Day one had arrived. Their first stop, a quaint little village exactly as Molly imagined. Farm animals everywhere, small cottages lined next to each other. It was like a scene from Brave Heart, but real and without the glorification of Hollywood. On their arrival, a small group of men formed. There was a mix of emotions from the tenants. Some indifferent while others were noticeably worried. These locations were on MacKenzie land; if these people paid a small fee, they would have the clan's protection. While Molly couldn't stand the man, the people loved Dougal. He had a way of easing their minds.

Molly, despite the anger she felt towards Dougal, felt very excited. Having firsthand experience in this historical way of life was incredible. However, it seemed the War-Chief wanted to squash Molly's hope of helping as soon as the idea came to mind. Molly spent her time helping set up the collection table, even greeted men in line. Eventually, taking a seat next to Jamie, who has been through this process before. He explained in detail how it worked, but soon after they were interrupted by Dougal tapping Molly across the shoulder, Dougal motioned for her to step aside with him. Reluctantly Molly followed.

She could only imagine what it was Dougal wanted. Telling someone to go back to their own country seemed hard to follow-up. Knowing Dougal, he would think of something, and he didn't disappoint.

"I think it's best if ye let us men handle the rest of this. You should go for a walk. Having ye around will cause too much of a distraction for these men."

Let the Men handle it? A distraction? Molly stopped herself from laughing at the sheer stupidity of what he said. "I set everything up with no help from you. Now I'm told I can't even stand there and watch quietly?" With a defiant shake of her head. "No. I'm staying."

Dougal gazed down at the younger woman with furrowed brows, rubbing his chin, mulling over what she said until." No."

Molly didn't want to create a scene in front of everyone, but the longer Dougal stood with his arms folded and domineering personality, the more frustrated she became.

Slowly Molly folded her arms while her eyes narrowed."Laird MacKenzie wanted me on this trip to help!" Molly barked. She didn't need to look to know her outburst caused curious eyes to peer over. "I'm helping."

"Laird MacKenzie isn't in charge, now is he?" Dougal added smugly. Unfolding his arms, he took a steady step forward, closing what little distance between them. "Take a walk." He commanded with an unyielding stare.

Molly pursed her lips together, giving a cold stare of her own at how unfair he was being. In her mind, Molly wasn't going to put up with it until realizing Dougal wasn't changing his mind. "Fine." Her response somber.

Like a dog with their tail between their legs, Molly sauntered back to the table, brushing past Murtagh, who stood quietly, pretending he hadn't eavesdropped on the conversation. Molly reached across the table, grabbing for her gloves."Have fun." She told them all but offering a weary smile to Murtagh.

Dougal waited for Molly to disappear into the Village; turning back towards his men, he let out a whistle, motioning for Murtagh.

"Go follow her." The War-Chief commanded.

Feeling put out from the request, Murtagh shot a stare towards the other male."Why?" He snorted.

"Just do it. Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."

If it was a choice between watching men stand in line or following a beautiful lass around, the choice was simple. What Murtagh didn't like was how unnecessary it was, although he knew why Dougal was doing it and lacked the energy to argue with him. Besides, his view became significantly better. Half-heartedly, Murtagh agreed. Quickly he left to look for the American.

The village seemed much larger than Molly originally thought. The homes stretched further; there was a blacksmith; one woman was going around with a wheelbarrow full of produce mostly carrots, and lettuce. Molly wasn't sure, but it looked like she was trying to sell them. Children were running around, other women hanging laundry, life felt normal. It was enjoyable watching these everyday experiences. It was a simplicity that she learned to love. While she strolled around, Molly didn't even find herself thinking about Boston; she was thinking about Mrs. Fitz, and what work was waiting for her when she returned. Then she would hear a sound or smell a smell that reminded her of where she was and why she was there, but more often than not, she felt homesick for the place she had started to call home.

Molly had been walking around aimlessly, unsure of how much time had passed until deciding she was gone long enough. Molly started to head in the direction she came, her eyes diverted to the ground while she lifted the bottom of her skirt from dragging in the mud. It wasn't until she felt a man's grip that she realized someone followed her.

"Watch ye're step lass." Murtagh intervened, helping her over the mud puddle.

Molly looked up at the scruffy male and smiled warmly. "Have you been following me the entire time?" She felt relief knowing it was him.

"Aye." Murtagh became hesitant worried about her response. To his surprise, the young woman seemed unfazed, and in a way, pleased.

"I don't mind." She told him softly. Walking ahead, Molly glanced over her shoulder at Murtagh, hoping he'd walk with her instead of idly behind.

There was something about her, something about the way she watched him. Murtagh thought, catching his breath every time Molly looked at him. She had the sweetest demeanor, and her smile even sweeter. He knew this feeling he had been here before. Molly seemed to like him well enough, although his own experience made him cautious.

"Can I ask you a question?" Molly asked suddenly, as she studied Murtagh curiously.

The quiet Scotsman peered over at her with a raised brow. "Aye." Intrigued by the question.

"Well.." She began slowly. "It's just.." It was harder to ask than she thought, originally. Nervously she shoved her hands in her skirt pockets, taking a deep breath. "Your opinion of me matters to me and I was… okay. I was just wondering… do you think I'm a spy?"

The way she stammered over her words had piqued his interest until he heard the question. Murtagh remembered every detail from their first encounter. It upset him that Molly felt she had to ask. Dougal's poison casting doubt in her mind. Becoming noticeably quiet, he stopped walking. Murtagh gently reached for her arm, forcing Molly to stop and look at him. Her smile became replaced with a look of worry. "I know yer no a spy." That was the truth. He would stake his life on it. Lifting his hand from Molly's shoulder, Molly took hold of it. Her gaze fell while she softly clasped Murtagh's hand. She didn't speak right away.

"Thank you. You're a good man Murtagh." She told him earnestly. There were many things she wanted to say, but the words weren't there. It went without saying she felt something for the man that she knew. Murtagh had always been good to her, kind, never made her feel like an Outlander. Jamie too, but Murtagh was different.

He would have done anything to keep holding her hand, but her fingers slipped from his hold as soon as it happened. Murtagh looked up with her eyes meeting his, the only thing he thought to say was, "Ye're too pretty no to smile." Not what he wanted to say, but it did elicit a smirk and a signature eye-roll from the lass.

"You and Jamie are very close," Molly pointed out as they walked; this being the only time they had been alone together since the account with the English soldier, it felt like the perfect time to get to know him a little bit. "How long have you known him?"

"His whole life," Murtagh explained. "Jamie's my Godson." He wanted to leave it at that but felt compelled to say more. It was in the way her pretty green-eyes looked up at him. Made him weak. " I was his father's second cousin. When Jamie was a week old I swore an oath to his mother that I would follow Jamie always, do his bidding and guard his back when he became a man." Naturally, upon hearing this, Molly had to ask why? Murtagh continued to explain to her about wooing Jamie's mother Ellen and killing the Boar, and using the tusks to make bracelets for her, and how Ellen married Jamie's father. So the bracelets became a wedding gift instead. The story left a clear mark on the young woman.

Flabbergasted, Molly replied, "Murtagh, that is the most romantic thing I have ever heard." Men of modern society needed to take notes. No one had ever tried to woo her before, at least not like that. It was the type of romantic gesture you fond of in books and movies. Never real life.

Being described as romantic was a first he certainly wasn't trying to be. Hearing the compliment caused Murtagh to wrinkle his nose. Trying his best to redirect the conversation away from himself, Murtagh asked. "Tell me, Molly any Scottish lads caught yer fancy?" The man was curious.

She knew what she wanted to tell him, but fear prevented Molly from speaking the truth. "Maybe." Playing coy, she glanced over to Murtagh. "I thought you didn't meddle in the affairs of women?"

"Aye, I don't, but ye're no just a woman," Murtagh replied calmly.

Unsure by what he meant, Molly gave him a questioning look. "What does that mean?" Her tone offensive.

Murtagh had been watching the ground before looking over at Molly with raised brows. "Ye're my friend." He spoke with conviction.

Molly studied him quietly before shyly looking away. There certainly was more to Murtagh than meets the eye. The longer they spoke, the more time she wished they had. Opening her mouth to speak, Molly got cutoff by Murtagh, who had a follow-up question.

"Ye have someone waiting for you back home?"

Of course, Murtagh asked it was a natural question, but that didn't stop her from wanting to crawl under a rock. Molly felt unprepared; it immediately brought up memories and emotions she wanted to keep buried. She even contemplated changing the subject altogether, but at the same time felt that if Murtagh could share with her one of his most personal stories, she could do the same.

"No… I was supposed to get married." She started. By the look Murtagh gave her, it was not how he thought this conversation would go. Part of him felt guilty thinking; the story headed for a tragic end. In a way, it did.

"His name was Miles. One day I found him in bed with another woman who I called my friend. She was tall, blonde… beautiful, everything I'm not. I guess she gave him what I couldn't. I thought he loved me. I was wrong." Her words trailed at the end. It had been a long time since Molly brought this up to anyone. Hearing herself say it out loud made her feel ashamed as if something had to have been wrong with her. "When my father found out. He punched him in the face." Smiling, she looked over to Murtagh. "He's been the only person to defend me like that. Except for you, you always seem to be exactly where I need you to be. Must be a Scottish thing."

"Yer his blood, and no matter what, a Scotsman will always defend his own. Yer one of us Molly, don't forget that. That Miles fellow is a fucking idiot if he couldn't see what he had. Any man would be honored to have you by their side."

Once again, Murtagh had left her speechless. Sweet and warm, the opposite of what his outward appearance would lead you to believe.

"Why, are you being so nice to me?" Molly had to ask. Murtagh had been so good to her even now. It was a stark difference between him and Dougal. There had to have been a purpose behind it.

Murtagh went quiet, his dark eyes diverted to the ground, as he ran his hand through his beard. Glancing over to Molly. "Yer letting me."

Neither one had noticed they stopped walking again. Molly turned on her heel to get a better look at Murtagh, their eyes met, and a soft smile slipped across her lips. But it quickly disappeared when she observed how distracted he became. Molly watched his eyebrows furrow with his hand taking hold of the sword resting on his hip. Curious as to what he was seeing Molly turned. She immediately wished she hadn't. Three Redcoats were hanging around the blacksmith. They had no idea how long the soldiers had been there, but there they were clear as day. Molly felt her stomach sink than as she watched the soldiers, two began to turn in their direction. Not knowing what to do, she threw herself against Murtagh, burying her face against his chest. Murtagh offered no resistance, only tightened his hold on her. Lowering his head, he concealed his face from the soldiers. Whether they would recognize them or not, they didn't know, but that was a risk they weren't going to take.

After a few minutes, Molly took a chance to see if the soldiers were still facing them, but they had started to disperse in the opposite direction. Lifting her head, Molly looked up at Murtagh, who repeated the same action. She then realized she was still holding onto him. "I'm sorry."

Without skipping a beat."I'm no complaining lass," Murtagh replied.

Finally, the two managed to pull themselves apart, and in perfect timing, Angus came strolling their way, motioning for them to hurry up.