Chapter1: A Brute with a Brogue

Disclaimer: Diana Gabaldon owns all the rights to Outlander

A/N: this story takes place after Jamie rescues Claire from the clutches of Captain Black Jack Randall at Fort William. Pray for me guys, this is my first attempt at a Scottish brogue.

My heart wouldn't stop pounding even as Jamie hoisted me quickly upon his steed. Settling himself behind me, he drew me to his chest. He spurred the beast into a gallop and we sped with his cohorts, away from that awful place and that monster, Captain Black Jack Randall. The fort reverberated with the sounds of guns firing, and redcoats yelling at the top of their lungs. Murtagh, Rupert, Angus, and the others pivoted on their animals, shouting back curses in Gaelic I'm sure, and answering the shots with a barrage of their own. Jamie was without a gun; it was just as well, because with every inch of ground we covered, his hold on me tightened substantially.

Nearing a spot close to a forested area, Jamie turned the horse aside, following a trail peppered with tiny spots of snow. Tugging on the reins, he brought the horse to a halt, and yanking his shirt up over his head, passed it to me over my shoulder. "Yer constant shiverin' is scarin' the horse, lass. Best ye put this on. I've no pleasure in sharin' the sight of yer lovely breasts to the rest o' the men neither, ye ken."

I agreed wholeheartedly, pulling it down over my torn corset. It was enough that his countrymen spoke of me in lewd commentaries without adding the visual effects that Captain Black had so recently fabricated. I dreaded the possibility of seeing the gleam in their eyes every time they noticed me. So far, I didn't think any of them had gotten so much as a peek, since Jamie had me out of the garrison and onto his animal in record time.

No sooner had I donned his shirt than I felt his plaid around me, covering the two of us as he had done on the first day we met. Finally, I relaxed against his muscled torso and released a long overdue sigh. My tension returned abruptly though, as Murtagh passed by us on the right, and shot me with a glare that could melt lead. Jamie and I followed down a slope of rocky terrain and to a burn where we plodded through the middle of the river, to throw off anyone tracking us.

We had traveled now for about an hour. Everyone was on edge in the eerie silence, since no one uttered a sound as not to alert any nearby redcoats. The river was getting deeper, and there were areas of ice along the quieter pools. Murtagh was still in the lead, and all at once nearly sank out of our vision. The weight of the animal had caused it to plunge through the ice up to its haunches. With the Scotsman still in the saddle, it thrashed about amid the jagged edges of the frozen liquid, whinnying in fear.

Murtagh slid off and into the icy fluid, pulling at the reins trying to extricate the beast. The horse was wild with fright, rearing his head and churning up the shards of ice, and splashing his owner with the freezing water. Rupert rode up closer to the creature, coiling a rope about his own pommel, and threw the line to his companion. Murtagh in kind, tied it around the horse with considerable difficulty, hoping the added strength would succeed in rescuing the frightened stallion.

"C'mon, now beastie," Rupert said, patting his horse's neck. "We canna allow yer friend to drown in the depths, now can we?"

"Or freeze its ballocks off, more like," Murtagh added, clearly irritated.

The horse continued to strain at the rope, and his aggravated rescuer, was red in the face, shaking with the cold, and cursing softly. Heaving one final time, Murtagh and Rupert watched in dismay as the beast apparently slipped on a rock in the river bed and went down beneath the water, with a loud scream.

Desperate now, the two pulled harder, and hauled the animal to shore. It was obvious by the way the horse limped, that its front leg was broken. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Murtagh fumed, untying the line, and throwing down the end of the rope. "He'll have to be put down—a good horse he was, and now isna good for anythin'!"

Glancing my way, he threw me a murderous look, and said, "D'ye hear that, Sassenach …? My horse isna good to anyone now. I hope ye're verra proud o' yerself."

I cringed and buried my face in Jamie's plaid when I saw Angus pitch his dry pistol to Murtagh. The sound of the gun went off, scaring the few birds perched in the trees. The animal thudded to the ground. The disgruntled Scot handed the weapon back to his friend, and climbed up, riding double on Angus' horse. He grumbled something, probably meant for me; after all, it was my fault. My decisions cost him his horse and quite possibly all their lives. Castle Leoch, and safety was miles away; my dreams of reaching Craigh na Dun farther yet.

We were in the saddle again for a couple more hours, when three of our party veered off toward Leoch, while Rupert, Murtagh and Angus remained with us traveling east. Curious, I pointed toward the departing riders and asked Jamie, "Where are we going? Isn't Leoch that way?"

"Aye."

"Well—"

"We canna go to Leoch, Claire. The redcoats will be swarmin' the battlements, searching ever' nook and cranny for us. 'Tis all we can do to lie low and hope the bastards give op some day."

I bowed my head, mortified. "I'm sorry. None of this would've happened if I had stayed where you told me to."

His voice was abrupt and rough. "And weel ye should have."

Jamie was quiet all the way to the inn where Murtagh said it would be safe to stay in the meantime. The rest of our group continued to mutter to him in Gaelic, but for some reason, he never answered them.

Rupert rode on ahead as we neared the inn, to pay for our rooms, I supposed. It would feel so good to get warm again, eat some dinner and have clean water to freshen ourselves up.

By the time Angus tethered the horses, Rupert was gesturing for us to enter, but not before he gave me another disapproving glance, and a nod to Jamie, who dismounted in one smooth movement. He then reached up to me, clasping me about the waist, and carried me into the place. Rupert mumbled something to him, and Jamie sprang up the stairs, two at a time, carrying me to our room.

While we raced up the steps, I spotted Dougal and some others of his familiar cronies sitting at a table and drinking ale. They had all looked up from their drafts when we entered the inn, with the same expression on their faces as Rupert. I guess he'd already told them about our harrowing run-in with the soldiers at the fort.

I almost bounced on the mattress when Jamie hurriedly plunked me down. Peering into his face, I noted the contorted brow and the sadness housed in his bright blue eyes. His cheek muscles were taut, and there was no smile on his lips for me. I had done wrong; no doubt about it. He and his clan were well aware of my misdeeds, and I needed to make amends to him as soon as possible.

My voice was small as I broke the silence in the room. "Was Dougal waiting here for us all this time?"

Jamie answered, nodding, "Aye."

He stood, stiff as a mannequin, unblinking for such a long period with nary a word after that first curt response. I felt as if his lingering gaze could burn a blazing tunnel clear to my soul. Then, averting his eyes, he sighed loudly.

Standing up from the mattress, I took a step forward and placed my hand on his cheek. In his usual stoic manner, he never mentioned or complained of any injury, and yet there it was staring me in the face. A bullet had glanced off the side of his jaw, leaving a wicked, red furrow behind.

"Let me see to that," I murmured.

He flicked my hand away, brusquely. "No."

Jamie sighed once more, and peering straight at me, said, "D'ye think lightly on the vows ye take in Oxfordshire?"

I shook my head. "No, I—"

"I canna stand to hear it, Sassenach. Did ye no vow here … to love, honor and obey me? Did it mean nothin' to ye then?"

He leaned against the wall, looking down at the floor. "I told ye afore that I didna have much o' a temper. Aye, that much is true, but it saddens me to say that there're witnesses just down the stairs to see that justice is meted out t'day, temper or no."

What does he mean by that? "Justice? Whatever are you saying?"

"I'm sayin' as I'm bound to punish ye."

I laughed nervously. Surely he wouldn't be so cruel as to physically assault me. He told me once that I needn't be scared of him; that he would never hurt me. I tossed my head saucily. "So it's bread and water for me then?"

Tipping his head up, he answered, "No, Claire. I mean to lay a strap to ye."

I jerked back in surprise. "What?"

His face showed no amusement. "I take no joy in it, but if I canna do it, Dougal will hand ye over to Colum, and ye'll be stripped to the waist like a common hoor, and flogged. I canna let that happen, ye ken?"

Frowning at him, I remarked, "You can't be serious."

"I am.

"If it had been only me in harm's way, weel then, so be it. But the others … ye put them all in danger as weel. They'll be no rest for either of us 'til I've doled out the punishment that's comin' to ye. I'll try no to strap ye too hard. I've no wish to leave marks on that bonny rear end. It would kill me sure to do so."

Jaime began to unbuckle his belt. "If ye no struggle, it doesna hurt as bad. But if ye refuse to lie still, ye'll force me to use my knee on yer back to keep ye from squirmin'.

"Now, bend o'er the footboard, and hike up yer skirt, lass. I'll no tell ye agin."

There was no way I would allow him to attack me in that fashion. Crossing my arms, I turned my head away from him. "I will do no such thing."

Practically shouting at me, he said, "Aye—ye will."

He walked toward me, and with his index finger, he lifted my chin so that I had to face him. "Look at me, Sassenach. Ye're such a wee lassie; d'ye think to fight agin' me, and win?"

I was fuming now. Did he actually suppose that I would cooperate in this atrocity? I started to back up, and meant to run for the door. Jamie saw me glance at it, and immediately blocked the way. He chased me back and forth across the room. I couldn't avoid him forever, and finally catching me by the wrist, taunted, "I see this will be a bit o' a battle, ay?"

Trying desperately to wrench my wrist away from him, I clawed with my nails, leaving lines of scratches on his arms and face, but he was too strong for my meager attempts at escape. "Get your hands off me, you brute!" I shrieked at him.

His eyes were aflame. "I didna wanna do it this way, but ye give me no choice."

Jamie flung me onto the mattress, face down, and lifting up the back of my skirt, exposed my naked hind end. Then I felt a jolt as he shoved his knee into my back. I was totally humiliated, but after the first sting of his leather belt, I was more than humiliated, I was feeling a searing pain. I screamed at the bite of every stroke, still struggling about, trying to get out from under him.

Twelve stripes he administered. Apparently there were a prescribed amount of lashes assigned for each specific offense—how very expedient. I was lucky in retrospect to be faced with only twelve. I could just imagine what I could have suffered at Colum's hand, but that still didn't soften my feelings toward my husband. My blood was boiling in anger, and I was sobbing in frustration and pain.

He removed his knee and pulled my skirt down to cover my blistered bum. I saw his belt being tossed to the floor, then turning me onto my side offered his hand to help me up. I smacked it away. "Don't touch me you bloody, barbaric Scotsman."

Pushing down with my elbow, I lifted myself from the bed, and stood, glowering at him. "You'll not share my bed ever again," I snarled at him.

"Ye're angry, Sassenach, and hungry as weel. Ye'll feel right better after ye've food in yer belly. I'll go down and fetch somethin' for ye."

"I'm not hungry."

"Aye, ye are. Ye're just too stubborn to admit it to me."

He picked his belt up off the floor and holding it in his fist, marched out the door to his applauding clansmen. At this moment, I hated them, and Jamie most of all.