Claire had made it to the embankment. The rapist had made no attempt to stop her when she left out the back door. He had not even noticed that she'd slipped away. There had been noise coming from the front room. Loud noises. Voices. Men arguing. Sounded like pushing and shoving also. He had stopped in the middle of raping her, pulled out and gone to the door to listen. Even cracked the door and peeked out. When he turned his back on her, she had quietly opened the back door and run She ran as fast as she could down the path to the beach. Damn, she should have untied his horse and scared it away so he'd have to face whoever was in the front room. He clearly recognized whoever was making the noise and did not want them to discover him.
He had not re-shackled her when he had turned away, that's why she could run. The irons were only locked to one leg. He could not do a proper job of swiveling her if her legs were shackled together he had snarled once. He needed her legs spread wide to "do a proper job" so he always unfettered one leg. The further he got his cock into her the faster he would have her with bairn he'd said. What a sweet talker he was.
Rupert had stayed with her until the rapist had arrived. She had not seen Rupert since. The rapist had been smart enough to take her to the blacksmith the first day he arrived to have the leg irons placed. He took her shoes when he left as well, "for good measure" he had said and laughed. Bastard. Without the irons she would have been long gone by now. Even barefoot. She had tried to run away once when she first got here; but Rupert, the fat shit had caught her quickly and dragged her back. He bound her hand and foot until the rapist arrived. She was sure her wrists and ankles were permanently scarred, Rupert had bound her so tightly. She reminded herself that she had thought she could just walk away from Castle Leoch. Look where that had landed her. She was afraid she'd never get away. She had her chance now. She would make the most of it; she would make it count.
She stopped long enough to pick up the end of the chain that was dragging behind her in the sand. It made it much easier to move her leg and now and she could run faster. Distance. She needed to get at least to the embankment before he noticed she was gone for her to have a chance. Whoever was on the other side of that door, the rapist was not pleased that they had found him. Almost like the bastard was afraid. Who could that be? It didn't really matter. With any luck she'd make it to the water and drown herself in the sea before he could catch her. That was the best and only plan. Death was more agreeable than being beaten and raped on a regular basis. If she ran and the rapist caught her again…she shuttered at the thought. She'd make it. She did not even slow down as she started down the embankment path that led to the sea. To peace.
She heard him calling her name now. Yelling at her. Telling her to stop. "Claire. Claire". That was the name only the rapist was allowed to call her. Everyone else had been told to call her Sorcha. Why, she had not a clue. She was sure Sorcha was some horrid Gaelic word for Slut or something. "Claire Stop." Well, she wouldn't. She'd make it to the water before he could catch her and that would be that. She looked forward not back and jumped the first wave and ran into the welcoming sea.
The rapist was a real Fucking Bastard this visit. She aways fought him; scratching, biting, kicking. She refused to be taken without a fight. She'd broken nails and possibly fractured a rib today while she fought him trying to keep him off her. Trying to keep him out of her. He had placed the pillow over her face again this visit. It was his new method of choice when he tired of her struggling and he needed to make her stop, make her more compliant. She would be unable to breath, to the point of almost passing out. When she stopped struggling, he'd remove the pillow and rape her. Sometimes he'd choke her, but then he'd have to watch her face as the life drained from her. He did not like that, she could see that in his face. He'd be angry enough to hurt her but he clearly did not want her to die. Guess he'd miss his new favorite toy, she thought. He had hit her twice in the face today as well; she would she would take her dress off when he told her to. He usually did not care if she kept her clothes on. Today he wanted to rape her naked. For some reason today it mattered to him. She thought perhaps he has broken her jaw this time. She'd stopped screaming because it hurt too much to move her mouth. It would no longer matter if she couldn't talk for weeks while it healed. Hopefully she'd be dead in less time than it would take her face to swell from the blows.
Once she had landed two good kicks to his groin and he had to go away unsatisfied because he couldn't get it up to rape her. He had beaten her pretty thoroughly in return. Broke her nose and two fingers. Worth it. That's when he had started the cutting. When he was finished raping her he'd take his small knife and mark her body. She was covered with cuts in various stages of healing. He had always left her with numerous new bruises and bites anyway. "Marking what was his," he said. Neanderthal.
She made it to the water. She did not stop, just ran right in. The waves were knocking her back but she was making forward progress. She could do this. End this nightmare. It would all stop. Here. Now. She dropped the chain. She needed both hands to help move her forward in the water; against the waves. She was in up to her calves. In passed her knees now. The water was up to her thighs… She kept moving forward. Deeper and deeper. Her eyes focused on the horizon. Keep moving forward she told herself. Don't listen to the voices. Even if they get closer. Stay focused on the water she told herself. Look to the horizon.
Jamie ran down the path to the embankment's edge. When he looks down to the sea Claire is up to her chest in water. "Claire" Jamie shouts at the top of his lungs. He kens she must hear him. Why has she not stop? Why is she still trying to run further into the sea? He removes his sporran, dirk and sword belts as he runs down the embankment. At the end of path, Jamie drops the plaid and throws his weapons on top of it and enters the water running. "Sassenach, please stop. Please," he shouts again. The water is past her shoulders and the waves are knocking her around so that she starts to swim. When he calls "Sassenach" she stops, turns and looks up the embankment. He turns and sees Murtagh at the top with the horses. He raises his hand to signal Murtagh to stay there. He is in water up to his waist, struggling to keep his balance while the waves slap him around when Claire turns and looks at him. The look stops him in his tracks. Her eyes are blank. No life to them. Totally void. No gleam of recognition in them; she has no idea who he is. None.
"Sassenach, it's me Jamie. Jamie MacTavish," he tries as he starts forward again. There it is, a flicker of something, then it is gone. She turns and continues to struggle into deeper water. She swimming now. Her arms are flailing. Then she is gone; totally under water. He can only see the very top of her head. A hand comes up out of the water as her head disappears under another breaking wave. He dives into the wave and comes back up and gets his footing. Another foot and he'll have to swim to keep his head above water. Where is she? He cannot see her. Is that a hand? He lunges and manages to grab hold of something and pulls it toward him. Her head comes up out of the water, spitting and sputtering. He has her wrist. He holds onto her in a death grip and backs up toward the shore, towing Claire with him. She is struggling to get free; splashing and flailing about. Pulling against him. When he is about chest deep he stops and lets her get her feet under her so she can stand. She does. She claws at his hand with her free one and manages to pull it free. She turns and dives back into deeper water. What is she doing? He leaps and grabs her again. This time it is her leg. He tows her with him as he walks back and stands her up and turns her around to face him. Both hands are gripping her arms. He is not letting go of her this time.
"Sassenach! Sassenach stop! It's me Jamie. Don't you recognize me?" with desperation in his voice.
The man has a grip on both her arms. She twists one and frees it from his grasp. She wipes the water from her face with the hand she has freed. She then pushes her hair out of her face and looks up to face him.
That's when Jamie realizes Claire is naked. And wet. And completely naked. Not even wearing a shift. Oh Lord, he can see her breasts. Her nipples. He averts his eyes. Trying only to look at her face. When the wave recedes…oh, Lord, is that her honeypot? Oh how he wants to continue to look down. No, No he is a Laird; a gentleman….This is Claire, his Claire, after all he reminds himself. He can feel his face going red.
Her plan has been thwarted. The man has caught her and dragged her out of her peaceful death. At least it is not the rapist. She breaks free and tries to go back but he easily catches her again. What now? She will not go back to the rapist. Oh, the man is looking at her with lust…She looks down and remembers she is naked. He is staring. He likes what he sees. She wipes her wet hair from her eyes and looks up. It is Jamie. Jamie MacTavish. She has always liked Jamie. He has always been kind to her. They have been friends. He was not too hard on the eyes either. Maybe Jamie…He would be better; at least nicer to her than the rapist. Maybe if he wanted her he would fight for her…maybe it would not be so bad with him…
A small light lit in Claire's eyes and she walks forward closing the yard or so distance between them. She then removes his hand from her arm and places it on her breast. When he does not take his hand from her breast she smiled at him. She steps forward. She has closed the three foot gap down to a foot while Jamie is still trying to process that he has his hand on Claire's breast and he can clearly see her nipple. If he just moves his thumb an inch he can touch it. And there is her other nipple, right there. He lifts his other hand up and is poised to place it on her other breast. Claire doesn't seem to mind. Really, she has placed his hand on the first one, hadn't she? That's when he realizes what is happening and he jerks his hands away like he has just grabbed a hot poker. He backs up two steps. Claire's hand dropped from his chest. Claire, still smiling, walks forward three steps and places her hand back on his chest. She is right up against him now. They are only in knee deep water. This time when she places his hand on her breast, she made sure his thumb is in contact with her nipple. She moves his thumb and Jamie notes it made her nipple hard, practically begging him to rub it more. OH! His eyes pop wide open and he looks down to see that Claire has her hand up under his kilt and has discovered the cockstand he is currently in possession of. And now it is in her possession. Oh God! He leans back and closes his eyes. He does not have a clue what she is doing but it feels so good. He moans as she slides her hand and thumb…that is her thumb?
He jumps back. Looking Claire straight in the eye loudly exclaims "Stop Sassenach." She gives him a mischievous look, licks her lips and walks forward. "Aye, clearly I want ya," he declares as he backs up out of the water with his hands straight out in front of him to prevent her from coming closer. "But no. No lass. Not like this. Not here. Not now."
She reaches for his cock again and he feels her fingers brush it when she grabs but his kilt is between them and the warrior in him has read her movement before she makes it. He leaps out of harms way.
"No. No Sassenach. Stop. Murtagh is watching, Sassenach. Stop!" he shouts and bats her hand away.
Jamie turns to look up at Murtagh and says, "I could use a little help down here. She's got eight arms….AHHH" Claire's hand has found its mark again.
Murtagh just sits back in the saddle, smiles and shakes his head.
He manages to get both Claire's hands physically off him and bends down, picks up the plaid and hands it to her. "Please put that around ya, so I can concentrate. Please," he implores her and he gives her his best "I'm not playing, best take me seriously look." He releases her hand and she takes the plaid from him. That's when he notices the chain on her ankle. Shackles. Someone had placed her in irons. Why? He looks at her. She sees that he had seen the chains. The light goes back out of her eyes and she looks down at the ground. "Who has done this to her?" he asks himself.
He sees the chains, he knows. He will give me back to the rapist now. He sees the bite marks and bruises. I am marked. By his uncle. Family. She lowers her head. A tear escapes and rolls down her cheek.
Jamie looks up to Murtagh. "Someone has put her in irons," he says with rage in his voice. "Who the hell would do that to her?" while pointing at her feet. "She's covered with cuts, bites and bruises. Some of them are fresh. Made today," Jamie shouts. "Whoever this bastard is, he has tortured her." Murtagh's face became serious and he re-settles himself in the saddle. He turns and looks toward the cottage. The old man and woman are standing at the back door watching him. He does not think it was them, but they can certainly start their questions there. Murtagh turns back to Jamie and says, "I think we should start at the cottage"
"Aye," is Jamie's response. "I will no leave Claire, ya ken. She's come'n with us."
Murtagh nods in agreement. They will not leave Claire here.
Jamie picks up his sword, dirk and sporran and buckles the belts into place. He holds his hand out to Claire. She looks at the extended hand and then up the embankment path, shakes her head "No" and backs back into the water. Jamie is quicker this time and manages to grab both arms and pulls her to him. "I promised you once you would always be safe as long as I am near," he says looking her straight in the eye. "I am here now. You are safe. I will na leave you Sassenach. You are coming with Murtagh and me. We need to go back to the cottage to get your things and talk to the old man and woman. Then we will leave, ya ken?" Claire tries to wiggle out of his grasp and back away, but Jamie had a good grip on her this time and he cannot see her breasts so he is not distracted. "Please Sassenach. I ken you are scared," he says softly. "I can see you've been hurt. Tortured. Raped," he whispers. "It will be all right. We will be away from here soon. I promise. Come with me Sassenach. I will not let you out of my sight, ever again."
He says he will not leave her. She looks up into his face and sees he speaking the truth. She looks up to Murtagh. He nods. Confirmation. They will take her with them. She grabs hold of Jamie's belt and hangs on for dear life, walking behind him up the path. Jamie stops and speaks to Murtagh. It is agreed that Murtagh will question the old couple, learn what he can. Jamie will take Claire back inside, get her dressed and collect her things. Jamie turns back toward the cottage with Claire in tow, firmly attached to his belt. Murtagh riding, leading Donas.
Donas is famous in Leoch. Anyone stupid enough to walk close enough is going to be bitten by the horse, except for Jamie. Neither Jamie, nor Murtagh were paying attention to him as they made their way back to the cottage. Both deep in thought. Donas was acutely aware of Claire. Claire was busy trying to keep her grip on Jamie's belt and her forehead in contact with his back. When they reached the cottage, Jamie grabbed Donas' reins as Murtagh dismounted and started to question the couple. Donas stretched his neck so that his nose touched Claire's shoulder. He snorted. Claire rolled her head so that she could look into Donas' face. The horse raised its head so that its lips rested on Claire's forehead and snorted again and took some of Claire's hair in it's lips. Donas released her hair and gently nudged her shoulder again. Claire changed her grip. She grabbed Jamie's belt with her right hand, adjusted the plaid on her shoulders and then raised her left hand and gently rubbed Donas' nose with her knuckles. Her head never leaving contact with Jamie's back. Donas seemed to understand. They had reached an understanding; he would never bite Claire again. He would protect her as well.
Jamie turns his head and realizes that Donas is allowing Claire to pet him. He is not trying to bite her like the horse had always before when Claire had come to the stables. What is that all about, he wonders?
He hands the reins to Murtagh, and with Claire in tow, they enter the cottage through the back door and back into the small bedroom. The smell of men and spunk is nauseating to him now. Now that he kens for sure it has been his Claire. "Claire," Jamie started. "We need to get your things. Where are your clothes?" He asks. "You need to put them on."
There is no answer.
"Claire," Jamie says, trying to keep his voice calm. "You are going to have to talk to me or let go of me and show me. I will be right here. I will hold your hand if you need me to. I will not leave you. I promise." Claire just buries her forehead deeper into his back and shakes her head "No".
"Where do you sleep?' he asks?
Claire butts me in the back and we pass through the bedroom door back into the only other room in the cottage. I stop and take the time to survey the room now. This is where Claire has been for the last 3 months. I want to see it; to understand what she had been through. How she has lived and been taken care of, or rather been abused. I am angry with what I see. The bedroom is half the cottage space. I can stand in the center of that room and almost touch any of the four walls. Whoever these people are, they do not have much. A table, two stools and a fireplace, that's all. Not a rug, just a dirt floor. Four steps from the bedroom door and I'd be at the fireplace. There is no privacy.
I make a guess that the old couple sleeps in the back room with the bed. They have clearly allowed Claire to beaten and raped in their room, on their bed, on a regular basis. There was no way they could not hear what was going on in there. I noticed the bruises, old and new, on Claire's face down on the beach. One eye is puffy and a large bruise is starting to show on her jaw below her ear. Those are new; today I would guess. There are cuts, bite marks and bruises all over her body. I could see them on her thin frame while down on the beach. The couple has to have ken the torture. I stiffen with anger. My hand at my side clenches into a fist. I want to hit something verra badly, or rather someone. Claire feels my anger, places her free arm around me and step into my back so that most of our bodies are touching. I relax my fist and take her hand in mine. I raise it to my lips, place a light kiss on the palm and place it over my heart, placing my hand over hers. I will protect her. I hear her sigh and she relaxes, though only slightly. I need to get her away from here.
Claire butts me in the shoulder and I raise my arm so she can walk around and stand in front of me. This allows her to slide her hand along my belt without letting go. When she gets to my side, her hand grazed the sword wound and I let out a "hiss" as I take in a breath. She stops and looks up at me with her brows knitted. I just shake my head. "Not now, later," I say to her. Claire nods and drags me over to the fireplace. To the side there is a small pile of hay and a ratty horse blanket on top of it. Still holding onto my belt for dear life, she bends down.
When I stand I have my healer's box from Castle Leoch. I had taken it with me when I left the Castle that night. Somehow it was here with me; Rupert most likely had thought to bring it. I turn and face Jamie. He nods toward the ratty blanket and asks, "Is that where you slept?" My breath hitches. "Slept" I repeated to myself. Past tense. Not sleep. Slept. Jamie is telling me that he will take me with him; I'm leaving here. It is not a trick. I will never sleep here again. I nod "yes," sigh and gave Jamie a look of "Thank you." He mutters "Not fit for a dog," and raises his hand to wipe away the tear that is rolling down my cheek. He rests his hand on my swollen jaw, so swollen now I can barely open my mouth, and his thumb gently brushes the eye the rapist had hit earlier. I am sure it is swollen as well. I hope it does not swell shut like the last time. A look of such sorrow is in his eyes. I can do nothing but look down at the ground. I am embarrassed and so very grateful he has found me.
I turn and drag him back to the bedroom and place my box down on the bed. I start to undo the belt at Jamie's waist; my lifeline to him. He throws up his hands, looks at me with surprise and emphatically says, "NO Claire." He takes a step back. He moves away from me. I had managed to unbuckle the belt and take it off before he moves. I am no longer attached to him. Fear must show in my eyes for he looks at me with question. A surge of panic rises to my throat. I make an awful groaning noise. I have the belt in my hand. I close my eyes and tell myself he promised. He will not leave you. His hands are on my arms and he shakes me gently. I take a deep breath and open my eyes. "I am right here Sassenach," he says. "We will leave here together. My word of honor." I realize I have his dirk and sporran as well as his belt. I show him what I have and look at him with hurt in my eyes. I pat the bed for him to come sit down. "No Claire. You ken I said No. I don't want you like that. Well, ya ken I do, but No. Not here Sassenach. Not now. I need to get some answers from these people and then we need to leave here."
I fold my arms across my chest and stamp my bare foot hard on the dirt floor. Jamie folds his arms across his chest and takes a deep breath. I point to the wound site, pat my healers box and look him straight in the eye. "Tsst," he hisses. Ok, he knows I only want to see the wound. I point to the floor right in front of me. He walks to me, stands where I had pointed, and I smile at him. I unbutton his waistcoat, untuck and lift his shirt so I can take a look at the damages. I gently run my finger over the wound. It is red and very infected. Then I poke it, puss oozes out. I dab it with a clean bandage I had in my box. I poke it several more times, softly, gently and more puss oozes. "Festered and weeping, great," I say to myself and snort out loud for Jamie.
Oh, she only wants to look at the wound. It would make it much easier if she would just talk to me. "Tsst," I hiss as she pokes the wound, HARD, several times, with her finger. It makes me jerk and stiffen with each poke. She looks up at me, mid poke and raises an eyebrow. "Sword. Long story for another day," I say. She nods and then I heard her speak for the first time. Music to my ears…
"Maggie," I call out to the old woman, placing my hand on my jaw. It hurts when the jaw moves; speaking is painful. "Sea water, bandages and the salve. Whisky. Now." I look back at Jamie. I place my open palm gently on his cheek then bring it to my lips, place a soft kiss on its palm and place the hand over the wound. He closes his eyes, sighs and nods. I pat the bed for him to sit. He sort of half sits, half leans. I completely remove his waistcoat, fold it neatly and place it on the bed. I pull his shirt off, fold it and place it on top of the waistcoat. I push his kilt down off his waist to his hip. I take a deep breath. I had forgotten just how gorgeous this man was. I have to lower my eyes for a moment and I sigh softly. I am sure I am blushing.
While I wait for Maggie, I dress. I remove and fold my plaid, or rather the plaid I had stolen from Jamie all those months ago at Leoch and pick up my shift from the floor where the rapist had thrown it. I put it on. It is dirty and torn but the only one I have. I pick up my skirt and pull it on. It is filthy and too big now because I have lost so much weight. It rides down to my hips. I find the piece of rope, pull the skirt up to my waist and try to tie the rope but the skirt drops. I always have trouble with this part. Then Jamie is there; he takes the rope from my hands, I hold the skirt in place and he ties the rope around my waist. I look into his eye but his look is masked. I cannot read his thoughts. I put on the stays, tie them and then the bodice. One of the sleeves is almost completely torn away now. Past struggles with the rapist. I cannot look Jamie in the eye. I am embarrassed about my appearance. Nothing I can do about it. A tear rolls down my cheek. Until this moment, for three months, I did not care. It hurts to care now.
Maggie brings me the sea water and clean rags. I clean the wound, carefully, trying not to hurt him anymore than I have to. I have to debride it. The wound is a mess. I click my tongue a couple of times.
As Claire works she mutters a couple of words I do not recognize – sutures, puss, fucking bastard, debride and some I had heard but still do not understand – germs, infected and iodine; my healer is singing to me while she works. I watch that beautiful nest of brown curls as she works on my injured side. Watching it bob and tilt; I just want to run my fingers through it. When she pours whisky on the wound, it makes me jump. Seven stitches. Claire mutters something about a lucky number. It is painful but Claire is trying to be as gentle as she can; I ken she does not want to hurt me. She looks up and smiles at me then adds a salve of some sort, smelling of garlic and then she adds layers of bandages. I am trussed up like a stuffed chicken. She is making sure my wound will not get dirty again. Not on her watch, I think to myself and smile.
When she is finished, she hands me back my shirt and then waistcoat. She cleans her hands and her wee stabber, packs her box and then stands ready to go. Clearly she has no intention of being left behind. I have no intension of leaving her. I put my shirt on and tuck it into my kilt, careful not to touch the bandages. I button my waistcoat and I lean down and kiss her on the forehead and whisper, "Thank you Sassenach." I belt the dirk and sporran back on and then put my sword belt on over my shoulder. That pulls the stitches and I whence. Claire looks concerned but I smile. I am all right. I have my healer back. I have my Sassenach.
She is standing by the door, the plaid in her hands. Ready to go. I look at her. The dress is pretty bad. Dirty and torn, one sleeve hanging. Nothing to be done about it now. I walk to the back door. As I pass Claire, her had shots out and grabs hold, once again, to my belt. I shake my head. I open the door, take her box from the bed and step outside. Murtagh is still questioning the old man. I walk to Donas and tie Claire's box to my saddle. Over my shoulder I said, "Claire, I need to set you up on Donas, let go of my belt and come to me please."
She offers her hand for Donas to smell and then gently rubs his nose with her knuckles. She does release her hold on my belt, but keeps her fingers in constant contact with me, stopping on my chest when she stands facing me. I bend down, pick up the loose chain and hand it to her. I put my hands on her waist. The fingers of my two hands almost touched. She is so thin. With very little effort, I placed her on the horse. I set her on Donas side saddle. We needed the blacksmith first. Get these horrible chains off her. Someone will pay for doing this to her. What right does anyone have to do this to her? My hand balls into a fist as I contemplate the thought.
I turn to Murtagh. "Do they have the key?" I ask
Murtagh shakes his head, "No, but there is a Smithy just back the road a ways. You and Donas flew passed it get'n here."
I nod and mount Donas behind Claire. She leans into me and I put my arms around her and pick up the reins.
Jamie turns to face the couple. "How long has she been in your care?" he asked not trying to hide the disgust in his voice.
Murtagh answers for them. "Three months, Jamie. She's been here the whole time."
Jamie goes ridged. "Who brought her here to you?" Jamie demands.
The old man stepped forward. The woman would only look at the ground. "You can see we don't have much. We did the best we could. Sorcha made a little money once word got around about her healing and so we could eat a little better."
"That does not answer my question, sir." Jamie responds as calmly as he can. "I repeat. Who brought her here, left her in your keep?"
"The MacKenzie ordered it," the old man states, looking down at the ground. "He's the one whats got the key. He always takes it too. He's the only one whats aloud to take her. She tried to leave once that's why she's fettered. He was the one what was with the lass when you got here."
Jamie's head shot up. He had only seen the one gentleman in front with the one horse. No one was in the room when he entered. He only saw Claire on the path and down by the sea.
He looks up at Murtagh. "A white horse was flying back down the road as I came around back." Murtagh says and nods his head. "Only one white horse around here that I ken of. We can check with the blacksmith. Claire can tell you for sure, if she'll talk."
Jamie says one word and he feels Claire start to shake with fear leaning against his chest. His arms tighten around her. He has his man and he has a good idea who helped.
They are done here. He turns Donas toward the road asking him for a canter. They need find the blacksmith first.
