In the beginning with you

by tayrn24

What if the moment Claire had approached the stone circle to go back in time the soldiers were coming too close for comfort for Jamie's taste, so he rushed to protect her with his body only to be whorled back in time to where the story all began. Everything is just the same, but which of them remembers everything that had happened, and what will happen this time?

3. Chapter 2 : Castle Leoch (2)

Chapter 2: Castle Leoch

Castle Leoch (2)

---

If I thought my entrance created a ruckus, Jamie's entrance was positively the equivalent of the second coming.

They all stared at him.
Dougal's hand tightened on the stem of his glass and I thought it would break.
Any second now…

Murtagh had his mouth open and a piece of unchewed bread was protruding from it.

Angus… well, Angus being Angus, he was scratching his arse.

Jamie's eyes narrowed for a split second once he saw I was seated at the head table and not with the rest of the castle inhabitants.
But in true Jamie fashion, did not lose his composure and marched all the way across the room to pay his respects to the laird and his wife, with quite a spring in his step.

I took a very big gulp of Rhenish.

And this after, I sagaciously evaded my blundering error of confusing Hamish for Dougal's son as oppose to Colum's.
Which, was, in fact, the truth,
but no need to put me deeper in the boiling caldron than needs be.
Of course, all this was, now, utterly muddled with Jamie's actions!

As Jamie came to stand before us, Dougal rose to his feet.

"My Laird," Jamie bowed his head to Colum in a show of respect.
"My Lady Leoch," he bowed deeply to Letitia.
"Dougal," that gesture addressed to the man, that now had one hand leaning on his dirk.
For Christ sake, surely Dougal wasn't going to try and stab him now, was he?

"Mr. MacTavish, welcome. We were wonderin' when will we get t' gaze upon ye."
Colum waved his hand at the other tables, "should ha' kent ye would come for the food!"
He added, with only slight chafing to his tone.
"Come, take yer seat. An' after that, ye'll be joinin' me at my chamber for a word." He added pointedly.

"Mr. MacTavish?" Lattisa chimed in, bewildered.
This time around, I didn't inquire about the young man to have it be revealed to her that they were to use a false name on my account.

"Aye, m'dear, surely ye remember young Jamie," Colum addressed her confusion.

"Ouch, 'tis been quite a while, uncle! I'm sure I changed quite a bit from a sixteen-year-old paitçhey "
Jamie vindicated her confusion further.

"Christ, lad," Dougal muttered through clenched teeth.
Probably the uncle comment,again.
Which does beg the question, why was Jamie invoking their shared genealogy, AGAIN?
Surely, I was already privileged to this information and had no need for this display.
Why was he trying to provoke Dougal then? Or risk his standing with Colum?

Dougal's grip on his dirk tightened.

Jamie didn't seem to care the slightest. He addressed me, quite cordially, with a deep bow.
"Mistress Beauchamp, your servant ma'am. I hope to find ye weel."

So that was it, he was worried about me. I wondered what brought that about.

"Yes, thank you kindly, Mr. MacTavish. Quite well," I nodded in thanks.
"Although, to tell the truth, I'm afraid the rigours of the past few days have been catching up with me," I addressed this to Colum, rising to stand on my feet, "if you'll excuse me, I think I shall retire early tonight."

Letitia did not seem pleased, I supposed she wanted to have her turn at the 'investigation of the English spy' game.

Colum, of the same mind, scrutinized me; reluctant to let his captured prey go free. Dougal, at my back, holding my chair for me, looked over at Colum, awaiting his word, either to let me go, or kill me right here, by the look of him.
All this, I inferred, was thanks to Jamie revealing his kinship to them.
Beauchamp, you sure did marry wisely!

Jamie, on his part, just seemed annoyed that his wife was leaving, right as he had only just arrived.

I didn't care. I was sticking to the plan. And at this point of the proceedings, last time that is, I had also excused myself.
I had no desire to take a further risk that either or both brothers would find new questions that I wouldn't be able to answer, or new methods of interrogations that were far less pleasant than plying me with food and drink.

"A good night to ye then… Mrs. Beauchamp" Colum, finally, gave me my leave, and I took my exit swiftly, not looking back.

The big oaf can fend for himself!

---

It was the next day.
And in order to stay consisted with past events, I was to go and visit Jamie at the stables, under the pretense of wanting to change his dressing.

I collected my supplies and a basket filled with food, Complements of Mrs. Fitz, just as before.

This wasn't my idea now nor it had been the last time, but I was very thankful for it, none the less, particularly now.

Jamie seemed to always be in a constant state of starvation, and I missed taking care of my man, especially almost losing the chance to do so for the rest of mine and his days.

I did pause to wonder, for a brief moment, if Mrs. Fitz' picnic basket held ulterior motives then, as it seemed to possess now.
Based on the looks she was fixing me with, it did seem quite a viable option, but I chose not to grind myself to a halt on the matter, and departed with only a nod and a smile of gratitude to her.

I made my way to the top of the meadow where the stables laid, with Rupert at my heels.
So, business quite as usual.

I strolled on the path, cherishing the serenity of castle life. The laughter of children playing, the sounds of the hard and earthbound labor around me, which always rang dulcet to my ears.

Quite the difference, from the ostentatious city life in aristocratic Paris, or from the blood-soaked battlefields we marched on till Culloden.
It was no Lallybroch. But it was the next best thing.
And this time around,
I thought,
I could appreciate it fully with-

Jamie was taming the white colt, quite the same as he did then.
And as I watched him, I began to wonder,
was the changing of the dressing an excuse, then, as it was now?
No, I defended myself to... well, myself.
I really did want to check on my patient, as I was most accustomed to doing.
Daily rounds for the patients under my care during the war, was a ritual ingrained in me by years of practice.
Being as scared as I was then and extracted so rudely from my time and place, I clung to any normality I could muster.

And Jamie was kind, caring, promising me his protection in a true chivalrous manner.
Who wouldn't choose that over the others that surrounded me?

But here and now, with the discretion that one holds in the privacy of his mind, I had no one but myself to lie to, so I let my mind stray on, exploring new terrains, in order to reach the whole truth.

I didn't think I had amorous feelings for him at that point, not yet.
But his gentle strokes at my nape, in my time of need, by the hearth;
his eyes locking on mine, not as a demand, but as if he could see right through them, right through me. Allowing me, in turn, to see him as a man for the first time and not only as a threat.
I had no idea how he accomplished all that with a mere touch and glance, but watching him speak softly to the horse, now, as he did then, in the Gaelic; so gentle but clearly in control.
He was peace.
He elicited peace from me, and had a pull on me, even if he wasn't, as now, looking at me.

Slowly, Jamie was luring her to him, making her feel fully at ease with him, before laying his hands on her, which, all of a sudden, made me wonder,
did he use such tactics on me?
I mean, on our wedding night, he did, leisurely, bide his time before-

I could also feel now, and remember then, what it felt like to watch him, tame the colt.
The slight heat I felt spreading in my bones, despite only a moment before shivering slightly from the cold,
the deep breath I inhaled, and did again, feeling myself go soft inside, wanting only to touch...
I closed my eyes as the thought washed over me.

"What're ye thinking of, mo ghraidh?" I opened my eyes to find a- fleshy smiling mouth and twinkling eyes- face watching me.
He was leaning himself on the fence, his good hand holding onto it hard.

I smiled, feeling absurdly shy at being caught, but simply said, "You."

His eyes narrowed as he looked back at me. A soft stare, but no less steeled for it.
And I could hear the thunder's rumblings around us, boding the coming rain, just as they did before.

After a moment or two, he called out to Roderick, the stable boy, to come care for the colt, beckoning me with a slight twitch of his head to follow him.

We walked side by side without speaking, the fence between us.
It was quite like our own story, a long winding road of seduction, with many barriers between us until-
We reached the paddock's gate, and Jamie came out toward me.

"Rupert," I said in an urgent whisper when I saw he reached his hand to me.

He licked his lips and made a face as if he didn't like the taste of something, but yielded and simply nodded.
"Aye," he said, and his offered hand moved, motioning to his side to indicate the place we will sit for our light snack.

After settling on the hay filled ground, I came to his back, standing on my knees behind him, pretending to adjust his dressing. I couldn't really replace it without removing his shirt and I remembered his reluctance to do so in front of old Alec.

So, I settled instead for covertly caressing his nape and shoulder.
I just wanted to gratify my need to touch him, to connect anew, but I wasn't about to let slide yesterday's shenanigans in the dining hall.

Jamie, meantime, was positively purring. His head pressing hard into my hand.

"Jamie," I tarted with a wisp of warning "you can't do that. We're out, in broad daylight!"

"The devil wi' the lot of 'em, Sassenach".
He startled me with the sharp, strident, and tersely undercurrents in his tone, having had, only a moment ago, such a silvery-smooth speech.
He did, however, open his big blue cat eyes.
Only, I hardly thought that would suffice, given he was still nuzzling the back of his head against my palm.
"Ye're my wife! Nay theirs. I waited too long to ha' ye to now going back to bein' unable to touch ye as I please! Christ, 'tis torture!"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have started this" I replied, straightening his collar and shirt.
I was intending to rise when his booming pitch stopped me.

"If ye move your hand an inch, I'll take ye were ye' stand! And we shall see what they all say to that, aye?"

"What in hell is wrong with you?!" I cried out, indignantly.
I did halt my leave, though; unwilling, quite yet, to take risks with a madman.

"Me!?" He answered in an offended tone, as if he was the injured party here.

"Yes, you!" at this I did let go, not caring anymore what the bloody hell he was going to do.
"First at dinner, now here! I knew I shouldn't have come!"
I was gathering my medical supplies, deciding at the last second that I would at least leave him the food.
I still wouldn't want him to starve, and I seemed to have lost my appetite completely.

"Did ye now?" He said provokingly.
"Ye knew that, did ye?"

"For heaven's sake, you dumb-brut, what the bloody hell, do you mean by that!?" I retorted, irked beyond measure at this point.

"Sit down, Sassenach, I wasna joking wi' ye before, I'll do it!" he ordered, succinctly through his teeth.

"Oh, is that a fact!?"
I was making ready to rise to my feet.
Let him even try!

"Aye, I told ye once afore, I dinna make idle promises, and I dinna menace idle threats."
He grabbed my wrist, pulling me down to the ground.
"Now. Do ye want me to do that?"

Was he actually serious?
He seemed genuinely steamed over something, but-
Surely he wouldn't? And what on earth brought this along?!

"Jamie, what in hell is wrong with you?" I charged at him, feeling myself both vexed and incredulous at the same time.

"Sit down, and I'll tell ye!" he said matching my tone, audibly, and feeling the same?

I obliged him that, only because I truly wanted to know, and this seemed the most expedient way to get to the root of this debacle and putting an end to this preposterous spectacle of his.
I sat down, crossed my arms and glared at him.

"Why'd ye leave me yesterday?" he started up, with no preliminaries.

"Leave you? You mean at the dining hall?"

"Aye, aye…why?" He burst out at me, just as vexed as I was, "I wasna gonna say naught aboot it, but the way ye've been actin'."

"The way I've been acting?!"
My voice rose almost to a scream.
"Jamie, I think all those blows to your head had finally-"

"Why'd ye leave me?!" He hissed, coming very close to my face.

"Because I left then, the last time!" I stung as a viper back, looming my face to his just as he did to mine.

"Whit?" He pulled back, bewildered.

I began vigorously brushing nonexistence straw off my skirt, out of sheer exasperation.
It was either that or I would surely punch him!
He was acting much as he had at the start of our marriage, where he acted as an enraged child that was mad first and asked questions later.
And I was having none of that!
"When you marched in, I was already about to rise and leave, having reached the point in Colum's interrogation of me, that it reached last time! I, as oppose to 'others',"
I said in clipped tones, making it clear who I addressed this too.
"was sticking to the plan! I was making sure I wouldn't be asked anything I couldn't answer, or that might change things too much! I was keeping everything under OUR control, by following what I knew had and would be suspicious enough to keep me here, but sill sufficiently murky, so I wouldn't be executed on the spot! OR DO YOU FIND YOU TAKE ISSUE WITH THAT?!"

"WEEL, YE WERENA MAKIN' A GOOD GO O' IT!" he lashed out back at me.

"What?!" it was my turn to back away slightly, too surprised and needing to recollect myself to perhaps understand what in heaven's was happening here.

At that, Jamie stopped running off at the mouth and foaming through his lips.
He composed himself, took a deep breath in, let go of my wrist, which he kept a firm hold on thus far, and repentant,
"I'm sorry, lass. I'm a pig. No, I'm a pig's entrails! A stinkin', bloody clot, an' a whelp t' boot."
He took my wrist, discreetly and gently this time.
"So sairy, Sassenach, 'tis nae your faut. That lies wi' me. I'm just at the end o' my tether, havin' had a verra wicked two days. An' the bastard-coward that I am, I took it 'oot on ye" he sounded so Scottish, every 'r' rolled at length, every second word shortened and almost misunderstood, not that I needed further proof in hand, but that was a clear indication to how upset and sorry he really was.

"Perhaps if you'll talk to me, and explain, I could help. Or…. Maybe even offer an apology for any wrongdoings on my part."
That was truly an olive branch.
And he smiled ruefully and calmed fully, recognizing it as such.

"I'd like to live long enough to see that day, Sassenach" he teased dryly.

I snorted in mock indignation at his reply, adding a kind smile after that to egg him on.

"I had me a plan, ye see," he said, quite serious now.

"Yes, we said we wouldn't change-"

"Aye," he rushed into my words, urgency in his voice and maybe a tinge of… fear?
"only, I had to ha' another plan, after hearin' Rupert and Angus as I did.
However, plainly, after bein' awakened at that blasted horse box as I did, and being caught by Alec in the state I was in…" he rolled his eyes to the heavens, clearly, mortified at the memory, "I wasna in my right mind to form a GOOD plan, or even a sensible one."

"Wait, I'm sorry, I don't understand. What state? Is there something wrong with your shoulder? Did it get infected?! And… why were you even in the horse box? I vaguely remember that you told me that last time as well. Did they not offer you better lodgings?" I interrogated him intensely and relentlessly, matched to my own befuddled state.
"Wait, first thing first," I prioritized, "Is there something wrong with your injury? Stupid of me not to at least try and give it a once-over, even if only through the collar of your shirt."
I was already standing on my knees, wanting to check for damages, when he spoke with rough-nervousness in his voice; by all means not angrily, this time, but even sounding… embarrassed?

"Naught wrong wi' me, Sassenach. Sit down and I'll tell ye, but just sit down and dinna speak, please," he said gruffly.

I sat gingerly down, quite apprehensive, all of a sudden, as to what he had to say.
"Alright," I said evenly, settling in my seat beside him. "Tell me".

He sighed and reluctantly began, "Weel… ye saw the way I was when... when I left ye."

A giggle that was quickly disguised as a cough skidded out of me.
"Mmm," I said, tight lip "I seem to recall the… the way of it. Yes."

He gave me a dirty look, but went on.

"Last time, before I mean," he elaborated, "w-when I left ye… I-I slept the whole day and night and the next one too," he said, quickly, as if trying to gloss over something.
"Only ... only, this time, it wasna the beast of a horse nibblin' at my ear that woke me, but Alec comin' wi' Rupert an' Angus. Thank the Lord for his blessing, they, dinna see me!" he crossed himself and shivered in horror.
"Alec was comin' to check why the horse was all prancin' at his loose box, an' then he saw me at such a... anyhow, he nudged me wi' his boot, an' at least made the effort to give me back a modicum of dignity by leaving me wi'oot another word or a look, returnin' swiftly to Rupert and Angus at the box on the other side"

"No, wait! Why did you sleep in the stall, to begin with? And what was the awful state you were in, that robbed you so completely of dignity and stature?" I tried cobbling any sort of path with the crumbs, of what I assumed was logic, he was sharing with me, regarding what had happened; and succeeding poorly if not at all.
And Jamie was a born storyteller at that. He knew quite well how to recount anything he liked!

"They were talkin', ye see," he went on, turning a deaf ear to my inquires, "Alec was telling Rupert, how he needs to clean Peggy's hoofs and shoe her anew."
He smirked then, but a smirk utterly void of glee or joy.
"I suppose, all that double ridin' ye did wi' him did make the damage worse this time, 'cause they dinna come, the first time I mean."
He fixed me with a half glance to see will I let this go at that, and whatever showed on my face made him persevere,
"Sooo… Alec was chastising Rupert, shouting that if he e'er had it in his mind to ride one of Alec's horses ever again, he better tend to it himsel an' at present, or else…
So Rupert, as ye might gather, was bursting wi' good cheers."

"What did they say? Jamie, did they say something that made you come to supper the way you did?"

He downcast his eyes from me toward the ground, picking up and twisting a wisp of hay from the many scattered under his cross- legged knee, either as a means to avoid my gaze or as a dilatory tactic; most likely both.
"They were blethrin' aboot how they both got stuck wi' guarding ye, an' they were making jokes as to what they would like t' do wi' ye instead."

"But Jamie, that's to be expected," I dismissed the matter, knowing both of the parties involved, and said parties' mouths.

"Nay by my eyes! Ye're a lady an' they'll treat ye wi' respect or ha' their teeth crammed down their gullet!" He asserted.

"Jamie," I sighed.

"For the love o' God, Sassenach. Ye're my lady Broch Tuarach!" He raged.

"Not yet, and not to them, Jamie" I cautiously reminded.

"Aye, I ken that! But still!" he said, jerking his arms.
"Besides," he added, "'twas nae that, that made me come to ye"

"What was it then?" I asked, bursting with inquisitiveness.

"I dinna ken what ye did differently…" he suggested delicately.

"What?" I cried out, defiant at the accusation.

"I dinna say I blame ye, or that ye did somethin' wi' cause," he said, trying to lower me from the high tree I was beginning to climb.
"'Tis only Angus was ranting as how ye should be on your back and nay on your feet, 'cause all the hurried gaiting ye do…"

"Lazy sot!" I exclaimed, all of a sudden, not feeling so forgiving of the insults to my person.

"Aye, he said as ye need a man to take the wind 'oot your sails, and then, perchance, ye'd finally settle. An' that wasna the worst of his blabber."

"I'll kill him; I'll actually wring his neck! No better yet I have a concoction that will give him loose stool for days, see how he likes walking then! That bloody primate! He should be thanking me for all the exercise he's getting!"

"Bloody whit?" Jamie frowned at me.

"Never mind, I'll get my revenge"

"Nae if I get mine first!" He said narrowing his eyes maliciously, looking into the horizon as if having something already in the works.
"Aye, wee Angus will see how weel he can walk, soon enough..."
Then he recalled the purpose of this little 'gathering' of ours, and recollected himself, "but, that wasna what caused me to come t' ye either."

"What then?" I said, riled, starting to lose all patience.
"And why do you think I did something?"

"I dinna ken what 'twas, or even if 'twas indisputably ye. Only, Dougal, last time I mean, dinna even let freeing ye be a consideration, let alone let ye 'oot o' his sight. So when Angus said what he said, I was fairly fashed to hear Rupert chuckle, coincide wi' the man, an' say how all this probably wouldna be for long, ower the fact that Dougal wasna exactly sure d'ye warrant the cost to keep ye here, and it wasna as if ye ken much anyhoo."

I sat back in my seat at that. This tale finally starting to make an iota of sense.
"So you were afraid they would send me on my way, and you came to the hall and started calling them uncles and…."

"I was meanin' to let on a lot more than that, had ye only stayed. Only by accident ye ken? Only ye left, an'-"
he seemed truly stricken with fear all of a sudden. His voice dropping low and thick.
"an' I was scared," he said looking into my face as if memorizing them, just in case.
"nae e'en a week had gone by since I sent ye away, through the stones, Claire, an'... an' I got so stark raving mad at ye for leavin' me the way ye did, 'cause what I said wasna enough! An' now ye'd be sent away, an' I dinna ken what else to do, and-" he adjusted his shirt as if it was too tight, and shook his head to and fro in a self-reproach manner, "an' I went daft!"

I looked at him, not without sympathy,
"And that's how you came up with the idea of rolling me to the ground and having your way with me in front of witnesses?" I asked delicately, remembering the outrages threat.

He blushed profusely at that, and said quietly and huskily, averting his eyes in the process, "weel, worked last time, no? And if I debauched ye, they ha' to let me marry ye, to save your honor, ye ken... Although after what Alec saw…," he grimaced.

"What was the state dear Old Alec caught you in exactly, that caused such an uproar? And for the love of God, would you please tell why where you at a stall in the stables?!"
I wanted answers and I wanted them now!

Jamie clenched his lips together and blow out his cheeks with air.
"No Jamie!" I warned, casting him with a sharp look, "as you always say 'I require the telling'! And now!"

Jamie averted his gaze from me again.
His shirt was askew across his shoulders, showing distinct signs of crimson on his nape and collar, matching quite well to the color of his hair, which he was scratching harshly with his hand on the back of his head.

"I was doin' the exact same thing I did when I first met ye!" he blurted out, finally!

Jamie is a big man no one can dispute this, but in this precise moment, he seemed to shrink to half his size, shriveling into his own skin. Red-faced and abashed.

"And what was that exactly? " I wasn't letting this go and I was making it quite clear.

His eyes were now boring into the ground before him, between his stretch-out, bent-at-the-knee legs, his arms circling around them, hugging them hard with the need for fortitude.
He was not willing to look up at me, and was avoiding my gaze at all costs, even as I tried to stoop down to catch it.

"One o' the boxes on the far side o' the stables has a window," he said matter-a- factly, as if this explained everything.

"And why is this window relevant?" I pressed.

"Well, I'd no say exactly that 'tis the window that's relevant, ye see. 'tis more whit one can see through it... I really think ye should get back afore anyone is suspicious or comes looking for ye-"
He said, begging more than suggesting.

I laid a hand on him to keep him sitting still, noticing he was already squirming away from me.
"And what do you see through this 'special' hole-in-the-wall?"

"Weel…" he made a deep- cut- throat sound as if to clear his throat, and pulled at his collar as if to make more room for breathing.
Then, he turned his head away from me, twisting his neck as far as it could go the other way.

My hand tightening on him, made him finally release the gist of it in a tumbled flood of hurried words

"Weel-'tis-a-small-lookin'-window, one-that-when-ye-look-at-it-ye-can-see-your-room…
Or the window o' your room at least" he added very, very quietly.

"Oh?" I queried further, still finding comprehension alluded me.

Jamie let out an ox worthy breath through his nose, and blasted away,
"An' the first time when I left ye, I wanted so badly to see ye again! I couldna sit still, or lie down, or eat, or sleep!" He said, in an obvious accusatory fashion.
"Ne'er ha' I e'er felt like this in my life, mind ye!"
He was extremely blameful and critical of me now, although he was still unwilling to look at me.
"It felt like ants were crawlin' under my skin and I couldna flick them aff!
So... I wandered all around the castle, trying to find an excuse to see ye, or at least as an attempt to calm myself down, an'... weel... Finding no excuse and feeling the worse for wear over the gad traipsing, I-I… Ouch, Christ ha' mercy on me," he said, more as a plea for mercy than blasphemy.
Once that didn't seem to work for him, he let out a low groan.
"See, I wanted so badly t' touch ye again,"
he was finally turning his head toward me, but only an inch at a time, eyes still fixed squarely on the ground, a pleading for understanding tone in his voice.
"I dinna ken that was love I only kent I couldna make it stop!"

He stopped the movement of his head mid-way, his gaze boring deeper and deeper into the ground in front of him.
"I thought, I'd just go an' look, ye see? Harmless enough, no? Perhaps ye'd look through the window or such.
Only... Only, I stood there, an' kept yearning for ye to come to the window, an' kept thinking o' ye all wet, cryin' in my arms, me caressin' the back of your neck, the feel of your hair across my cheek, your heavy breathin' and lips on my good shoulder, that white dirty shift and... Och!…" he lifted his head to the heavens pleading for... well, for something I couldn't quite comprehend.

"A. n. d?!" I was at my wit's end.

"Weel, afore I e'en kent of it, I was sort of….. Weel, rubbin' mysel under my kilt an…."

"Oh no," my hands shot up to cover my, now, gaping, mouth.

"An'-ye-ken-the-rest-'cause-by-the-time-I-did-that-a-few-times-I-fall-from-my-feet-pantin'-turned-to-my-side-and-fall-asleep-to-be-awakened-by-the-horse-nibblin'-in-my -ear," he blurted out, long-winded, with half a breath to spare.

"I see," I said, striving for maturity.

"Nae! Michel and bride defend us, ye dinna see!" He said, with heartfelt gratitude.

"A-And this…. well, was this something that came up... I mean, came about! Yes, I meant came about… again? This time, that is?"
One of my hands was against my mouth, the other clenched into a fist, beneath my skirts, fingernails digging into my skin hard, leaving nail markings on it, in an effort to restrain myself from laughing.

"Weel, it dinna get better by the knowin'," he said, very crossly through clenched teeth.

"I…don't... 'hem'…seem…to… fully... understand," I was letting every word out slowly, trying to keep a straight face, choking a few times, and trembling with the effort to not burst.
'Please by the virgin Mary, don't let me laugh!' I petitioned the heavens.

"The wantin' dinna get better by the knowin' of what it feels like to ha' ye," he added, slowly, in clipped tones, visibly furious at needing to clarify this,
boring his eyes at me, daring me to even try and laugh.

Now he was looking straight at me?! How was that fair!?

"I had more memories in my heid this time, ken?"

"Oh…mmm...yes I ken" I said, nodding.
Knowing I wouldn't be able to stop myself for long, I reached and stuffed a piece of bread down my throat, as deep as I could.

"So… when Alec saw me, this morning, I wasna only dirty, cranky wi' my hand under my kilt, and splotches of my…. O' my own spunk on me," he said resentfully "I was also in a box stall wi' a cranky horse in it!"

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" I couldn't stop myself from crying out, feeling my eyes protruding from their sockets.

"Exactly, Sassenach."

"You poor thing!"

"Aye, I am!"

"Surely, Alec doesn't believe that…."

"No, at least I dunno think so, or he would've killed me right there for debauching his mare. The man takes the well-bein' o' his beasties verra seriously! And did far worse to others for far less than that! But still…."

Recalling something he had said, I inquired,
"Only... well, you said a few times, didn't you? I mean before, the first time all this happened. I can understand feeling a bit, how shall I put this, a bit unsatisfied now, with knowing what you know, but then?"

"I dinna plan on it!" he cried out defensively "'Twas only… weel only, I would finish an'... An' I kept on lookin' t' your window, perhaps on the off chance ye'll come, this time, an' that led to me carrying- on thinkin' o' ye, an' …. O bleeding Jesus! It kept getting itself up, Sassenach! happy?"

As a matter of fact, I was actually. My laughter was so near the surface that I could feel my whole face contort with the effort of holding it in.
If I let it out now, I would be literally rolling up and down the hay, and I could not, in good conscience, do that to him.
Not after his very brave, excruciating confession to me, which I recognized as a very humiliating apology on his part for snapping at me before.

He did deserve to maintain some dignity for that.

It was hard, though. I was clutching my midsection, gasping for breath.

"Ye laugh, an' I'll bloody throttle ye!" He hissed at me snappishly.

I simply nodded in return, unable to open my mouth at the moment. For in the event, I was to move, I would simply explode.

"My point bein', Sassenach!" he said in measured tones, seeing the state I was in "That I'm obviously losing my mind and sanity. May I please share your bed before I burst or get myself 'ootright killed? I'm too old for all of this!"

"You are the exact age you were when we first met," I pointed out logically, having taken a bit more control over myself.

"Aye, but I'm much the wiser. An' I ken what 'tis like to sleep wi'oot ye and wi' ye, an' I chose, nay I must have the latter. So…."

"So…," I tarted back, smiling and cocking an eyebrow at him,
"how do you propose we should go about handling that?"

---

The decision made.
Or to be accurate about it, I decided that since Jamie knew every nook and cranny of Leoch, it would be up to him to orchestrate the location and time for such things to come to fruition. And according to him I… well,
'I am to be agreeable and compliant to whatever and however he decides that things should be'.
This being a direct quote from the horse's mouth.

Alec did not interrupt us this time; he was obviously keeping his distance from his young protégé.

After what transpired in the stables, I was sure Jamie would have preferred to be awakened by having the horse kick him in the head than at being caught such.
I felt sorry for him, and truly hoped it would cause him no more trouble than it already had, or draw more unwarranted gossip around him.

Funny as I found the matter to be; beautiful, rugged terrains, and distinct cultural markings were not in abundance here as loose lips and taut ears; them being aplenty in the Highlands.

Jamie was one of the smartest, quick-witted men I knew.
He instinctively knew how to control and conduct himself in almost any situation he stumbled upon, or that stumbled upon him. I hated to think such attributes would be doubted over a silly misunderstanding.

I mean, how absurd it was that all this avalanche tumbled over for the simple fact that all propriety and etiquette were thrown out the window when it came to the people closest to him.
Jenny could make him lose his temper and composure in a heartbeat, Ian could docile him just as fast with his kindness and reconciling manner.
And then there was me.
Neither of us could ever be indifferent or quail regarding each other, or toward each other.
For better or worse, we affected each other in the most profound and gut-wrenching way; more than I have ever known to be possible between two people.
After today's tale, I feared what would happen if we would not be able to find our way to becoming more apathetic and merely civil with each other.
We simply had to!

To publicly show our feelings to one another was to risk Colum taking steps to keep us apart, so he could bequeath his position to Jamie as the next Laird of Castle Leoch when the time came.
Jaime was quite equivocal in his manner when he pointed that fact to me, and I quickly gathered, reading between the lines, that quite like I had words with Dougal in the cave and found out regarding his ulterior motives for having me and Jamie wed, so was there another exchange between Jamie and Colum.
Taking place, most likely, when we returned to the castle after our marriage.
And whatever transpired between them, Jamie seemed quite scared of his reaction, if he was to find out about us now.
Which made sense, the man held the fates of both of our lives, at the moment.
I had no one on my behalf to question if I was to go suddenly missing or vanish from the face of the earth, and Jamie needed Colum's protection and care desperately at this point in time.

And then there was Dougal.
If he was to realise that he wasn't merely using Jamie's good heart and compassion to save a poor woman- meaning I - from a fate far worse than death by the hands of Randall, if he was to realise that it was our will to marry, he would most likely extort Jamie out of everything he has.
Especially, but knowing Dougal not exclusively, regarding Lallybroch, funds in Jamie's custody or under his name, Jamie's tenants, and how all of those could be donated for his precious cause and the coming battle.
It was who Dougal was, he couldn't help himself, or could he find the man or woman he didn't wish to master or manipulate.

We couldn't have that.

We wanted to wash our hands completely clean of everything that brought us to that point in time where we held each other, thinking this was the end.
The moment where he would die, and I would be forced to live without him for the sake of a child that would never know its father.

No. We had to find a way to control ourselves.

We needed Dougal to give us the opportunity to marry under Colum's nose.
We needed him to force or guile a priest, so as to perform the ceremony without reading the banns, so no occasion would arise for someone to try and forestall our union.
And we couldn't just run and elope by ourselves either.
We did consider that.
But with a price on his head, and Randall after us both, we needed Colum's and castle Leoch's power and protection available to us.

It was a choice between the devil we could manipulate instead of the devil's we couldn't.

Besides, Jaime pointed out that he did manage to fool Dougal once, making him think he was only obediently following his orders when he married me.
He, most certainly, could do so again.

But above all other things- he claimed, with a smile that varied from amorous to licentious- he really had his heart set on seeing my in that dress again!

As I walked back down through the meadow, returning from the stables, and ruminating on it all, I added a small secret smile, by bringing forth to mind my husband's and my little tete-a-tete today.

It will be fine,
I told myself, feeling at once sang-froid for having even such a short amount of time with him.
We will endure,
I asserted, as I walked on;
dear, old, faithful Rupert at my heels.

Business back to usual.

.=+=+=+

---

For the next few days I was determined, yet again, to maintain a simple routine as I had done before.
It was a good as any proposition, in order to busy my mind.
Though with Jamie's suggestion in mind, I would include some inexplicable behavior in the form of a few unexplained acts and wayward questions addressed to the 'wrong' man, in order to keep the suspicion surrounding me ongoing.
Not too much so as to instigate violent, defensive, placing my life in peril requites against me, but just enough to make the 'top-hats' want me around and under their watchful eye.
It would be a fine line to walk on, but I was doggedly insistent on walking it.
Besides, I walked it before naturally, by just being me; how hard could it be to pace it deliberately?

.=+=+=+

Unfortunately, implementing such deeds and comportment meant I was tenaciously followed and observed by Angus, Rupert or even Dougal, who had now taken it upon himself to surprise and unnerve me by popping up from time to time, unexpectedly from one dark alcove or the next.
The upshot to this being, that Jamie could not even come close to me without being spotted by them, and there for placing me, which also meant him, in jeopardy.

Despite my stubbornly persistent inquiries into his condition and well-being, and my exigent assertiveness that he needed to be treated by me, I was routinely thanked for my consideration and concern, but emphatically dismissed and informed that the young man was quite alright, and did not require my assistance or specialty.

I knew all too well, that these were not Jamie's sentiments on the matter, but had more to do with their fear that he might blurt more damaging, incriminating details in my presence, which might be swiftly carried off to the English.
Clearly, the counterblow to his observed conduct with me thus far.

Good grief, what was even crossing their minds? Even if I had any secrets at my disposal, did I keep a homing pigeon in my room to make its way back to the English?

A room, by the by, that was holding clear indications of being searched on a regular basis.
At Mrs. Fitz behest, I would go out to the gardens to help harvest food for the kitchen as part of my daily chores, or on the days, or hours my surgery held no one in it.
I had no doubt that she held no knowledge of such things transpiring, but upon returning, I would notice some things moved, some even taken away.
After a few scientific experiments, my hypothesis was confirmed.
Someone was making sure I did not possess a single thing more than what was given to me.

It did start to feel like a prison. And without Jamie by my side to help make any discomfort bearable, I was growing restless.

Besides, I needed him.
It wasn't even that almost a week had passed since we went through the stones and still we had not found one bloody occasion to be alone and touch. Well… it wasn't only that.
It was that I wanted my husband, and not only in my bed.
I wanted to watch him smilingly devour his food across the dinner table, all the while telling me about his day, between bites.
I wanted him to be the last thing I saw before going to sleep at night, and to wake up feeling a warm spot where his lips left a mark, either of a bite or a kiss, or even just a whisker-rash of his still unshaved bristle on me, before he had left for his day.
I wanted to hear him curse and get upset over other people's stupidity or unacceptable behavior, or to see him turn green when I told him what a very interesting looking fistula I encountered treating a patient.
And yes goddammit, to be honest about it, I wanted him inside me!
The two of us becoming one, leaving the world and all the people in it to fend for themselves, in order to enjoy the pleasures of our joining flesh and the merging of our souls.

I was growing so desperate, I had begun constituting a new habit of standing at my window, on the off chance I would be able to see him on the ground below, or in hopes of him at least being able to see me through that damn window in the stables.

Something would have to be done and soon!

---

~?+**~?+=&&&

"God bless Mrs. Fitz and her wonderful and welcomed idea of putting me to work outside, foraging and touching growing things, once more. For without such dealings with nature, I would surely become a homicidal murderer against all around me and myself included,"
I told myself as I bent to pluck a pale, beige colored, tiny mushrooms.

"Those kind are poison."

Bloody hell, again?!
I thought, rubbing my head, again; having bumped it on the tree branch, again, and turning to see, yet again….

"Geillis" I exclaimed, feeling foolish over making the same mistake, and cross with myself for being so absorbed in my own little melodrama to have forgotten my friend.
For she was that; my friend.
In another timeline, she gave up her own life for mine.
Dear Lord, how could I forget!?

"How d'ye ken me?" she puzzled, frowning and seeming taken aback at that.

"Oh… I-I don't," I grasped for an explanation, "I only… well, as you see,"
I raised the mushroom in my hand to her line of sight,
"I dabble in plants and medicinal remedies, and was told that there was another in Cranesmuir with a similar inclination to my own. I was actually hoping to meet you,"
I came toward her, extending my hand,
"I'm-"

"I know who ye are too, Claire. The village has been humming of talk o' ye since ye came to the castle. But how did ye ken 'twas me they spoke of?" she smiled interrogatively, adding a sly pointed, magic-green-eye stare that, as always, intended to unnerve and uncover other's secrets.

"Oh, I hope you will not think me too forward, but you are most unique and memorable; or so it seemed at least to those who described you to me," I said, smiling in genuine pride over my cunningness, and with joy to have had the privilege to see her so well and whole again.

"Why, I take that as a compliment. One shouldna aspire t' leave this world unremembered or uninfluenced by him, d'ye no agree?" she said, giggling in true Geillis fashion.

I nodded, and the conversation proceeded exactly as it did when it first transpired.
And thank the good Lord for that, for I could spare only half a mind for it.
The other part, the larger part of me to be exact, kept mulling over my choices at the moment.
Should I tell her?
How much should I tell her?
Should I only mention about us both being time travelers?
(goodness, I was, actually, what one might call a time traveler!... for some reason, that was something I could never find myself growing accustomed to).

Should I tell her about the trial, the danger, the truly doomed cause?
And were I to tell her now, before we even grew to become friends, would she even lend me her ear and believe me, or just remain set in her ways?

She was the epitome to a devoted Jacobite.

Inferring from what she told me, during our time in thief's hole, I suspected she traveled more than two hundred years to the past intentionally, only for the sake of the cause. Chasing the dream of a free Scotland. Giving up her life, her standing, and fortune so as to change the rebellion's outcome in the pages of history.
Would someone like that throw in the towel, now?

Worse than that, what if me telling her, will only result in something bad for me and Jamie? Could I take the risk?
And did I even have the right to make such a decision, which could so dramatically affect both of our lives without at least telling him of it first?

So, many other inquiries plagued me, demanding my attention and reply,

What if she was genuinely enamored with Dougal, would she not confide in him then?
I had no clear notion how strong or how deep her adoration and devotion to him ran, but the hurt in her eyes when I told her he left, with no opposition to Colum's decree, spoke volumes, piercing even the heavy darkness in the hole.

With all these considerations in mind, the least desirable outcome would be that she will view me as a threat to her precious cause and turn against me.
She could decide to eliminate what she perceived to be obstacles, meaning me and Jamie, in her path.
Just as Dougal did; or at least tried.
Her station- given she was sharing a bed and an ear with Dougal, while still being married to the fiscal- was high...Oh, dear Lord… Arthur!
She was capable of murder, I reminded myself.
All of that, and all of the unknown allies she must have gathered along her fight for the cause would make me a rather feeble rival.

For the love of God, I was formerly bested by a sixteen-year-old girl with a crush!

I had reached the decision to keep my mouth shut, at least until I could speak with Jamie on the matter, and work on gaining Geillis friendship and trust, as I had before.
The woman I left behind at the trial was not the kind that would be so willing to do away with me.

"You should come visit me sometime, down in the village," her voice brought me back from my deliberations.
"I have a cabinet full o' potions an' medicinal, I wager will tickle your fancy."

I nodded again enthusiastically, thinking to myself that should I choose to tell her anything, that would be a much appropriate venue to do so in.

"But I hope I'll see ye tonight, at the hall," she added.

The hall!

I had completely forgotten.

I would finally be able to see Jamie!

---

~?+**~?+=

~?+**~?+=&&&

The hall, as everything else, was exactly the same as before.

The bagpipes.

Colum, gingerly and painfully waddling across the room, clad in his best, hair loose and combed,
taking his seat on his 'throne', at the end of what must have been for him an excruciating, long 'journey', but stood as a hardy reminder of his character and competence as laird of the clan.

Dougal walking proud and tall a step behind him, and then settling himself to stand at Colum's right side.

The tenants already standing in wait in the dining hall, which was stripped of all its furniture in advance, and varnished in reverence to the coming proceedings.

One by one, or two by two, to be exact, they were called forth in their turn;
approached with the utmost respect, and pleaded their cases, to be determined and mediated by their laird.

It really was exactly the same, verbatim.
Even if I still couldn't fathom more than half the words, it all rang true in accordance to the last time I witnessed the whole thing.

The only thing that wasn't the same, was the huge gaping hole in the shape of my husband, which stood, or didn't stand to be exact, at Murtagh's side.

I kept glancing in all directions, seeking him amongst the crowd, hardly listening to Geillis' translation and explanations regarding the proceedings.

Where was he? Did he not realise this was our one chance to see each other?
I knew we would not be able to touch or be alone for a single second, but to just see him or perhaps slip in a word or two.
Surely he would want that too? Little as it was.

"What's wrang wi' ye, Claire?" Geillis stopped her narrating, and was scrutinizing me suspiciously, "ye've been wigglin' aboot like ye got snakes crawlin' under your petticoats. Who are we lookin' for? A new lover perhaps?" She suggested keenly, "Or an old one that ye came after?"
She began eagerly searching all around for my sultry, gossip-worthy paramour.

"What?" I said, giving what I hoped was my best impression of contempt to such a notion even being suggested.
Although, she was frighteningly and cannily right.
"Come now, Geillis. Don't be absurd. It's not that at all. It's only that if you heard one, you've heard them all."
And if you heard them once before, no need to hear them again!
I added, but only to myself.
"I'm just-"

My words trailed off as Laoghaire appeared, dragged mercilessly through her arm by her father;
humiliated, but silent and submissive.
I could almost feel sorry for her;
only another part of my brain intervened and reminded me of how those lashes felt on my back.
Each and every one.
Well, I did say I could almost feel sorry for her, not that I would!

"Uh-oh," Geillis' voice chimed in my ear, pulling me out from my reverie.
"Her father accuses her of loose behavior," she whispered, with her finger pressed lightly to her lips as if sharing a secret, while said father went on stating his claim.
Geillis sounded over the moon, for having finally the opportunity to witness something interesting developing.
"Her father wishes the Makenzie to have her punished for disobedience," she went on with her account of the affair.

Silence fall across the hall, everyone waiting to see what will be determined.

Me, already knowing what the decision would be, bowed my head and thought that I would excuse myself; not having any interest in seeing it dispensed.
'There's nothing you can do to stop it, Beauchamp,'
I stated in my mind, after empathy won over all other emotions; and thoughts of how I might prevent this from happening began circling in my head.
'But you at least should not be watching this.'
I asserted.

Colum announced his decision, as last time, and three men came forward, two to seize her by each arm, and Rupert to implement the penalty.

"Geillis, I don't think I want to watch this," I said, already turning my back from the whole tableau, and preparing to leave.

"STADADH A-NIS,"
Jamie's voice came rumbling across the hall, and the throne of people parted in his wake;
allowing for the figure of my disappearing husband to show itself fully, as he came to stand in front of 'Himself', pleading in Laoghaire behalf.

"His offerin' t' take the girl's…" Geillis' faithful chronicling started up again,

"Yes, I know!" I snapped barbarously, feeling my face contort, and my lips closing themselves to a nonexistent line.
Surely he wouldn't, he wouldn't dare!

"How d'ye ken that?" Geillis was surprised, but still managed to fix me with a prying stare.
I didn't answer her, and she didn't press the matter further, but returned instead to her commentary of the far more interesting goings-on than my silly lapse of judgment.
"They're arguin' it now."

I couldn't!
I told myself.
There was no way I could go and slap him in front of everyone, no way.

"He allows it," she said,

And I will kill him,
I thought.

Laoghaire extricated herself from the men, and ran straight into the loving, worrisome arms of her grandmother.

"He chooses fists;" Geillis' voice came again in my ear.

"And I'm not interested in watching," I answered austerely, turning on my heels and storming out.

Gossip and scandal by dammed!

~?+**~?+=

~?+**~?+=&&&

I half ran down the corridors, turning left or right, but seeing nothing.

He wouldn't, he couldn't, this is not happening!
But he would, he did, and as I left the hall I could already hear the sound of Rupert's fists rebound off my husband's body.
This was happening.

I collapsed, at some point, in one of the hallways I passed through; my back leaning against the cold stone wall.
To see me he didn't come; to save the girl he did?
I asked incredulously.

Perhaps he was under the impression that just a mere glance at me is not significant enough to warrant the danger of being caught in the act,
I tried excusing his behavior.

But saving that girl was?!
My anger replied, gaining the upper arm in this discussion.

Don't be silly, and stop this at once, Beauchamp.
I berated myself.
You are not a silly love-crazed child; you are his wife, the woman he loves. He had proven that more times than naught! Too many times for you to ever doubt it!

Only, he never explicitly said he didn't harbor some feelings toward the girl as well!
Do you not recall the amorous kiss in the alcove, or should I bring forth that image for you to see again?
Retorted the same, angry, dark part of my mind.

Jamie is an honorable man,
I countered back, using the logical part of my brain that did not accommodate the insult over what he had just done.
Perhaps, he felt compelled to try and save her; again.

As he saved you. By marrying you, by saving you from Randall, by fighting for your life and honor.
The same way he is doing for her now!
The godforsaken, dark part of my mind was not backing down without a proper fight.

Yes, Jamie is an honorable man, he would stand by his vows to the day he died.
But what if he would have made those same vows to someone else?
The shady part of me was now fighting fire with fire, and was using my own logic against me.
What if Dougal did not plot and conspire to marry the two of you? And what if Jamie was a good enough match for Laoghaire, rather than an outlaw with a price on his head?

What was it he had said to me?
"I'm no much of a prospect for a wife…"
And,
"No father wants his daughter marrit to a man who might be arrested, an' hanged any time, d'ye e'er think o' that?"

I was thinking of that, now.
In that respect, I was a good match for him, I had no father or family to object on my behalf.
I was a runaway just like him.

Was ours a love born of necessity and convenience for him?
I had lived here long enough to see how complete strangers that hardly ever spoke to each other for more than an hour, married at their parent's behest, and are as committed and loving to one another as much as Jamie and I are.

Were,
added the part that held all my fears and insecurities.
What if he had felt predilection to us both and it was me being available to him that made the scales tilt in my favor?

Jamie is a very passionate man, and at the time, he wanted… needed a wife, badly.

And Laoghaire...Laoghaire is young, healthy and could probably bear him lots of healthy, living children,
the part of me that lodged and preserved all my doubts and inadequacies regarding myself spoke aloud now, this time choosing a wrenching, cut-throat, still bleeding spot to strike at.
She could give him the big family he craved, which I, heretofore, had failed to do.

I know I went along with Jamie's assumption about my children… regarding our children. But there were two of them, and if returned to me or not, I had just lost my second.
A great part of my urgent need to see Jamie of late was to do with that.
I was still very much brittle from it all.
I was still suppressing gnawing fears that eroded Jamie's certainty that they will be returned to us, and that, this time, I could keep them safe.
I needed to hear his voice again, telling me in no uncertain terms that it will be fine, and I needed him to share the burden of the lost with me, temporary as it may be, and even if, for tonight, it will only be with a smile.
I awaited with bated breath to see that reassuring gesture today at Hall.
And all that anticipation had now made the searing hurt that was caustically spreading through my bones all that acute.

Tears were running along my cheeks, and my feet, who were horizontal thus far, keeping my legs folded and taut to me, slowly skidded across the floor, flopping themselves to both directions.
Bereft of speech and strength, my legs simply laid stretched out, vertically, on the ground before me, as my downcast face regarded my palms, who were placed atop of my womb, which may have just laid there flat and empty, now, but ghostly recalled the sensation of being swelled with life.

Laoghaire wouldn't have lost their baby, would she?
Now no logic spoke in my head, only the part of me that blamed me for being an inadequate mother and woman.
I was familiar with this part of old, he had first materialized, back when Frank and I tried to conceive.

All this wasn't only about the children, and the family I wanted to bequest Jamie with, and had failed hitherto, and the one I never had myself, and coveted to attain.
No, those only opened the floodgates that dammed all I tried to barricade and never think of, or look upon again.

Laoghaire wouldn't have also gotten herself into so much trouble, so many times, which consequently effectuated Jamie to get hurt or be in danger in order to save me, time and again.

No, she was the meek and obedient type. The kind all the men of this time sought after.
She would wait for him at home, and when he'd return to her.
She would rise from the sewing she was probably so apt at.
She would bring him his supper, which was, reasonably, only one of the many things Mrs. Fitz tutored her on how to make.
She could keep him clothed and fed.
She wouldn't ask him to make impossible promises.
She wouldn't have entered into the marriage with such a turbulent, volatile past that will forever bind him in a way to a man that raped him, and lacerated his body and soul.

She could do all the things I could not do.
She could be, and give him all the things that were not in my hands to bestow.

She was simple, and presently, HER hands were still clean.
After Paris, mine were not.

What had started as an irate, justifiable rant, born out of Jamie's actions- one that would have blown over after a short while, as my anger would've subsided, and my hurt ego would've licked its wounds- was now coming to a close with me realising my own fault and imperfections, and reaching the conclusion that perhaps I have done wrong by Jamie by marrying him.
I mean, the evidence to that was at hand. In the shape of how things came to their end.
Jamie was going to be slaughtered, and I was to flee to safety.
Perhaps, I had now received the opportunity and wherewithal to give him what I could not provide him with before.

They do say that if you truly love someone, you should desire only the best for them.
As you do with a child, giving him selfless boundless love, and what he needs, not what the parent wants.

Would Jamie be better off without me?
Wouldn't this truly be the fresh slate we wanted to turn?
And was Laoghaire the one change that might save his life in the end?

It wasn't petty jealousy that now guided my thoughts, such deliberations ran far deeper than that; rooted in the dark corners of my mind, where one keeps his utmost, hidden dreads.

I cradled my head in my hands, and simply fall apart.
~?+**~?+=

~?+**~?+=&&&

"Mistress? R'ye weel, mistress? Shall I fetch someone for ye?"

I raised my face to look upon an extremely handsome, perfectly oval face; looking down at me, and appearing to be extremely concerned.
The stranger had light brown chestnut hair that was no less fluid and plush over the shortness of his length, reaching just below his ears, and pulled in a light flowy wave to the right.
His large laguna- light- blue eyes, shaped as laid on their sides drops of rain, were scrutinizing me for some sort of injury or harm, which he probably assumed would legitimize my position and obvious distress.
His tanned complexion, that made him seem as if he was backed in a fire to a light golden-brown hue, were creased with worry lines over me.

When I was a child, this was precisely how I imagined prince charming to look like, even with such a disturbed scowl on his otherwise charming, fairylike, marked with effortless grace features.
Not that I had much mind, or desire to spare a thought on the matter at the moment.

I stuttered something in thanks, alluding that I was fine.
I even tried to rise on my feet to attest to the fact; only I rose too fast, and swayed as a result.

He caught me by my elbow, swiftly and skillfully. Instincts clearly finely tuned.
He smelled of vinegar, olive oil and… steel?
And was very sturdy for such a lean and tall physique, I thought absentmindedly.

"Nay, ye're nae fine at all," he determined, through a pair of not so full lips, but so wide so as to seem as if they were always stretched in a smile.
"Come, I'll see ye safely t' yer room, shell I? Which way is it, then?"
His accent wasn't Scottish, it was... Irish, yes! I recognized the inflection.

"It's fine. I'm fine, I assure you of that. I thank you greatly, but my room is just…" my words trailed off as I looked around, baffled.
In my distress, I had aimlessly wandered around the corridors and managed to get myself truly lost.
"Fuck!" Escaped my lips.

His eyes gaped open for a brief second, but then returned to their almond-like shape, and the stranger resumed his, thus far at least, solicitous expression.

I'll bet good money, Laoghaire wouldn't have cursed, I berated myself.

"I spend some time in England, and heard the word my fair share, but I must confess to having never heard it from a beautiful, clearly of gentle birth, lady before," he smiled, joshing with me more than at me.

He was reacting in such an understanding, warmhearted way that I found myself smiling sheepishly over his kindness to my bluntness.

"I'm sorry. I..." I fumbled apologetically, feeling myself blush over such indiscretion on my part.

"Ye're upset, an' by the look of ye a bit lost, perhaps? And ye simply felt the need to articulate it properly," he explained me to… well, myself, still remaining ever so sympathetic and friendly as he did so.

Jamie does that all the time,
I thought, and felt a new, warm tear run across my cheek.

"Oh dear, dinna feel sorry on my account," he begged of me, his concerned frown returning in the process.
He hurriedly tucked his hand to his sleeve, produced, and handed me a beautiful, fresh, white linen kerchief, with a heather flower embroidered in its corner.

The flower, also called "vulgaris" in Latin, meaning "common", was as his name most common in Ireland and Scotland, and used in everything from bedding, to roof thatch, to flavoring beer or tea.
The pink-red flowers also symbolized admiration, good luck, and were believed by many here to hold protective powers in them.
The last two, being sorely lacking and in high demand by me at the moment.

The compassionate young man brought the offered token a bit closer toward me, offering it to me yet again, and widening his smile reassuringly,
"Ye ken, I always thought the world would be a better place if everyone spoke their truth, no matter whit 'twas."
He spoke his words to me as if we were close confidants, leaning a bit closer toward me as if to allude that my foul mouth will remain in secret between us friends.

"Yes, INDEED," I said emphatically, thinking of Jamie and Laoghaire.

I felt bad to soil such a beautifully embroidered cloth, but he insisted, and I blotted my face.
When I tried returning his goods back to him, he pulled his hands back in protest and refused to accept it, no matter what I said.

"Ye keep it. If e'er the occasion were to arise, I would feel it a personal honor, bestowed by ye, to allow this small token to assist ye again," he declared in the utmost sincerity.

He really had a way about him to put one at ease.
Quite a magical sense, I asserted my first impression.

"I thank you for your kindness Mr...?"

"Oh dear, ye must forgive me, mistress. A thousand apologies for forgetting myself such. I'm MacLiver, Luke MacLiver. Yer servant ma'am," he rose to his full length and bowed deeply.

A gentleman then.

He straightened, and spoke as a confidant to me once more.
"In truth, my full, given Christian name is Lucas, but after such intimate exchange of words between us,"
he said teasingly, referring to my profanity, "I'd find myself especially in yer debt if ye would find me affable enough to call me Luke."

Dear lord, I must look a frightful mess, to spur such sympathy and manners.

"I thank you kindly Mr. MacLive…. I mean, Luke," I corrected myself, seeing his raised eyebrow at my formality.

"Shall we begin our hunt for yer allusive chamber then?"
He offered me his arm, and in my need to not be alone right now, and the remembrance of what happened last time I wandered the halls of this castle unchaperoned, I took it.

---

~?+**~?+=

~?+**~?+=&&&

Jamie fell to the ground with the final blow.

Christ, was it even harsher this time around?

Never mind, she'll fix him right, she always does,
he thought as he rose to his feet, with Murtagh's help.

He bowed in thanks to Colum, knowing this will foil any further attempt by Dougal to subject him to additional abuse.
And although hardly feeling himself able to, over the growing stiffness in his body, he none the less bowed to Rupert to show there were no hard feelings.
Then, braced by Murtagh for support, he turned to leave the hall.

He raised his head to where Claire stood last time, but was unnerved to find only the lewd, conniving, but always inviting smile of Geillis Duncan.

Where was she?

He wanted to stop, but Murtagh was dragging him on.

"Blubbery, stinkin' fool of a child ye are! Are ye daft, ye clot-heided boy? What in the name of all that is holy, did ye go an' do that for, then?" Murtagh was scolding him profoundly, but he had no ear for it.

She would be waiting for him in the room near the kitchen where they put him in last time. That was it,
he concluded.
Puir thing, she could ne'er stomach seeing him get hurt.
He smiled at that, and at the thought of the scolding his wife was about to lay on him.
That scolding he would listen to.

He would watch her eyes flare at him, her exasperation making her breasts rise and fall in deep harsh breaths, her face so close to his so as to make her point very clear….
Lord, it has been too long!

"Whit r'ye smilin' at, ye wee gomerel?" Murtagh demanded.

"Naught," he wiped the smirk from his face.
"Only thinkin' o' the rewards of a good deed," he added, feeling the spring in his step returning.

It was more than a week since they been together, now.
Three days last he spoken to her.

He lay every night unable to find his sleep; tossing and turning, twisting to all directions, and still failing to find one position of comfort.
There was a void where his wife belonged.
A lump in the shape of her missing to cuddle with, or even not to touch but to at least feel and hear by his side.

It was like one of those tales she would tell him about, in their nights in Paris, when all the vigour and strain of the day made him unable to get a wink of sleep.
Her soft voice now rang in his ears, and the remembrance of her touch lulling him back to slumber was almost felt on his skin again.

One of the tales spoke of a princess and... what was it? A seed? Nay, a pea that was it. Aye, a pea.
That made him laugh. How could one feel a pea?
She must have been a very cockered princess.

His wife was high born as well, but could sleep anywhere it was needed of her, he thought proudly.
Never shying away from earth, soil, dirt, or hay.
Oh Mother of God, what he'd give to roll her up in some hay right now!
He covertly adjusted himself under his kilt.

They arrived at the room, as last time, Murtagh lowering him to the same wee bench by the hearth.

"Whit r'ye looking for?" Murtagh looked him over, concerned, two brows knitting into one.

"Naught," Jamie said as his eyes darted from one shadowed corner in the room to the next, trying to spot her.
"I just had it in mind that…"
Possibly she went to bring supplies and such, so that Mrs. Fitz wouldna need to disturb them later, as she did before?

"Nay, lad, ye had naught in mind, now did ye?"
His godfather lowered himself to crouch in front of him.
"Jamie, e'er since we arrived here a' Leoch, ye've been runnin' 'round actin' like, like… Christ lad, I canna e'en find the words!"
Murtagh's tone was accusatory, but was also pervaded with such concern that Jamie was compelled to tear his eyes from searching for his wife, and look down at the man's troubled face.
"I think we should leave here. I'm truly concerned ye're becomin' a feeble-minded gyte. Nae that I ken why, for the life o' me."

Murtagh was right.
Away from her, he was going mad.
Jesus, is this how he would've been if he had in fact lost her as she crossed through the stones?
Only, he was doing them no service by going on and carrying himself such.

"I'm fine now, Murtagh, or I will be fine," he tried placating his always attentive friend. "'Twas truly just an act o' kindness on my part.
D'ye no recall what happent to me? Lashed in the hall over what I did to Mrs. Fitz?"
He leaned forward, placing a reassuring hand on his guardian's shoulder.
"Figured I owed her somethin' for that," he said with a smile.

"An' what of all the rest?" Murtagh retorted, remaining still unconvinced.

"I told ye afore; the pain in my shoulder. 'Tis makin' me fratchetty."

"Ye'v been hurt worst afore!" Murtagh added pointedly.
"Are ye feverish then?"

"Nay, I dinna think so. 'Tis only the strap holding my arm, 'tis making me feel as if I'm crippled," Jamie said, trying to ward off the condemnations against him.

"Remove it then!" Murtagh asserted.

"I canna, Mistress Beauchamp said-"

"Mistress Beauchamp, Mistress Beauchamp…. That's another thing lad, whit's wi' ye an' the Sassenach? Ye reckon none can see the looks?"

"I was just lookin', she's bonny naught else!"
He had seen others look as well, and, well, he was tempted to wreak havoc and do harm against the wee bastards that were doing so; it was as good an excuse as any.

"An' whit aboot... weel, lad, whit's wi'... Oh, Christ, ye doit! I must say it embarrasses me greatly t' take such liberties wi' ye on such matters, Jamie, but I would be remiss if I wouldna call ye on such things!"

"Weel, 'oot wi' it, dinna be so gassy aboot it, man," Jamie replied, his tone conflated with acrimony and gall.
The hurt in his shoulder was getting worst, and he was starting to feel a bit too left out in the dark over too many things as of late, chiefly at the moment, for having no idea where is wife was at.

"Weel then," Murtagh lashed back at him over Jamie's harsh tones against him, "whit wi' runnin' e'ery day from the stables, hidin' behind walls, an' climbin' trees so as to see her?! Ah, why do that then? Good heavens, d' ye think they dunno see ye?!

"Who?" He asked, starting to be slightly concerned himself now at being spotted when he thought himself the paradigm of discretion.

"Everyone! But Dougal and Colum in particular!" Murtagh said, riled, and rose to his feet in marked exasperation.

That shocked Jamie out of his stupor.
He was, in fact, feeling angry, restless, impulsive, and had no way of thinking straight, but he was sure such things were kept under his belt, only for him to endure.
If his current proclivities were known to others around him, it needed to end, and it needed to end now!

Why, he had almost stabbed himself with the fork whilst gathering straw.
He had nearly clipped his foot right off with the axe whilst splitting firewood.
He quarreled with anyone that dared approach him.
And had thrown things, many things to be exact, when he was told he was denied audience with Claire for his mending.

Christ, how was she doing this? Just going on with her life without him?

He would spy on her, watch her from a safe distance. Or at least so he thought.
He would catch small glimpses of her as she went around the fields and gardens, talking to herself (he could see her mouth move), and he yearned to hear what she was saying, pined to hear her voice and words.

He had done such things in the past, last time that is, but not in such frequency, and had not gone to such lengths as now.
Did they all notice then too?
Was that why Dougal was all smiles and smugness when he proposed the marriage to him? Did he ken he would never refuse?

Mrs. Fitz woke him for such bemusements by entering with her full of medicinals and jar of Leeches tray.

Seeing her, Murtagh shrugged heavily with a sigh, and concluded,
"Weel, I hope we wilna be needin' to speak o' it again, lad. Now get yersel mended, an', for the lord's sake, get some sleep, man! Ye look fair ratchet!"
And with an acknowledging nod to Mrs. Fitz, he departed.

"Here ye are, lad."
Mrs. Fitz having laid her salver on the table that stood three feet away from where he sat, came to carefully inspect him.
"Let's ha' a look at that eye," she said with great concern and care, laying her hand gingerly above his injured eye, and lifting her brows as if interrogating the correct course to take for his tending, "still bleeding under the skin. Leeches will help,"
she determined, and made her way back to her tray to fetch them.

Jamie sat there, gazing a few feet in front of him into nothing, bringing forth to mind how Claire, after the leeches were utilized, marveled at the sight of his closed eye becoming open again.
He recalled how it made her come so close to him, dip her face an inch from his, cup her hands on his face, in something akin to a caress.
A prospective touch to what he would, later on, be privileged to feel to its full potential.
The memory made the sting of her absence now all that unbearable, for she was, certainly, not here now to brush her fingers on him, in his time of need.

She was being smart, as he demanded of her.
She, no doubt, heard the rumors, observed people's suspecting gazes on them, and so took care to avoid him.
Otherwise, she would be here, attending to him, as she never failed to do.
She was caring for their future.
It was him who was the blubbering fool that let his emotion dictate his conduct, and it was time to put a firm end to that!

While sitting there, absorbed in his brown study, Mrs. Fitz had already successfully dispensed the treatment involving the wee bloodsuckers, and was now providing him with her remedies.

"Rinse yer mouth wi' this; t'will cleanse the cuts, an' ease the pain," she said benevolently.
After he had done so, she shook her head sympathetically at him, but with much the tender humor in her smile,
"Ye'll be a sight tomorrow, a bhalaich, no mistake, but at least ye'll be able to see 'oot o' that eye."

"Tapadh leat," he replied to her in frank appreciation.
Only, it was his wife and her touch on him that he hankered for, nay Mrs. Fitz's warmhearted squeeze on his shoulder now.

"Whit ye did was kindly meant, lad," she said, administering another well- meaning squeeze.
"An' If she has any mind at all, she'll thank ye hersel, an' I'll be sure t' tell her so," she said, adroitly gathering her things, and with a continues apace bustled out of the room with her goods.

He looked at the peats crackling in the hearth by his side; tiny, glowing- ember sparks flying irritably as a fresh one broke.
He sat there daydreaming on how at this point in time, he and Claire had said goodbye, thinking that she would be gone the very next day, never to be seen again.
He had felt as if she had aimed a pistol, and shot him straight through his chest;
and for a moment he was quite convinced his heart had, in fact, stopped its pulsation.
It resumed its cadence as thunder when he had wondered; would she let him kiss her goodbye?

She couldna go, nae now,
Jamie thought, then.
He had a dearth of time to court her properly, and he surely meant to.

Only he thought to wait.
For the mourning over her husband to wane.
For rumors and suspicion regarding her being a spy to subside.
And that time passing would make her come to know him and not to fear him;
to see him as a man, and nay an unbearable threat.
He had always seen her anger and defiance as a veil to her fear.
Something in him kent that once held, and comforted she would melt and subside.

And he had yet to be proven wrong, Claire was soft and tender as no other.
To him at least.
And her kindness knew no boundaries. She would help anyone in need.
And good Lord, how he needed her.

He heard the door creak behind him, and a smile so wide he thought might burst spread on his lips.
"I thought ye wouldna come, lass. I couldna stand it if ye didna come. I had to see ye!"

"I had to come."

Jesus!
Jamie's eyes popped open.
This was not Claire's voice!
Jamie whirled around in his seat to see how it was, but his shoulder made him grapple from the pain, and curl into a ball where he sat with his eyes shut.

A small slender arm reached for him
"Are ye weel, Jamie? Should I call for m' grandma?"

"NO!" He outcried, spitefully.
"I mean," he tried to correct his tone, "dinna fash, I'll do, Miss MacKenzie. I thank ye, but I'll do!"
He rose to his feet, avoiding her gaze.
Damn damnation, she had heard him!
He mustn't let her come to know he meant Claire, or within an hour the whole of the castle will be buzzing with the gossip.

Laoghaire MacKenzie was a child, she couldna be trusted to act any differently than that!
He thought, calling forth to mind the whole matter with the ill-wish doll under his and Claire's bed, which she placed there to evoke harm upon, at the time, his new bride.
So, he had to be shrewd here, and stride lightly, or at least start being one now, after mucking everything up for them.

"Ye should leave, lass. Now! Ye wouldna want them all to talk o' us, an' assume impropriety on our part."

"I wouldna mind," she said, keeking her eyes up at him shyly, and blushing.
She seemed hardly able to bring herself to fully look up at him.

Jamie gazed back down at her, and could not help but feel sympathy against such discomposure.
Whatever she had done before, she had not done yet.
And under duress, he had to admit to his part of the blame in the matter; he had, in fact, kiss and fondle the lass very affectionately.
But that piece of confession will never be admitted in Claire's ears!

"Did ye truly mean whit ye said, Jamie?" Laoghaire asked, taking a timid step closer to him.

"What?' He was awakened from his thoughts, realising he had been smiling, thinking of Claire and his fondling and kissing of her.
Christ, 'tis been too long! Where was she?!
He rubbed a knuckle down the bridge of his nose, and adjusting his features.

"I think we should leave here, lass!"
He had placed his palm on the lower part of her arm, so as to gently distance her away from him, and to allow for enough room between them to slip away, and take his leave.

"But ye said-"
Her palm suddenly, and eagerly jolted to where his was placed on her.
Holy Mary Mother of God, this wasna progressing as well it should.

"Aye, I ken what I said!" He said, tempestuously.
Could she nae let it go?!
Laoghaire's countenance clenched, and so did her palm that still held on to his.
"'Tis only, we should really be aff, ye see, such things are most indecent, an' are greatly frown upon," he wheedled softly.

In that exact moment, Murtagh entered the room, and Jamie rolled his eyes to the heavens in thanks.

"Aye, aye, Murtagh," he just about shouted at the man, pushing Laoghaire away from him, "ye be needing me for something, a charaid?"
Awaiting no reply from Murtagh, Jamie maneuvered his way away from the girl, and toward his saviour's side.

"I'll come wi' ye then," he said with an urgent wry smile.
He felt woozy, and pain shot up through all his insides, but short to a bullet to the head, he would not halt his egress from this room.

"Nae, I simply…" Murtagh struggled to let his words out, profusely embarrassed at having interrupted Jamie in what he perceived to be a compromising state.

"'Tis fine. We're done here, true lass?" Jamie said, reassuringly.

"Weel, 'tis only..." Laoghaire began moving toward them, "'tis only, I wished to say thanks to ye," she said tilting her head demurely as if suggesting he should stay.

"I'll leave ye to it then," said a flustered Murtagh from his left, and turned to take his leave from them.

Jamie's arm shot up toward him, seized him, and pulled Murtagh taut to his side.
"Nae!" Jamie clamored.
"I mean, I am unwell, an' must ha' your help wi' the reachin' o' my bed, Murtagh!" He hastily explained his conduct and tone.

"An' as for ye, lass," he only slightly turned his head to address her, now being the one between them that could not gaze upon the other, "surely there is nay need for gratitude. 'Twas the right thing to do, nay more, I assure ye! Keep yoursel weel then," he concluded leaning on Murtagh exaggeratingly as if he was feeling faint.

"I'm fair tired, a ghoistidh, best I go an' find my sleep!"
And he half dragged them both away by his own merit.

Nay, from now on he'll behave right by them. Claire deserved no less!

---

Notes:

dictionary:

paitçhey [=child]
himsel, hissel [= Himself]
faut [=fault]
bletherin [=Talking idly]
aff[=off]
mysel [=Myself]
sairy [=Sorry]
wrang [=Wrong]
aboot[=about]
Stadadh a-nis [=Stop now]
mairit [=Married]
gyte [=A madman, a fool]
afore[=before]
gassy[=given to idle/empty talk]
doit/ dyte [= Crazed, enfeebled or confused in mind]
yoursel / yersel[= Yourself]
Tapadh leat[=thank you/ an expression of gratitude]
hersel [=Herself]
Aff[=off]
a ghoistidh [=godfather]

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