Disclaimer:
I'm the author of this story. The Outlander novels/TV Series are the source of the original work. Jamie Fraser/OC fantasy. I don't know Jamie Fraser, do not own the character Jamie Fraser, and do not mean to cause harm, confusion or headaches. This story is simply intended for enjoyment of the readers. Please don't sue me!
Lacey's eyes fluttered open, panic setting in as she didn't recognize her surroundings. She sat up fast, scanning around her. The blood rushed out of her head, and she wasn't sure if she was about to faint or throw up.
"Easy now, lass," Jamie whispered. "Here, drink this."
She eyed the outstretched canteen warily.
Jamie grinned. "Just water from the stream yonder."
Lacey grasped the canteen and took a slow sip. The water was crisp and sweet, calming her nerves and clearing the fog. It was starting to come back to her. She'd been driving down the highway, then… Nothing. Blackness. The next thing she remembered was his face peering down at her with concern.
Lacey looked at the fierce Scotsman next to her, basked in the grayish light of dawn. Her breathe caught in her throat.
His body was large, cut and defined with muscles only developed through a life of hard work. His forearms told the story of the battles he'd fought, lined with old scars and slashes. His hands were thickly calloused. But his face, though chiseled and defined, was boyish, too. He had a languid way of looking at the world, relaxed yet prepared, determination hinting out from behind his eyes.
His eyes. He was staring at her, grinning. Lacey blushed a deep red, realizing he must have watched her look him over the whole time.
"Naught to worry over, lass. I've been looking ye over as well." He winked.
His voice was doing something to her. She closed her eyes, tilting her head, feeling like she was bursting with butterflies as she savored his thick accent.
"Lad, if ye've finished yer flirting for the morn, perhaps you and the lassie would grace us with yer presence so we may depart," Angus mocked him, mimicking a bow then sauntering over to the horses.
Jamie held his hand out to her. "Come, lass. We've a hard day of riding ahead of us."
Lacey placed her delicate hand in his rough one, savoring the feel of his skin against hers. Reaching the horses, Jamie mounted, then in one motion leaned down and pulled her up to ride in front of him. "I'd pull ye up behind me, only I feared ye may be too weak to hold on."
Lacey almost protested until his arms wrapped around her. "This will do for now," she told him, trying not to smile.
They road until a few hours after sunset, barely pausing except to water the horses. Having never ridden a horse in her life before, Lacey was exhausted. Her muscles ached down to the bone, and she dreaded having to ride again tomorrow. What's worse, the Scotsmen seemed to know, and some made a point of poking fun at her for it.
As they pulled in front of what looked to be some type of inn or tavern, Lacey stumbled as she climbed down.
"Och lass, I've got somethin' ye can practice ridin' should ye need to build yer strength," Angus leered and winked at her.
Lacey held herself high, straightened her back and looked him straight in the eye. Smirking, she winked at him. "Oh, Angus. I could say the same for you, but I think I need someone who will last longer than a minute to practice with."
The roar around her caused the innkeeper to come out and see what the commotion was. Lacey sauntered inside, smiling as the Scotsmen laughed behind her.
She settled at the nearby table as Jamie inquired about the rooms and supper. He came back with two heaping bowls of stew, and one key.
Taking the bowl from him, Lacey dug in. And suddenly, desperately wished for salt.
Jamie snickered as he downed his bowl. "Beggers canna be choosers, lass."
"Maybe not, but they can certainly dream," she grimaced.
Angus and the others shortly joined them, and he passed her his flask. She eyed it dubiously. Jamie leaned and whispered into her ear, "Strong Scotch makes the stew go down easier."
She took the flask and held it high in a toast. "When in Scotland!" She downed half the flask as the Scotsmen cheered.
"I've been meaning to ask ye, lass. Where are ye from? Ye certainly arna Scots, or English for that matter," Jamie mused.
Lacey stilled. What year is it? Would I be from the colonies, or America? Thinking quickly she tried to stick close to the truth. What were some of the oldest cities, around before the Revolutionary War, just in case? "I'm from Boston."
Jamie whistled. "Ye've travelled far, then. How'd ye come to be here? And why were ye running from the English?"
In truth, Lacey hadn't even seen the English. And she most certainly had absolutely no idea how she got there. But gazing across the candlelight, seeing the kindness in his eyes, she couldn't bear to lie to him. "Honestly? I can't remember. I lost my parents two years ago, and don't have any family left. Last I remember I was looking for an adventure and a new place to call home."
Jamie nodded with a mixture of empathy and pity in his eyes. "I've lost me parents as well. I know the pain."
She smiled softly at him, feeling the tears well a bit for the first time in a long while. "Well," she declared brusquely. "I'd better be heading off to bed. If you'll point me towards my room?"
Jamie cleared his throat and glanced sheepishly at her, then the others. "About that, lass. Y'see, they've only the one room left for tonight. And it be the one with no lock."
Lacey flushed, looking at Angus and the other five very, very large men, catching his meaning.
"A man will do a lot with a bit o' drink in him that he wouldna do otherwise," Jamie nodded his head towards the others. "I was thinking, with yer permission, I may sleep on the floor next to yer bed. To watch over ye and all."
Lacey considered, then nodded. "Better the Scotsman you know than the one you don't, right?"
Jamie smiled. "Suppose so lass. For now," he winked.
