15 January, 1767
The Artemis
JAMIE POV
After checking on the cargo, Jamie decided to return to his cabin, where he had left Catrìona sleeping that morning. Something about her was… off… lately. She seemed quieter than she had been when they were together in Paris, and she seemed very easily agitated by just about anything, but mostly him. Once Jamie determined that one of the triggers was him asking her to lie with him, he ultimately decided to lay off in fear of upsetting her further, but it was definitely taking its toll on him. As he entered the cabin, he found his wife with a rather distressed look on her face as she stood in front of the mirror, which alarmed Jamie. "What is it?" he asked her.
"My hair ," she said with exasperation. "There's white in it!" Jamie had to pause for a moment, and then he had to fight off the urge to laugh. Jamie had a few white hairs himself near his temples and in his beard when he grew it out, but it never bothered him. Catrìona's hair looked a bit atrocious at the moment because her red hairs were growing back in, leaving a very distinct line between the brown she came back with and the red she had grown since. Her hair had grown several inches already, leaving a very short red section and a longer brown section.
"I… dinnae see any white," Jamie replied as he came into the cabin, and she plucked a piece and showed it to him - to him, at least, it still looked pretty red, though perhaps more blonde than red. "It doesnae look white te me."
"There's more than one," she said, sifting through her hair to reveal a small patch of white near her scalp, and Jamie couldn't help but chuckle, which earned him a glare from his wife. "Ye think this is funny?"
"Amusin'," Jamie replied, giving her a cheeky grin. "Yer forty-five, Catrìona. Yer no' gettin' any younger. It's te be expected. Look here - I have white hairs, too."
"But yer a man, it's expected! And attractive as well. On me, it jus' means I'm gettin' auld and… dried up," she replied, turning her attention back to her reflection as she tried to hide her silvery hairs, and Jamie stopped her, taking her hands in his and turning her to face them.
"I like the grey," he told her, bringing her hands to his lips to kiss them, then brought up his hand to stroke her hair. "It's like a piece of silver moonlight… Yer a matured woman, mo nighean ruadh , and I like ye fine, silver hairs or no'." Her cheeks flushed a little pink, and she glanced away shyly.
"Well, tha's verra kind of ye, but I still am no' ready te accept it," she replied. "I dyed it when the war started. I was thirty-eight, still kind of young, and I certainly didnae have any grey or white hairs then. I wasnae expectin' te see it when my red hair came back."
"If it helps any, ye still drive me mad wi' lust," Jamie told her, wrapping his arms around her and burying his lips into her neck. She pulled away from him meekly, evidently uncomfortable with this interaction. "Catrìona…"
"Sorry, I… I just… I should go back te the infirmary, check on my patients," she said, pulling herself from his arms, and then she was gone. Jamie let out a soft sigh; Aye, she was definitely behaving strangely. The Catrìona he knew wouldn't get so upset about something so small. What could be going on with her?
16 January, 1767
CAOIMHE POV
The air was growing warmer, so Caoimhe decided to forgo her shawl as she went for a walk up on the deck. She leaned against the bulkhead, glancing up as she watched Archie, who was seated on one of the battens of the ship above her, joking with one of the sailors as he tightened the sails. Caoimhe let out a sigh, daydreaming for a moment that she was the one up there, rather than stuck down on the deck surrounded by men who thought her too weak to handle such work simply because she was a woman.
"Can I ask ye somethin'?" Caoimhe jumped, turning her head to see Marsali standing beside her. Caoimhe had learned, in the month and a half that they had been living together in their cabin, that Marsali was fifteen years old, and that she wasn't as naive as Caoimhe had initially thought. Marsali had lost her father when he was sent to prison when she was young, and it was one of the first memories she held. It was something they had in common - one of Caoimhe's earliest memories involved her father getting arrested as well.
"Er… Sure," Caoimhe replied, confused as to why Marsali was suddenly seeking her advice.
"How did ye do it? Get yerself te France all on yer own," Marsali asked, and Caoimhe chuckled a little.
"It was difficult, I'll give ye tha'. I had our housekeeper book me passage onto a ship te France, and once I got there, I started askin' around aboot what ship belonged te a Jared Fraser. I heard Uncle Jamie mention him te my Da, so wi' that information, I figured out which ship it was, found an empty barrel and brought it te the items that would be goin' on and hid in it," Caoimhe told her, and Marsali's eyes widened.
"All by yerself?" she asked.
"All by myself," Caoimhe replied, and Marsali lightly scoffed.
"I dinnae ken if yer brave or mad," she said.
"A good combination of the two gets things done," Caoimhe told her, winking at her. She turned and looked back up at the mast, letting out a soft sigh. "What I wouldnae give te be up there."
"It's so high," Marsali replied.
"Aye, it must be like flyin'. Like a bird," Caoimhe replied. "I tried te fly once. I caught a horde of seagulls and tied ropes te them so they could fly away and take me wi' them, but it didnae work. I was a bit too heavy fer them." She chuckled lightly. "I miss birds. There arenae any this far out at sea."
"We'll be hittin' land soon, no?" Marsali asked her, but Caoimhe shook her head.
"I look at the sky as a map, read it te figure out where we are, and we arenae anywhere near land, and willnae be fer another month or so yet," Caoimhe told her as Marsali looked up.
"But how do ye read the sky? There's nothin' but clouds and the sun," she asked, and Caoimhe chuckled again.
"No, aotrom . The stars, at night," Caoimhe told her.
"Ye can read the stars? Do they have words on them? What sort of vision must ye have te see tha'?" Marsali asked.
"Well, no. Maps are pictures, wi' landmarks and the like. There's certain stars that make pictures - constellations - like the Seven Sisters, Cassiopeia, Perseus - and ye can see different ones at different places. It's all in reference te the North Star - the one that the wise men followed te meet baby Jesus in Bethlehem," Caoimhe explained.
"It's real? I thought it was just a story, or somethin' that no longer existed," Marsali replied, looking out at the horizon.
"Oh, no, it's real, and it's due north. I'll point it out te ye tonight," Caoimhe told her.
"Where did ye learn such a thing?" Marsali asked, and Caoimhe smiled, looking up at the clouds in the sky.
"My grandsire taught me," she replied.
"Look there, ye see that? That bright wee light up ahead," said Grandsire, pointing up at the star in question.
"Yeah!" little Caoimhe cried excitedly. "Daddy says it's the Star of Bethlehem!"
"Aye, that it is, and it's also called the North Star. Sailors use it te navigate the sea by night," Grandsire replied, holding onto Caoimhe tightly as she sat on the top of the battlement, her little feet dangling over the side of the castle.
"How do they do it, Grandda?" Caoimhe asked him.
"What ye can do is find a star exactly above where ye want te go, and tha's the direction ye follow. But there's a problem - the stars move!" Grandsire said to her.
"No they dinnae, Grandda!" Caoimhe chirped, and Grandsire chuckled.
"Aye, lass, they do," he told her. "But the North Star is the only star that doesnae move - that is why the three wisemen were able te use it te find Bethlehem. The North Star is always the same angle above ye as is where ye are in the world - it's called latitude. Have ye seen the horizontal lines on a map?" Caoimhe nodded. "Here, close yer hand into a fist, and point it directly at the star." Caoimhe did as she was told, and the top of her hand rested just under the North Star. "Perfect. This is always aboot ten degrees, hen. Wherever ye are in the world, ye can use this te find out where ye are."
Caoimhe smiled warmly at the memory. Like Archie, she had always been close to Grandsire, and she took it rather hard when he passed away when she was eleven. "I ken that look," Marsali said suddenly, and then she sighed. "I get tha' look when I think of my Ma."
"So do I," Caoimhe replied somewhat sadly.
"What happened te her?" asked Marsali, and for a moment, Caoimhe was silent.
"She died," Caoimhe replied.
"Oh… I'm sorry te hear," said Marsali. "I dinnae ken what I'd do if my Ma died."
"I think ye'd do fine," Caoimhe told her, glancing at her with a soft smile. "Yer tough and strong. Dinnae let anyone tell ye otherwise." Caoimhe thought she could see the beginnings of a small smile growing on Marsali's face.
"Ahem. Marsali?" Both girls turned to see Fergus standing behind them, a slightly awkward look on his face as he wrung his handkerchief. "May I… speak with you alone? I have some important news to share with you."
"I'll take the hint, lovebirds," Caoimhe teased the pair of them, and then she left the bulkhead, leaving Marsali and Fergus alone to discuss whatever it was they needed. As she climbed down to the lower deck, she came across Mr. Willoughby sitting on the deck writing strange symbols on a piece of parchment. Raising an eyebrow curiously, Caoimhe tried to make sense of it, but the little symbols meant nothing to her. "Hello, Mr. Willoughby." The little Chinese man glanced up in surprise.
" Xiuying !" he said to her, calling her by the name he addressed her as. He called Uncle Jamie 'Tsei-mi', Archie 'Honourable Red', Fergus 'Frog Man' after evidently hearing Archie call him that, Auntie Cat 'Honourable Wife' and Marsali 'Fair Flower'.
"Sorry te startle ye, Mr. Willoughby," Caoimhe said to him with a soft chuckle. "What's tha' yer doin' there? These symbols, what do they mean?"
"Ah, it is, uh… poem," said Mr. Willoughby. "I have been scribing the story of my life in China, so that it may not be forgotten. When story is told… a life is lived."
"Oh, how lovely," Caoimhe told him, crossing her arms over her abdomen. "I love poetry. Would ye mind readin' it te me?" With a smile, Mr. Willoughby shook his head.
"No, Xiuying . Not yet. Once I tell it, I must let it go," said Mr. Willoughby.
"What does tha' mean? Shoo-ying?" Caoimhe asked him.
" Xiuying . It mean 'brave and beautiful'," said Mr. Willoughby, and Caoimhe couldn't help but lightly blush and smile.
"Well, than ye verra much… a charaid coibhneil . It means 'kind friend'," Caoimhe replied.
JAMIE POV
After his private meeting with Willoughby for the day, Jamie made his way back up to the top deck, suddenly finding himself ambushed by Marsali, who had a determined look on her face. Great, what now? he thought to himself.
"Fergus told me everrathin'," she said to him rather sternly and with a firm look on her face. "I'm no' so naive te think he hasnae been wi' other lassies."
"Marsali, not just now, please," Jamie told her, trying to step past her, but she moved in front of him like a stubborn boulder, unwilling to move.
"Will ye bless our union now? I ken everrathin'. He's been honest, ye told him it doesnae mean anythin' if he isnae honest wi' me, and now he has been," Marsali demanded, and Jamie huffed with frustration.
"Yer a lass, and Fergus is a man. Ye have a different level of maturity. Ye will tire of each other, and what'll that leave ye? Alone, wi' bairns te raise on yer own, starvin' in the streets," he told her firmly. "I cannae allow it. I willnae allow it, and I'll hear not another word aboot it, Marsali."
"Yer no' bein' fair, Da!" Marsali exclaimed, stamping her foot.
"I'm yer father. I dinnae have te be fair," Jamie told her, and she gave him a loud growl and then stamped off, leaving Jamie to huff and continue on. He nearly jumped out his skin when Archie suddenly landed on the ground beside him, having jumped down from the batten using a rope. "Jesus bloody Christ, Archie! Dinnae frighten me so!"
"Sorry, Da. I just couldnae help but overhear yer wee argument wi' Marsali," Archie told him, and Jamie sighed.
"I've heard just aboot everraone's opinion of it already. Am I aboot te hear yers as well?" he asked him.
"Well, it wasnae my goal, but if yer askin', I think ye should let them continue wi' this and maybe they'll get bored wi' each other. Da, ye ken as well as I do, kids will do what they like whether ye like it or not," Archie told his father, and Jamie chuckled a little.
"Aye, I ken verra well they do," Jamie told him, giving him a look. "Had I not stopped ye, ye might've gone and gotten Mistress Isobel wi' child, if ye dinnae recall."
"Mistress Isobel?" Archie asked. "Oh, aye, I remember her. I wouldnae have bedded her, I just wanted te steal a few kisses here and there."
"Kisses lead te sharin' a bed, lad," Jamie told him.
"So ye bedded lassies ye kissed before ye married Mama?" Archie asked, and Jamie sighed.
"As a matter of fact, I didnae," he replied.
"So why does everraone else's kissin' lead te lyin' together but yers didnae?" Archie asked him. This lad was too clever for his own good, but he did have a point.
"Marsali and Fergus gettin' bored of each other is what I fear," Jamie replied rather matter-of-factly. "Archie, the lass is under my protection. I ken the kind of man Fergus is, and ye do as well. I'll not risk him leavin' her pregnant like he did tha' lass in Edinburgh."
"Thomasina lost the child, Da," Archie reminded him, recalling when Fergus laid with the daughter of the baker across the street from the print shop.
"It doesnae matter whether she lost the child or no', lad. He still left her wi' child and didnae do right by her. I'll not have him do that wi' Marsali," Jamie told him a bit irritably.
"Has a crab bitten yer bollocks lately? Ye seem angry aboot somethin', Da, and I dinnae appreciate ye takin' it out on me. I'm only tryin' te help ye no' pish off another daughter te oblivion." Jamie, for a moment, narrowed his eyes at his son, but realised that Archie did have a point. Brèagha had her moments where she utterly despised him, and Marsali, though she wasn't his second chance at having a daughter, she was his daughter, once by law but now by heart. She had grown quieter and colder towards him since he refused to bless their union, and the looks she gave him were similar to looks Brèagha had given him in the past. He let out a soft sigh, leaning against the bulkhead and looking out at the horizon.
"Yer mother and I… cannae seem te reach an understandin'," he told Archie quietly. "I've tried te understand her mind, but it seems I cannae make her happy. Ever since we left Paris, she's pushed me away, willnae look me in the eye, willnae lie wi' me. She returns te bed late at night expectin' me te already be asleep. I dinnae ken what I've done wrong."
"Aye, I've noticed her change in behaviour as well," Archie told him. "She may just be under stress. She's worried aboot Caoimhe, I ken tha'. No matter how many times I tell her tha' Caoimhe's a tough lass who's been kent fer punchin' lads who've tried te kiss her, it doesnae seem te get through te her."
"I dinnae think it's just that, lad. I think there's more to it," Jamie told him. "Yesterday, she noticed among her red hairs a piece of silver and it seemed te frighten her. It's normal in women her age, but she didnae seem te want te accept tha'."
"Oh, aye, I've seen it. I like tha' silver streak," Archie replied.
"She doesnae, but I imagine that isnae the sole cause of her distress," Jamie said with a sigh. "I dinnae ken how te reach her. She willnae speak te me. It's as if she doesnae trust me."
"Do ye want me te try speakin' te her?" Archie asked. "There are things she's felt comfortable sayin' te me, bein' her son. Perhaps I can get through te her, find out what's botherin' her."
"I suppose it cannae hurt," Jamie told him. "Aye, if ye find the time, and pick the right moment. I would appreciate it verra much, lad."
18 January, 1767
ARCHIE POV
Wiping a bit of sweat off of his forehead after he finished hoisting another sail, Archie put his hands on his hips and glanced upwards at the sail. Beside him was Manzetti, who seemed equally as exhausted and sweaty as Archie was. It was near sunset, and yet the heat was still unbearable. "It's gettin' hot," Archie said to him. "We must be nearin' the Indies, aye?"
"Aye, more likely the equator," Manzetti told him. "Tell me, lad, have ya heard of the doldrums?"
"The doldrums?" Archie asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Aye, they come around the equator. It's when the wind stops and the water stills, looks like glass for miles. A right frightful sight, it is. I've only seen it once in my life," Manzetti told him. "You've no idea when the winds will come again, and you're just stuck there on the water."
"Well, hopefully, we dinnae encounter them," Archie replied, glancing away and noticing his mother on the deck going down to the cabins. "Thanks fer helpin' wi' the sails." Archie gave him a pat on his shoulder before he rushed down to the lower deck after his mother. "Mama!" he called, and she stopped and glanced up at him, watching him as he bounded down the stairs.
"Careful on the stairs, a leannan , Caoimhe took a harsh tumble down them the other day," Mama told him.
"Ah, I'm a hell of a lot less clumsy than Caoimhe," Archie replied with a chuckle, following his mother as she continued down to the cabins. "Mama, I wanted te ask ye somethin'. Ye seem a bit… off, lately. I wanted te ask if ye were feelin' well?" Mama let out a soft sigh, likely expecting someone to notice her change in behaviour eventually.
"Aye, lamb, I'm fine," she said, but she didn't sound 'fine' at all.
"Are ye sure? Mama, if yer stressed, ye ken ye can talk te me, aye?" Archie asked her.
"Aye, I do. I appreciate it, Archie, but I promise ye, I dinnae need te talk. I'm just tired," she told him. "I'm goin' back te my cabin now fer a wee kip before I do my rounds."
"Aye, all right," Archie replied. "If ye insist yer fine, I'll tell ye I believe ye, but ken I dinnae."
"Thanks fer the support, lamb," Mama told him, touching his arm before she opened the door to her cabin and froze. "What the hell ?"
"Catrìona!" Archie heard his father exclaim from inside, and curiosity getting the better of him, Archie poked his head in and broke down into fits of hysterical laughter. Sitting there on the bed, with Mr. Willoughby standing over him, was his father with little needles sticking out of his face, and the sight was positively hilarious.
"Uh, my apology, Honourable Wife," Mr. Willoughby stammered. "He did not want to, but I uh, insisted."
"Didnae want te what?" Mama asked, looking at Da curiously.
"Um, zhēn cì . For the vomiting," Mr. Willoughby exclaimed.
"Acupuncture?" Mama asked as she looked at Da's prickly face.
"It is my fault. I should never have," Mr. Willoughby said somewhat meekly, bowing his head to Mama, and Da let out a sigh.
"It's all right, Willoughby, ye can go," Da told Mr. Willoughby, who left quickly. He then narrowed his eyes at Archie, who continued to laugh. "If yer no' careful, ye'll pish yerself."
"It'll be worth it fer another look at yer face, Da," Archie said as he laughed, plopping down on top of a crate in the room.
"So," Mama said after a moment as she approached him, taking in the needles on his face. "This is what's cured yer seasickness, and no' the tea I've been makin' ye twice a day fer weeks now?"
"Aye," Da replied a little meekly.
"Ye could have told me at least," Mama replied, not angry but definitely a bit tense.
"I didnae want te hurt yer feelin's," Da told her, and she raised an eyebrow.
"My feelin's? Do ye honestly think I'd want ye te suffer te save my pride?" she asked him, and Da let out a soft sigh.
"Well, we arenae on the most stable ground just now, are we, Catrìona?" he asked her. "I ken ye've been… unhappy lately, and I didnae want ye te see it as more proof ye dinnae belong wi' me any longer." Mama's face changed a little, and it was evident that she was distressed.
"Have I… have I made ye feel that way?" she asked him. "Have I made ye think that I've stopped lovin' ye?"
"No, of course not!" Da exclaimed. "I…" He let out a sigh, evidently forgetting Archie was still in the room. "Well, perhaps… Ye willnae… lie wi' me… Ye can hardly look me in the eye, ye havenae kissed me in days. I… Do ye no'… want me anymore, Catrìona?"
"Christ," Mama muttered quietly. "I… I'm sorry, Jamie, I…" She backed away from him, bumping into the table behind her, and Archie stood up when he noticed how pale she was.
"Mama?" he asked, which made her jump a little as her head whipped around to look at him.
"I… I need a minute," she said, and then she turned and rushed out of the room.
"Catrìona!" Da called after her.
"I'll go after her, Da. Ye get those needles out of her face, ye look like a damned pincushion," Archie told his father, and then he ran out after his mother. "Mama? Mama!" She was already gone, and he couldn't find her anywhere. One of the doors to another cabin opened and Caoimhe's head poked out, watching him curiously.
"Is everrathin' all right?" she asked Archie.
"Aye, Mama's no' feelin' well just now. Not illness, just… I dinnae ken," Archie told her.
"Do ye want help?" Caoimhe asked him, but he shook his head.
"No, she's gone off so I imagine she wants te be alone," Archie replied, and then he softly sighed. "Just go back te bed. I'll deal with this."
"Oh, all right. If ye need anythin', come and get me," Caoimhe told him.
"Aye, I will. Thank ye, Caoimhe," Archie told her, and then he went up on the top deck to look for his mother. She was nowhere to be found, likely hiding so she could be alone, so Archie opted to just leave her be and hung around on the top deck with all of the doors in view in case she came back up. Within an hour or so, she did, and she went straight to the bulkhead and wiped her eyes on her sleeves. "Mama?" Archie asked, approaching her from behind. "Mama, are ye all right?"
"No," she said quietly. "No, Archie, I'm no'…"
"Talk te me, Mama. Tell me what's wrong. I hate seein' ye so upset," Archie told her as he stood next to her, and she wiped her eyes again. "Is it Da? Do ye… Do ye not love him anymore?"
"Of course not, Archie. It isnae that at all," Mama told him, closing her eyes as she gripped the bulkhead. "A long time ago… I gave up hope of ever seein' yer father again. Losin' him was cripplin'. I couldnae sleep or eat, I hated the child I carried inside of me because she was a piece of him, and she was the reason we had te part. Of course, I… ken it wasnae her fault. She didnae ask te be born. I was glad I had her wi' me. It was like… havin' a piece of yer father there with me. But… lovin' him tore me te pieces. I wasnae livin', only survivin', and there were some days that I couldnae find the strength te breathe. So I… let him go. And when war came, and I had te let go of yer sister as well… I let go of any chance I'd ever be in love or happy again. Feelin' it again was wonderful…. but there's a voice in the back of my head that is constantly remindin' me that I dinnae deserve it, that I'll never be happy again, tha' Jamie will find out aboot this cold, heartless monster I've become and he'll hate me. Archie… I love yer father more than anythin' in the world, but I'm afraid of him. Not in the sense tha'… I think he'll hurt me… As the man I love, he has all of the power in the world te destroy me simply by tellin' me he doesnae want me anymore. And I dinnae ken if I can live wi' that."
"Mama, have ye gone mad?" Archie asked her, listening intently to what she had to say. "Da loves ye so much. Ye didnae see him when ye were separated, or when ye were ill and we didnae ken if ye would live or die. Mama, he wasnae the man I kent te be my father. He was weak, a cold shadow of the man he used te be, but when ye came back… I didnae just get my mother back, I got my father back, too. He started smilin' again, and his eyes no longer looked as if he were dead inside. He loves ye, Mama. Ye are his entire world."
"Even if I'm… no' the same person he fell in love with all those years ago?" Mama asked him meekly, glancing up at him.
"We've all changed, Mama. None of us are the same. No' you, no' Da, no' me, no' Brèagha… even Uncle Cailean, Caoimhe, everraone has changed. It's what's supposed te happen te us as we live, no? We're supposed te change and adapt te what goes on around us," Archie answered her.
"God, Archie," Mama said, tears rolling down her cheeks again, and Archie pulled her into his arms and embraced her, kissing the top of her head.
"It's all right, Mama," he told her as he comforted his mother - the same way she once used to comfort him when he was a lad.
"God, when did ye grow up?" she asked him. "Ye've grown te be so wise, and so strong… Christ, I cannae tell ye how sorry I am I wasnae here fer ye, my lamb."
"Ye had te go, Mama," Archie told her. "Had ye not gone, ye would have probably been arrested and likely died in prison, so ye wouldnae be here now."
"I should have been here the whole time," she muttered back to him.
"Had ye stayed, I probably wouldnae have my mother here with me now, and I wouldnae change that fer all the world," Archie replied. "I love ye so much, Mama. I'm so glad yer here now."
"I love ye too, Archie," she told him quietly, falling silent as she rested her head on his chest and looked out at the sea. She was quiet for a long time before she finally spoke again. "What kind of mother can I be?"
"What do ye mean? Yer already the best mother there is," Archie said to her, but she shook her head.
"I'm the mother of three grown bairns, and I missed out on raisin' all of them," she told him. "How can I… how can I be a new mother again?"
"How can ye?" Archie asked, pulling back from the embrace to look at her. "Mama, wha's goin' on? Yer not makin' much sense." She didn't answer him, but instead, she glanced down, and Archie followed her gaze to see that she was resting her hand on her belly, and he gasped softly. "Ye… ye dinnae mean…"
"I… wasnae sure fer a while… but now, I… I'm fairly positive tha'… I'm pregnant," she told him, watching her hand on her belly.
"Christ, Mama… Is it even possible?" Archie asked her, now completely shocked. "I didnae ken women of yer age could…" At this, her head shot up at him.
"I'm only forty-five! There's plenty of women who can have bairns this late in life," she told him, and then she let out a soft sigh. "I… I dinnae ken if I can even be a mother te a bairn now. I was… such a different person when I had ye and yer sisters. I'd seen one war already when I had ye, but I was younger, more adaptable… Now, I've seen two, and I've killed so many people since tha'… it's all changed who I am. I've seen things that have changed how I see the world. I cannae be the same mother te this child that I was te you and yer sisters."
"But ye will, Mama. Yer so strong, the strongest woman I ken, and I ken that ye'll be the greatest mother on earth, same as ye were te me and te Brèagha," Archie told her with a smile. "Is this why ye've been actin' so strange?"
"It's… been on my mind," Mama told him with a sigh as she looked back out at the sea. "It's been tearin' me apart inside wi' fear that I'll ruin this child."
"Ye need te tell Da," Archie told her. "There's no question. Ye must tell Da. He can help ye, Mama."
"I dinnae ken if he can," Mama told him.
"Perhaps ye should let me be the judge of tha'," said a voice behind them, and they both turned to see Da standing there, evidently having overhead the entire conversation.
"Da!" Archie exclaimed with surprise.
"Thank ye verra much, Archie, but I'll take it from here," Da told him, his eyes on Mama, who looked terrified.
"All right," Archie said, looking at his mother, who silently begged him with her eyes to not go. "I'll be turnin' in now, I'm quite exhausted. I'll see ye in the mornin', Mama." He bent down to kiss her forehead, and then he left his parents alone to talk with each other.
CATRÌONA POV
I was horrified. Had he heard my entire conversation with Archie? Was this how he was going to find out that I was pregnant with our child? Oh, Blessed Bride, nothing was going right! I watched him fearfully as he stood there in silence for a moment, and then he moved to stand beside me at the bulkhead. Oh, for Bride's sake, Jamie, just say something!
"A bairn, aye?" he said calmly after several moments of silence, and I nodded. "How long have ye kent aboot it?"
"I… I had suspicions fer… some time, but… I wasnae sure until… a few days ago," I told him meekly, and he nodded.
"Yer afraid of me?" he asked me again, and I could feel my stomach drop. "Catrìona, what have I done te make ye fearful of me?"
"It… it isnae you , it… it's me," I replied. "I… I lost so much of who I once was, Jamie. When I said goodbye te ye at the stones, I gave up everrathin' . I was livin' in an echo of a life I used te have, of a life tha'… belonged te someone else, not te me. And livin' without ye, Jamie… it was so hard. Over time, I learned te live with it, and it was the hardest thing I've ever had te do, but… then it became the norm fer me. When I saw ye again, got te be in yer arms and… take ye te bed… It was like I was livin' in a dream, that it was me, but it wasnae me, and then I reminded myself tha'… the lass ye married was a different woman, too, and that I was livin' in yet another echo of a life I used te have, that didnae belong te me, but te someone else."
"So ye pushed me away," he said quietly.
"Jamie, I… I cannae lose ye again," I told him, feeling tears stinging my eyes again. "I wouldnae survive it. It would kill me te have te live without ye again. So aye, I… pushed ye away, because I'm afraid that ye willnae like what ye find the more ye get ye ken me all over again."
"So ye made the decision that I dinnae even get the chance te try?" Jamie asked me, catching me off guard. He wasn't angry, but he certainly didn't sound happy with me.
"I… I suppose I did, aye," I said.
"How is that fair, Catrìona? Yer not even givin' me a chance te ken ye. Ye've just… made up yer mind that I'll grow te hate ye and leave ye? Without even speakin' te me first?" he asked me, turning his head to look at me.
"It sounds like I was right," I said defensively.
"No, Catrìona, yer wrong ," he said sharply, turning entirely to face me. "I could never grow te hate ye, no matter who ye are or who ye've become. I will always love ye no matter what ye've done, what ye've seen, what life has done te ye. There is nothin' in this world that will make me stop lovin' ye."
"How can ye be so sure?" I asked him.
"How can I be sure? How can I be sure that I love ye and will never stop?" he asked me incredulously. "Because you and I are meant te be together, Catrìona. Ye and I both have lived a life scarcely worth livin' without each other more than enough already, and everra moment I lived without ye, I didnae want te live. Right now, at this verra moment, listenin' te ye tell me yer givin' up when we've only just come back together again, makes me want te jump over the side of this ship and hope I never take another breath again. How could ye question my love fer ye, Catrìona? I have loved ye unconditionally fer years , and I've never done anythin' te make ye question my love fer ye. So why are ye? Answer me that."
"Because I dinnae ken who the hell I am anymore! I ken fer a fact that I'm no' the same woman ye fell in love with, though!" I snapped back at him.
"Aye? And ye think I'm the same man ye fell in love with?" he asked me. "You are not givin' up on us, Catrìona. Ye arenae givin' up on me . I willnae allow it." He grasped me by my arms and forcibly kissed me, and a small part of me wanted to fight and pull away, but the vast majority of me was drawn into him and I didn't fight him; I melted into his kiss, the same way I had when he had kissed me for the very first time all those years ago. "Ye see tha'? Ye arenae ready te give up on us… No' with the way ye kissed me just now." I was completely breathless, but he didn't give me a chance to catch my breath as he kissed me again.
"What if ye change yer mind?" I asked him meekly.
"I willnae," he said firmly.
"Then what if we're separated again? What if somethin' else happens te separate us? Jamie, I cannae live without ye again," I told him with desperation as he tried to kiss me again.
"That willnae happen, now kiss me, damn it!" he growled at me, his voice full of lust.
"Ye cannae promise that! Ye cannae promise what ye dinnae ken, Jamie! What if… what if somethin' happens and ye die?" I asked, interrupting him again, and he froze, his face softening as he looked into my eyes. He brushed a tendril of hair, half brown and half red, out of my eye as he looked down into my eyes.
"Yer right, I cannae promise that," he said softly. "But so is life, which is why we must make everra moment count. We have lost so much time already, Catrìona. We shouldnae be wastin' another precious moment. We dinnae ken how much time we have left." Looking into his blue eyes, filled with every moment he had loved me in all of our years, whether we were together or apart, I realised that he was right. I had wasted so much time fearing that Jamie would stop loving me if he knew how much I'd changed, and I'd stopped living in the moment, embracing every ounce of his love that I could. I nodded subtly, feeling Jamie's thumb wipe away another tear that escaped from my eye.
"Yer right," I said quietly. "God, yer right. I've wasted so much damn time already… Oh, God, Jamie, I'm so sorry."
"Shh, dinnae be sorry, mo chridhe . We'll not waste another precious moment we have together," he told me, bending his head to kiss me again.
"I love ye so much, Jamie," I cried, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him again. The next few moments were a bit of a blur, as I was so overcome with lust, hunger and desire for this man that I loved more than anything in the world that I barely remembered returning to our cabin and being thrown against the bed. I could scarcely remember him throwing up my skirts and hearing the sound of his belt clanging against the floor as he pulled his breeks down to his ankles and entered me in one firm thrust. I held onto him tightly, crying out along with him and using every word I could utter to tell him I loved him, and then before I knew it, I was laying beside him on the bed, the two of us completely naked and our bodies entwined as we kissed each other lovingly. "I love ye so much," I whispered again to him.
"I love ye, too, my beloved," he told me as he kissed me again.
"Dinnae ever let me push ye away like that again. I mean it," I told him as I kissed him a third time.
"Ye'll not have the chance. The moment I feel ye pullin' away from me, I'll have ye on her back wi' yer arse in the air and my cock deep inside ye, remindin' ye that yer mine , and yer not goin' anywhere," he told me, taking my face in his hands and kissing me several times. We settled in, my head against his chest, and I felt his hand rest on my belly, a soft smile growing on his lips. "We're havin' a bairn…"
"Aye," I said a bit uneasily.
"This bairn will be our second chance," he told me. "We've never had the chance te raise a bairn together, not entirely. This bairn will be our chance te do just that."
"Aboot that," I said a bit meekly, picking up my head to look at him. "When I… had Maevis… I became verra sick. They had te… cut her out of me." I took his hand and led it to the scar that I had where Maevis had been cut out of me, and he ran his fingers over the slightly raised bump.
"Why?" he asked me.
"Because somethin' went wrong that would have otherwise killed me," I told him. "Because it happened once already - and given my age - it… probably isnae wise te… have another child." At this, he picked up his head to look at me, a strange look on his face.
"What are ye sayin'?" he asked me. "Do ye mean te… do away wi' my child?"
"It's my child, too," I told him. "Jamie, be reasonable. We just had this big talk aboot never leavin' each other and now, when I'm tellin' ye this could put my life at risk, ye dinnae want te hear it."
"Because yer speakin' of endin' a life that God created," he told me rather sternly, now sitting up.
"Actually, I havenae said anythin'," I told him equally sternly, also sitting up.
"But ye wanted te," he replied.
"Jamie, ye dinnae ken matters like this. We're on a ship and we dinnae ken fer how long. Somethin' could go wrong, I could get an infection or have another instance where I nearly bleed out and need te have the bairn cut out of me te save both of our lives. We have three children already. Do ye really want te risk my life fer another?" I asked him, and he scoffed, getting out of bed and going to the pile of clothes, picking out his breeks and pulling them on. "Jamie!"
"I'll not hear this," he told me, grabbing his shirt and pulling it on. "I will not hear of ye talk of wantin' te kill my child."
"Jamie, I never said I would do anythin'. I just want te make ye aware of my feelin's aboot this!" I said to him, also standing up, but he only scoffed.
"Ye want te ken how I feel aboot ye wantin' te kill my child? Angry is how I feel," he spat back at me, grabbing his boots and pulling those on as well.
"Where are ye goin'?" I asked him.
"Away from here," he said to me, pulling the second boot on and then stalking to the door. I grabbed my tartan and wrapped it around myself, then grabbed his arm as he opened the door.
"Jamie!" I cried out, but he yanked his arm away from me.
"Dinnae touch me!" he snapped, and then he left, slamming the cabin door behind him.
"Oh, Blessed fuckin' Bride," I cried, kicking the door with my bare foot and letting out a cry of pain. I collapsed onto the floor, where his coat still lay, and I buried my face into it and began to sob. God, how did something that was so simple manage to get so mucked up so fast?
