Chapter 11

Cheater Cheater

.

Waking up was a shock because I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep. The fire had burned down to embers but was alive enough that it could easily be brought back to life if we fed it. It was dark now, darker than it would be if it were only sundown. I prepared to close my eyes once more and enjoy the warmth, until I realized that with the fire gone, there should be no warmth. And the ground shouldn't be comfortable.

I sat up suddenly, and through the dim light the embers and the partially covered moon created, I saw Mackenzie. He was sleeping against a tree and I had curled myself onto his lap. Although he was comfortable- -extremely comfortable- -I struggled to find the desire to get up, I eventually did and sat face to face. His eyes were closed and his face was peaceful.

I could not seem to stop myself from tracing my fingers onto his cheek so softly I was sure it could not wake him. It had been two days since I last touched him, when he kissed me in the forest. And the kiss had been... impossible to forget. His hands hardly touched me yet somehow they navigated perfectly over my skin, in just the right ways to make my body ignite with desire. His lips on mine had been like an instant shock that traveled almost painfully from my mouth down to my groin. And the weight of his body on mine... It had been impossible to ignore the dreams of him ravishing my body before... how was I ever supposed to sleep again with that so clearly in my memory?

I wanted to kiss him now. Softly enough that he wouldn't wake, and hopefully I would forget right after, but I couldn't. That would be wrong. So instead, I traced the skin on his face so lightly that he would not wake.

Either I was wrong, or my groggy wake up had woken him too. He opened his eyes and watched me calmly. No expression crossed his relaxed face but I saw his chest rise then pause as if he were holding his breath. I tried to pull my own hand away, but that was apparently an impossibility.

Slowly, he rose his fingers to my face and began tracing them over my skin. The sensation sent tingles throughout my body and unhappily woke parts of me that I had shut down after learning of Franks...

I pushed Frank from my mind that moment, but needed to ask, "Where is Brianna?" My voice was almost a whisper which surprised me slightly.

"I put her to bed in the tent." He answered just as quietly. I tried to pull myself away from him but it wasn't happening.

I nodded slightly and tried to understand why I was allowing this. Because I wanted to maybe. Because this didn't feel wrong. It was the first thing that made me feel almost completely guilt free since I woke up without my memory. Maybe I wanted this to be my revenge. No, I don't think that was it, though it did allow me to justify my allowing him to pull my face towards his.

And then he kissed me, softer than the first time, but with more determination. I melted almost immediately against him, returning his kiss just as willingly as he offered it. I wish I could say I was at the very least unhappy about it, but I wasn't. And I yet, I still failed to feel guilty. As if this was somehow right. And I wanted to hate myself for that but I was all too consumed by the sensation of his mouth over mine.

I draped my arms over his shoulders as he pulled me closer, one hand holding my face and the other hand on my lower back. Then, as if I weighed four pounds, he picked me up and dropped me over his lap. My legs straddled over his and one of my hands took his face to pull him closer, making him mine.

I used my weight to press him to the tree and I lightly pressed my pelvis into his stomach.

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.

But I couldn't stop myself. I kept telling myself just one more second. I bit his lip lightly and moaned, closing my eyes and enjoying the feeling of his hands as they dropped to my ankles and slowly, very slowly, traced up my legs, bringing my skirt and shift with them. The trail of his fingers burned my skin and ignited more excitement between my legs. I was sitting on my knees over his legs but this didn't seem to be an issue for him. He pulled the skirt and shift out from under my legs so that he could freely access anything underneath.

My body trembled in anticipation as his large, warm hands grasped my knees and squeezed them hard. I let out a small, but desperate moan against his lips which his body responded to hungrily.

Stop him, stop him, stop him.

But I refused to listen. Just one more moment, I thought, wanting to know what he would do next.

I kiss him once more before pulling my lips from his. I felt his body as it prepared to protest, but he relaxed when he felt me kiss the side of his mouth, his chin, and all the way across his jawline. Then, I placed my face under his chin and lightly nibbled at his skin, hearing him groan quietly. The harder I bit down, the rougher he was on my legs, sometimes squeezing so tight that I was sure I would have bruises. His hands continuing to squeeze them as if he were unsure they were real. One of his hands remained on my leg while the other lightly traced its way to my core. My body froze in anticipation feeling his thumb press against the front and his fingers slid over my folds. I let out a small whimper with my teeth still holding the flesh of his skin. He didn't seem to mind.

He groaned something in Gaelic as his fingers became more active in their journey. I continued to whimper softly against him until finally I had the strength to pull away from his neck, offer him one last kiss, close my eyes and say, "Please stop."

I was extremely disappointed that he seemed to listen. His fingers maintained their position over the entrance of my clit but they refrained from moving deeper. I moved my hips slightly over him, and embraced the pleasure of that movement willingly.

I tried to force out the words demanding he move his hands, but continued to tell myself just one more moment. And it took all my strength not to move my hips faster over his fingers.

"I shouldn't." I decided, my voice seemed to be trembling.

"You should." He cooed, and a large part of me wanted to believe him.

"Why was I sleeping on you?" I wondered.

This question make him turn his head slightly, but I could not see his expression in the dark.

"I came to move you into the tent with Brianna." He answered, moving his hands back to my legs under the shift. "But ye grabbed my leg and held me there. Then I sat back assuming you'd move eventually, and I guess I fell asleep. I woke again to you molesting me." There was humor in his tone, but he tilted his head once more and kissed me. I really wished I could have said it was unpleasant, but it felt natural. Good. Exceptional.

"I am not the one who started moving my hands up your skirt." I taunted.

"Aye, you can if you wish, though." He offered lifting his pelvis a bit despite my weight on him. We both laughed lightly for a moment, then he sighed, "I've missed ye, Claire."

"What?" I asked but he shook his head. "Tell me."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I wouldna be right." He answered. His tone didn't suggest we wanted me to ask more, but also didn't dispute the idea. "And ye wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me." I suggested. I couldn't very well believe I was sitting on his lap, but here we were.

"You know, you speak in your sleep." He mused, effectively trying to change the subject.

"I do not."

"Aye, you do. You are not always clear, but the names your cry are."

"And what names do I supposedly say?"

"You call for Brianna."

"Understandable." I grinned. "Who else?"

He hesitated so I gabbed my hand into his shoulder. "Ach! Devil woman."

"Come on, now. You can't tell me I cry out names in my sleep and not clarify."

He hesitated, I think glared, but answered, "Jamie. Sometimes James."

"James?" I asked. "I don't think I know anyone named James."

Maybe at the hospital.

"Hm." He mused. He placed his hands onto my arms with a solid grip, then closed his eyes in the darkness and took a loud breath. "Have ye ever been unfaithful to your husband, Claire?"

"What?" I asked in surprise.

"Have ye?"

"Of course not!" I snapped, then realized that may not be so obvious considering our current position.

"Then I dinna want to make you into an unfaithful woman. I myself may be willing to take a woman still married to another man, but I canna ask the same of you." He said pulling me slowly from his lap and putting me down beside him. "I apologize for losing my control."

"Do not apologize." I told him, regretting that we were suddenly apart. "Thank you for... stopping, I suppose."

"I don't want to take yer honour." He replied, taking my hand and holding it. "And as much as I may hate him, your husband seems like he good to you. A good man."

"He is." I nodded, feeling my stomach roll into knots which made me feel ill. Maybe it was that I could so easily speak with a man who openly hated my husband. "And an very good father, but..."

"But what?"

I almost didn't tell him. But we'd become, what I would consider, friends in the time we'd spent together. And I felt I could trust him. I knew private things about him that might embarrass him, so why not offer him the same truth? "I don't... know... if I want to be with him anymore."

"What?" I am not sure whether his response was more angry or shocked.

"I... love him. More than anything. He was my entire world, or I thought he was. But since we've been here he has shown me what a great team we make. I understand, without my memories, why we stayed together. For Brianna. And... I want to make my marriage work but... I don't think I can. Being here, he has been a nearly perfect husband. But we are here because of impossible circumstances which will be gone when we return home. Then we will be back to reality." I knew that none of this could make any sense to him- how could it?- but I continued anyway. "This adventure has shown me that our marriage only works in a fantasy. I will not take Brianna from him, of course, but how can I continue without my memories after all that he has done?"

"What has he done?" His voice was almost tense as he asked.

"He is a good man." I repeated. "I know that. But... I don't know if I can trust him."

"Why?" There was a desperate longing in the word as he asked it.

I hesitated, not wanting to admit it aloud, and also not wanting him to think any less of me or my marriage. He already hated "Johnathon Randall" so there would be no love lost there.

I took a breath and looked at the blackness of the ground. Maybe it would be therapeutic to tell someone. Especially someone you'd never see again after a few days. "A little while ago, before we came to Scotland, a woman came to my door. She wanted to speak to me about Fra- -about Johnathon. Because she thought I would do the right thing and... leave him so he could be happy." I felt him shift beside me but didn't want to see his reaction, not that I could in the darkness. "Apparently, I'd made him miserable as a husband. She said I was neglectful, and distant, and that I gave him no love and never cared for him, these of course being the words she said he'd used to describe me."

He wrapped his arms around me then and pulled me back onto his lap. His chin balanced over my head and he hugged me so tight I thought I might bruise. Not that I minded. The slight pain was a welcomed distraction.

"I don't know what I had done wrong. I can't remember anything. But I must have been a truly horrible wife to make someone as loving as him so unhappy."

"You are an excellent wife." He told me, but how could he know? He was just trying to be nice. His voice and his body were tense, and I think he was struggling to find words to say because his jaw seemed to be locked as he spoke.

"He tried to tell me we had some sort of arrangement. As if I would ever agree to such a thing." Although I didn't want to burden him with my problems, I felt relieved that I could finally express some of the pain and disappointment I'd been harboring since our arrival to this time. The priority was returning home. Not that I was completely sure I wanted to.

This felt like a new start. It was a selfish, naive thought, but I felt we could possibly be okay here.

"I just... I wish I knew what I had done so wrong."

"You do not deserve a man who doesna appreciate you, Claire." He said, kissing the top of my head. "But on your own you are not to blame for anything he could be angry about. I don't know any kind of arrangement that would take a good man from his wife, or that any good husband would make allowing his wife to..."

"I'm just so conflicted. He says he loves me, and that he never stopped but how can I believe him?"

"I am so sorry he hurt you." He mumbled into my hair. "And for your honour, I will be having words with him."

"You most certainly will not!" I snapped. The outburst clearly didn't change his mind, so I changed my approach. "Please, I promise I can take care of it myself."

"That doesna mean you should have to." He snapped. "That bastard...!"

"I'm alright, I swear. I am only glad I was finally able to tell someone."

He rolled over then and pinned me on my back. I blinked a few times in surprise as he wrapped my legs around his waist and lowered his mouth to my jaw.

"Good Lord, what the hell are you doing?" I asked only out of shock, and a little pride. Honestly, I should have been more ashamed to say I didn't mind. Maybe it had been too long since Frank and I had slept together, or maybe my brain injury had left me lazy to morality and judgment. I couldn't be sure the reason but my body wanted his and my mind wasn't fighting hard enough to stop it.

"I am taking ye, woman... mo duinne." He determined in the sort of way that should have made me violently angry but for some unfathomable reason, didn't. "Randall, or no, I'm no being a good man so the scum can take ye himself."

I started to argue but he pressed his lips against mine, effectively shutting me up. I wiggled my arms and thrashed my chest as if to stop him, but it was only for show so that I could pretend I wasn't willing to betray my husband.

How could I live with myself if I lowered myself to Franks level? How could I believe we hadn't had some sort of unspoken arrangement when my willingness was evidence of the opposite? Yet somehow, I don't think I cared.

His hands roughly rubbed between my hips and knees. Then he placed one hand directly between my legs and began pulling up his kilt with the other. I let my head fall back and my eyes close as one of his long fingers entered me. It played inside me for a moment before he slowly added another. I instinctively tried to close my legs over his hand so he could not leave, but his hips blocked me.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders to pull myself closer to him, keeping my eyes closed so that I could pretend this was just another of the dreams that had tormented me for so long. My fingers dug deep into the skin on the back of his neck, and on the cloth covered part of his back. A wailing moan left my mouth, loud enough that I worried it might wake Brianna. I pushed her from my mind instantly. I wanted to enjoy this moment of weakness, so I bit my lip and determined to remain as quiet as possible.

He removed his fingers so suddenly that I almost voiced a complaint, only stopping myself because I knew what was next. I felt his erection hot against my leg after he lifted our clothing out of the way, and my stomach began turning more in anticipation. My body burned for it- -for him. I needed the attention, the intimacy, the release. My legs nearly began trembling as I waited for his return.

My loins begging me to attend to them. Demanding instant gratification. He pressed his hips and his erection against me then, taunting my body. I could feel how wet I was when I felt how easily his cock slid over my opening, but never entering. His tip slid carefully against me as if it had a mind of its own, and it found joy in my torment.

"Ermmm." I groaned, trying to remain silent.

He pressed his cock harder against me, as if he were about to enter me, but then he stopped once more.

"Ask me for it, Claire." He ordered. I felt the trembling anticipation throughout his body. His teeth began nipping at my jaw as one hand grabbed his cock and began rubbing.

"Please." I breathed.

"Please what?"

"Get inside me." And he obliged my request instantly. Full and deep as if he'd done it a thousand times and knew the area perfectly. His hips began thrusting hard and fast, hardly giving me a moment to recover from his initial attack. "Ah!"

I stuck my teeth into his tensed shoulder to keep myself quiet as he continued to hump me fast and hard. Both his hands held me hard and furiously. One held my hair and briefly tried to pry my teeth from his shoulder, while the other dug deeply into my side.

I was wet enough that his rough entry didn't hurt too much, but as my walls swelled and contracted over him, and his thrusts became angrier and angrier, I began getting sore.

"Alex." I moaned in warning, but his hands became rougher and his thrusts became more aggressive. "Alex, please." I moaned, letting my head fall back as he ravaged my body. "Please!"

His fingers dug into my back as he attempted to pull us even closer. He offered me about ten more forceful thrusts before slowing to a near stop with his entire length inside me. I felt I was going to choke on my own anticipation as I felt him thrust once more, his body stiffen, and the sharp release of his pleasure deep inside me.

He groaned but continued to move his hips in a perfect rhythm as if he'd already somehow perfected the desires of my body and he pumped himself deeper inside me. He groaned something in Gaelic in my ear, but I didn't understand it. He continued to speak to me in Gaelic until finally my body surrendered to him and I also found my satisfaction.

He didn't leave me as he leaned back against the tree and draped me resting on his chest, my legs impaled over his cock. And I didn't ask him to. My body enjoyed having him inside me, though I tried not to let that realization make me feel sick.

I had just cheated on my husband. I'd been foolish enough to believe I could ignore that. I don't think I could.

But when I focused only on the man who was inside me- -on our maintained connection, I was able to numb out some of the gut wrenching guilt.

How had Frank done this? How had he created and maintained relationships with other women? I could hardly stomach the knowledge I had done it this once. The anger caused by that made it easier to enjoy the moment.

"I am sorry for being so rough with ye, Sassanach." He spoke softly, cupping my face to kiss me tenderly. I was not in a position to protest. "It has been a very long time, ye see."

"I understand." I breathed, lowering my head to rest under his chin. It was difficult to relax with the unforgettable and un-ignore-able knowledge that he was still inside me. "It has been a while for me also."

He laughed once but it sounded a bit like a cough of relief. "That is very good to hear."

"Is it?" I wondered grimmly. "I am worried it has clouded my judgement."

"Don't you worry, Mo duinne. Nothing can cloud such terrible judgement."

"That wasn't every nice." I noted, sitting up so I could face him.

"Aye, but who said I was nice?" He seemed almost too familiar, running his hand up my back, up my neck softly, and tangling it into my hair so that he could bring my face to his.

After a few kisses I choked out a cry, shook my head, pulled it away from him and dropped my face into the crook of his neck. And I think I was crying but I was too lost in my own mental torment. His arms wrapped around me tightly, and he began whispering softly in my hair, not in English.

"I didna mean it, lassie." He told me softly. "Ye do not have terrible judgement."

"But I do!" I wailed. "I just cheated on my husband."

His hands tightened on me. "If he wanted you, he wouldna have strayed. It is no as if he didn't ken what would happen if he wasna a good man."

"But he is a good man." I cried, hugging him tighter because, despite my reason for sorrow, I did consider him a friend and his presence was a comfort to me.

I sensed his desire to argue and I could almost feel how unhappy the comment made him, and I understood why. I had seen his back, caused by the man he thought I had married. He'd been tormented for years by Johnathon Randall, and I felt a blooming desire to be honest with him so that he could comfort me correctly without hurting himself.

He pulled me off him then, and curled me into a ball on his lap. I near instantly missed the connection but it was probably for the best.

"Dinna fesh yourself, Sassanch." He breathed but his voice was pained and dry. "I have no doubt yer husband will forgive you."

"How?"

He didn't answer. Instead he bent his knees the most my body would allow, and pressed his face into my shoulder while his arms tightened around me as if I might disappear any moment and he wanted to keep me here.

This only torn more angrily at my heart and I wished more than anything that I could have my memories back. Then I could understand my bahaviours better.

We sat like this for a while. Long enough that I fell asleep. When I woke again it was still dark but the moon was no where to be seen. I was very warm, hiding in his strong arms. And I felt almost happy at first, until the guilt returned. More than I thought I should have because my guilt was not bothered by my having an affair, it was at bothering Mackenzie with my love of Frank.

Why would he care who I loved? He'd bedded me, wasn't that what he wanted? But still, I could not rid myself of the guilt demanding I fix the situation.

Shaking him awake was the most reasonable response, but of course I did not care to do that. Both my desire to apologize, for some unknown reason, and my desire for the feel of his body once more, led me to wake him by gently nibbling on the base of his jaw. I partially expected him to wake up annoyed, but instead he smiled and pulled me closer.

"I almost thought I was dreaming." He breathed.

"What were you dreaming?" I wondered quietly.

"When we were in Paris." He answered, confusing me a bit. "After my dual with Randall. I thought ye would leave me for sure, but you didn't."

"I thought you were hiding from me. Afraid to confront me." I replied but I had no idea where the response came from. His eyes opened a bit and he looked at me curiously.

"Sassanach?" He asked in an almost hopeful tone.

"Tell me about your wife." I insisted, hoping to change the subject. "You felt rather excited last night. Am I the first woman you have been with since her, then?"

As a married woman, an unfaithful one, even if my husband had been unfaithful first, I should not have been so anxious to hear the answer.

"That is no an easy question to answer." He chuckled awkwardly.

"Oh?" I looked up at his face but there was not enough light to see him. "Have there been many, then?"

"No, I have only ever been intimate with two women." He answered. "My wife and a maid, many years after she was gone. And only once, I swear it."

"And me." I added.

"Aye, you."

"So three women."

"Do you remember a few days ago, maybe a week or two?" He started. "When Fran- -Randall told you of a man named James Fraser?"

"The wife stealing bandit?" I asked. "Yes, I do."

"And did you believe my word when I promised he was a man who had loved his wife and would never take another man's?"

"I did." He'd said it with enough passion, it was hard to doubt.

"Aye, well I think it is best I tell ye something." He sounded almost bashful. "I am James Fraser."

I choked out a laugh at this, but didn't put much thought into it.

He continued, "My family calls me Jamie, as may you if you wish."

"Why would you go by Alex Mackenzie?"

"I am a criminal to the English, ye ken. They know my name well." He explained. "Lord Grey thought it would be best I take my middle name and mother's clan to disguise myself. My full name is James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser."

"That is a mouthful." I commented.

"Are you no mad at me for keeping that from you?" He wondered.

"Of course not."

"Then I would greatly appreciate if you used my given name." He smiled. "T'is been a long while since anyone has used it."

I smiled softly at him. "Alright, Jamie."

His smile grew and his kissed me with a mouthwatering passion that activated my entire body. One last time, I thought.

But it happened twice more before I finally found the strength to return to my own tent with my daughter.


The morning was bright and I'd been able to sleep in. I had wanted to sleep in which, although a welcome surprise, was still a surprise. My legs were sore, too sore to fully close, and I thought the center of my body my be bruised. When I checked, I had his bites and love marks claiming the skin on my stomach, chest, and inner thighs. There were also purpling imprints of his fingers covering my body. I almost wanted to be angry, but found the anger to be an impossibility.

In fact, a strange part of me wanted to rush outside and greet him with a kiss. I could hear him and Brianna giggling as they built a fire together. He constantly reminded her to stay quiet enough to let me sleep. I appreciated this, but mostly found myself smiling at the thought of them bonding.

Then reality struck and forced me to access the situation without my rose coloured glasses on. I fixed my clothing quickly and exited my tent to find Alex- -Jamie- and Bree making a breakfast of bird while the horses grazed lazily.

Jamie looked up at me, first in surprise, then appreciation. His eyes told me exactly what they were thinking as his mind undoubtedly replayed moments from the night before. His smile was enchanting though. The most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. It filled my body with warmth, and a little pang of unacknowledged guilt.

"Morning, Claire." He greeted in a beautifully cheerful Scottish voice.

"Good morning, Jamie." I think my voice sounded stiff, but I don't think it affected him. Calling him Jamie felt like a wait off my chest. I wondered if Frank knew, and instantly realized that he would have. If he was taking a legal document with Jamies name on it to Glasgow, he would undoubtably have realised his identity. So, why didn't he tell me? And how did I know?

Jamie said I'd been- -oh God- -calling his name in my sleep. I felt my face go red as I sorely sat on a log across from my daughter and... l-o-v-e-r? The idea filled me with disgust, but a small pang of happiness. My dreams were mostly of him and me. I must have known somehow who he was. Maybe I'd read his name on the paper without realizing. Dr. Fulton was going to create another thesis when I returned. If we did... I felt more than comfortable in this time. Maybe because it was simpler. There was nothing I was supposed to remember here.

"Jamie?" Brianna asked.

"Aye, that is my first name." He informed her.

"What about Alex?"

"That is my middle name."

"Oh." She blinked and continued on playing with the fire. "What do I call you?"

"What do you want to call me?"

"Padre." She answered with a small grin, and I felt myself choke out a cough of surprise, which I hid behind a laugh.

"Ah." He said, watching me carefully, before returning his attention to her with a very large smile. "if ye wish it, lass."

"Do you know what padre means, darling?" I asked, slightly worried.

"Uhu." She answered, poking the fire.

"How did you sleep, Claire?" Jamie wondered, pulling my attention away from Brianna.

"I slept well, how about you."

"Oh, snugger than a drunk man." He answered with a playful gleam to his eye. I wanted to pretend I was too proper, too well groomed to acknowledge his excitement, but the moment I thought of the night before, I wanted more of him. "Would you like breakfast?"

"I am famished." I nodded accepting the plate of bird I was offered. Personally, I hated the idea of eating something that looked like it had when it was murdered, but Brianna needed to eat and she needed me to be an example.

"After breakfast, can I braid your hair, padre?" Brianna wondered.

"I suppose, if it is alright with your mother." Why was he involving me? Oh, I suppose she was my responsibility. I found it oddly difficult to remember that.

The day passed without boredom as we all spent time together, and I found I was a little too excited to put Brianna back to bed. I was almost tense after telling her a story and checking to make sure she was asleep. When I left the tent, though I was still sore, I was jittery. Like a high school student sneaking out on a school night. He watched me from the fire where he sat on a log. The forest was darkening but when we looked up through the trees the sky was still relatively light.

I took a seat beside him, leaving a decent amount of space between our bodies. Nothing more needed to happen unless he really wanted it to. Evidently, he did.

He very silently took one of my knees and pulled it onto the other side of the log so that I faced him. My legs open over the logs as I straddled it. Then he gently took my by the backs of my knees and pulled me closer.

My heart was racing so fast I thought it my suddenly stop. My body was tensing up and getting nervous with anticipation. His hands went to the strings of my corset first, untying them so he could pull my dress off over my head. He dropped it to the side, away from the burning fire. Then he gently started on the strings of my shift over my chest. My heart raced as he very slowly pulled it off, dropping it with my dress.

His eyes drank in my naked, exposed body with hungry excitement. It was difficult, sitting across from him so trusting of what he would do and how he'd react to finally seeing my bare body. I glanced carefully to the tent as if Brianna might have woken. The tent never moved.

I glanced back at him as he removed his belt, his kilt, and his shirt. His body was beautiful. Perfectly sculpted with accents of red hair. One of his hands reached forward and lightly traced the skin around my breasts, and down my stomach, getting dangerously close, but not close enough to the part of my body that wanted him the most right now.

"M-my daughter seems to insist upon calling you father." Even if in Spanish. Did she know the word, though, or did she simply think the word was fun? It seemed as though she understood it since she had referred to him as daddy 2 only three hours before. She also insisted that he return home with us, though he seemed to understand that might not be a possibility.

"She does." He replied.

"I suppose that means she likes you."

"I am rather fond of the lass, also."

"Is she anything like your daughter?" What sort of questions was I asking? Why? I knew, as well as Brianna should, that we couldn't bring him back with us. Why would I even consider any sort of future with him? And I was still married!

"Yes." He answered, pulling my legs closer, though the wood scratched my buttocks, so that my legs draped open over his.

"I think..." But then he kissed me and my thoughts went away. My entire focus was on him, his body, his hands, his lips.

And he took me once more, but much more gently than the night before. His body engulfed mine, and my fingers clawed into his back as if he needed more scars to remember my family by. He didn't seem to mind, though.

He lasted much longer, also. With the initial excitement gone, he was able to enjoy my body and let me enjoy his. He was just as hard and forceful, but with less of the aggression. I did enjoy the aggression, but being sore already, the softer approach was appreciated. He took me every direction he could get me, front, back, and side, sometimes sitting, sometimes standing, or laying down. And we continued until we were both panting balls of dirty sweat on the ground.

We lay between the log and the fire when he were finally done, though the added heat was unneeded. My body was wrapped entirely around him and I had no intention of letting go until long after the repeated waves of pleasure and satisfaction rolled off of me.

It was not as difficult this time, to ignore the guilt I felt for my feeling a lack of guilt. I convinced myself it was because I had already determined I was going to leave Frank. I couldn't trust him, and I had now proven to myself I could want another man just as much. It was likely, I realized, that this is what Frank had meant when I confronted him about his affair. Maybe we had grown apart. Maybe we were only together for Brianna, and making it work until she was off to collage. That would explain why it was so easy for me to move on, if subconsciously I knew it was already long over.

And then I felt the shame. Frank, my dear, lovely husband, he did love me still, didn't he? He'd simply used my amnesia as his own fresh start, to start over before Brianna was born, before we likely got busy moving and raising a family, and starting new careers. He used it to allow us to go back to the start fresh. One where I remembered that I loved him so he could use that to rebuild our lives. I felt a tear come to my eye as my realization filled me with hope.

This, I decided, what I had done with Jamie, was the last piece of rebellion I would allow myself. He'd betrayed my trust and now I had betrayed his. But we could start over, assuming he would forgive me as he damn well better, and return home and back to a life where we could be blissfully in love as I remembered us.

I sat up, reaching over the log and Jamies sleeping body to grab our clothing. I wrapped his shirt and kilt over him, before putting on my shift, offering him one last kiss on the cheek, and returning to the tent with my dress.


I woke up feeling just as guilty as the night before. Maybe worse. Because I missed him. Jamie. But what I missed from him was the therapy his body offered. I did not love him and he didn't love me, we enjoyed the release of each others body's.

I exited the tent to find Brianna and Jamie by the fire cooking rabbit. Jamie was dressed now, of course, as if last night had never happened, sitting on the same log we'd used last night, and Brianna stood behind him playing with his hair, putting it in buns, and placing sticks in it as "bows". Jamie focused on cooking the rabbit as if he did not notice.

He smiled when he saw me but I did not smile back. I felt nervous and uneasy. I must have known, somewhere deep inside me, that we would probably have to talk about what we were doing at some point, but I'd been ignoring that and simply living in the moment.

I stood idly contemplating my options until he approached me with a plate of rabbit.

"Ye dinna look so good, Sassanach." He reached for my arm but I cringed away. Then I looked at my feet because the heart breaking expression on his face was unbearable. "Are you alright?"

"I realized last night," I mumbled, "Why Frank did what he did. Why he lied and... why he cheated on me." I realized after that I had called him Frank, and that some of these words might mean nothing to him, but when I glanced up he was certainly not confused. Whatever language I was using, whether he was familiar with the words or not, he clearly understood it. "We'd drifted apart and he found love elsewhere. But my memory loss was a fresh start. And I think I should also take advantage of it. I can't keep doing this with you. I'm sorry."

When I looked up again, I had to take a step back. His face remained neutral but his eyes held some kind of threat. I wanted to believe I trusted him, but the anger he was withholding was painfully obvious.

"It was only two nights." I might have said this more for myself. He didn't stop me, though, as I thought he might, as I walked around him to go sit by Brianna. A few moments later, he joined us silently. But the tension was strong and I wished suddenly that I had waited until Frank had returned. Jamie wouldn't hurt us, I told myself again and again, but I had also never seen him so angry.

It wasn't until about midday, after he left alone to get fire wood, refusing for the first time not to let Brianna go with him, that he returned looking back in control of his emotions. I don't know what he did, but it seemed to work. He wouldn't look at me though. And refused to make eye contact. I found his behavior childish, and frankly, angering.

How dare he treat me like this simply because I didn't want to continue a two day affair?

I almost didn't let him take Brianna fishing the next morning when she begged him to take her.

It was only because he'd looked me in the eyes and offered me a small, almost apologetic smile, when he told me they'd "Be back soon." that I allowed it.

I was angrily piling wood for the fire, and mentally arguing with Jamie when I heard the footsteps racing towards camp. Horseshoes, if I wanted to be specific.

I glanced up as Frank came bursting through the bushes.

"Frank." I blinked in surprise. He was out of breath and quickly jumped off his horse, raced towards me, took me in his arms and kissed me.

If I were being completely truthful, the gesture was a bit unwelcomed and it made me feel dirty. I needed to tell him, obviously, but now wasn't the best time so soon after something had clearly happened.

And the most noticeable difference to Frank, was the red coated uniform he wore.


Thank you all for reading. She will be getting her memory back very soon, I hope you have enjoyed this chapter which has hopefully revealed some of the tension