mazed mind like one of the small, icy drafts that darted through the loft, making him open his eyes. He could find it now; had waked with his fist wrapped round it and desire shuddering and twitching over his skin like a cloud of midges. The dream was wrapped just as tightly round his mind, but he knew it would fray in seconds, shredded by the snores and farts of the other grooms. He needed her, needed to spill himself with the feel of her touch still on him. Hanks stirred in his sleep, chuckled loudly, said something incoherent, and fell back into the void, murmuring, “Bugger, bugger, bugger . . .” Jamie said something similar under his breath in the Gaelic and flung back his blanket. Damn the cold. He made his way down the ladder into the half- warm, horsesmelling fug of the barn, nearly falling in his haste, ignoring a splinter in his bare foot. He hesitated in the dark, still urgent. The horses wouldn’t care, but if they noticed him, they’d make enough noise, perhaps, to wake the others. Wind struck the barn and went booming round the roof. A strong chilly draft with a scent of snow stirred the somnolence, and two or three of the horses shifted, grunting and whickering. Overhead, a murmured “ ’ugger” drifted down, accompanied by the sound of someone turning over and pulling the blanket up round his ears, defying reality. Claire was still with him, vivid in his mind, solid in his hands. He could imagine that he smelled her hair in the scent of fresh hay. The memory of her mouth, those sharp white teeth . . . He rubbed his nipple, hard and itching beneath his shirt, and swallowed. His eyes were long accustomed to the dark; he found the vacant loose box at the end of the row and leaned against its boards, cock already in his fist, body and mind yearning for his lost wife. He’d have made it last if he could, but he was fearful lest the dream go altogether, and he surged into the memory, groaning. His knees gave way in the aftermath and he slid slowly down the boards of the box into the loose piled hay, shirt rucked round his thighs and his heart pounding like a kettledrum. Lord, that she might be safe was his last conscious thought. She and the child. HE PLUNGED at once into a sleep so deep and luxurious that when a hand shook him by the shoulder, he didn’t spring to his feet but merely stirred sluggishly, momentarily befuddled by the prickle of hay on his bare legs. His instincts came back to life in sudden alarm and he flung himself over, getting his feet under him in the same motion that put his back against the wall of the loose box. There was a gasp from the small form in the shadows before him, and he classified it as feminine just in time to restrain himself from reflexive violence. “Who’s that?” he demanded. He spoke low, his voice hoarse with sleep, and the form swayed back a little farther, exhibiting dubiousness. He was in no mood for foolishness and shot out a hand, grabbing her by the arm. She squealed like a pig and he let go as though she were red- hot, cursing himself mentally as he heard the startled grunts and rustlings of his fellow grooms overhead. “What the devil’s that?” Crusoe demanded, in a voice like a clogged pipe. Jamie heard him clear his throat and spit thickly into his half- filled pot, then bellow down the ladder, “Who’s there?” The shadowy form was making wild motions, beseeching him to be silent. The horses were half awake, snorting with mild confusion but not panicked; they were used to Crusoe shouting in the night. He did it whenever he had the money to buy drink, waking from nightmares in a cold sweat, shrieking at his demons. Jamie rubbed a hand over his face, trying to think. If Crusoe and Hanks didn’t already know he was gone, they’d notice in the next few seconds. “Rats in the feed,” he shouted up. “I killed one.” It was a feeble story; there were always rats in the feed, and no one would have stirred a finger to investigate their noises in the dead of night, let alone hunt them in the dark. Hanks made a sound of disgust, rustling his bedclothes. “The Scotchman’s buggering the horses again,” he said conversationally to Crusoe, though clearly speaking loud enough to be heard below. “Ought to speak to his lordship about it.” Crusoe grunted angrily. “Well, whatever the fuck you’re doin’, MacKenzie, be quiet about it!” he shouted, and flung himself over on his pallet in a flurry of bother. Jamie’s heart was pounding again, with annoyed agitation. He reached for the young woman— no auld crone squealed like that— but slowly this time, and she made no demur when he took her by the arm. He led her down the stone- flagged aisle between the stalls and outside, shoving the sliding door to behind them with a rumble. It was cold enough out to make him gasp, an icy wind flattening his shirt to his body and stealing his breath. The moon was obscured by racing cloud, but enough glow came from the sky for him to make out the identity of his intruder. “What the devil d’ye want?” he snapped. “And how did ye ken where I was?” It had dawned on him that she hadn’t just stumbled over him in the hay, for why would a lady’s maid be poking about the stables at night? She’d come looking for him. Betty lifted her chin. “There’s a man what wants to talk to you. He sent me to say. And I saw you come down from the loft.” That last sentence floated in the air between them, charged like a Leyden jar. Touch it, and there’d be a spark that would stand his hair on end. Christ. Did she have any notion what it was he’d been doing? He caught the hint of a smirk on her face before a cloud shadow obscured it, and his ears went suddenly hot with rising blood. “What man?” he said. “Where?” “An Irishman,” she said. “But a gentleman. He says to tell you the green branch will flower. And to meet him on the fells, where the old shepherd’s hut is.” The shock of it nearly made him forget the cold, though the wind was ripping through the linen of his shirt and he was shivering so hard that he found it hard to speak without his voice shaking. And that wouldn’t do. “I’ve nothing to do wi’ any Irishmen,” he snapped. “And if he comes back, ye may tell him so.” He put a hand on the door, turning to go in. “I’m going to my bed. Good night to ye.” A light hand ran down his back and stopped just above his buttocks. He could feel the hair there bristle like a badger’s, and not from the cold. “Your bed’ll be cold as death by now.” She’d stepped close; he could feel the slight warmth of her body behind him, the heat of her breath through his shirt. And she still had her hand on him. Lower now. “Mine’s a good deal warmer.” Holy Lord. Arse clenched, he moved deliberately away from her and pushed the door open. “Good night,” he said, without turning round, and stepped into the rustling, inquisitive dark of the stable. He saw her for an instant as he turned to shut the door, caught in the flickering moonlight, her eyes narrowed like an angry cat’s.