His hands on my shoulders raised me, enough to see his face. Through the haze of tears, I saw the look he wore in battle, of struggle that had passed the point of strain and become calm certainty. “I believe you,” he said firmly. “I dinna understand it a bit - not yet - but I believe ye. Claire, I believe you! Listen to me! There’s the truth between us, you and I, and whatever ye tell me, I shall believe it.”"But you can’t believe me."
"Ye’ll no tell me what I canna do, Sassenach."