4 January, 1744

Le Havre, France

"So this is all ye'll tell me?" Murtagh demanded of the three of us as we stood on the docks beside the water. "Ye ken this is treason. This cloth of lies we're aboot te wrap ourselves in, like a plaid woven out of deception and guile…"

"We've told ye the reason fer our actions, mate. Te stop the Jacobite rebellion," said Cailean. "I'm afraid that's all we can tell ye."

"It sounds te me like ye dinnae trust me," said Murtagh, mostly to me, and he narrowed his eyes at me.

"It isnae that at all, Murtagh, I promise," I told him. "It's just that… er…"

"One day, I vow te tell ye the reason," Jamie told him firmly. "When the time is right, I'll tell ye everrathing that has happened and why, but fer now, ye must trust us. I have been assured that this rising is doomed te fail, so it must be stopped."

"And the reason behind this certainty remains verra carefully hid, and yer hiding that from me ," said Murtagh, eyeing Cailean and I curiously.

"Aye, that is so… but ye must trust us, Murtagh. Trust me . Someday, this shall all make sense," said Jamie to his godfather. Murtagh appeared to give in, then carefully nodded.

"If it werenae fer that oath I made ye when ye were a lad, I'd box yer ears until ye told me why we're committing such treason," he told his godson. "Have ye gotten word te yer cousin, then?"

"Aye, I sent off a letter this morning. No word yet…" Jamie told him. He and Murtagh walked a bit further down the dock, leaving Cailean and I behind.

"I wonder when the 'right time' will be," Cailean told me, watching the pair of them.

"Probably up to us, honestly," I said back. "We're the ones from the future, are we no'?"

"Aye, that we are," said Cailean. His eyes scanned the crowd of people that were gathered near the fishing market, where fishermen were selling their catches. "There's our ancestor again. What was his name again?"

"Alasdair Fowlis. Turns out, he's Eairdsidh Ruadh's nephew. Jamie said so," I said, glancing up to meet the cautious eyes of the fair-haired Alasdair Fowlis, who was watching us from the market.

"Does the man no' have anything better te do than watch us?" Cailean asked me.

"If we move onto Paris, he'll have te find a new hobby," I said, and we shared a small chuckle. "I'll be going back te the lads, they'll need te be fed soon. Keep me updated on Jamie and his cousin and come find me if he responds."

"Aye, I will," Cailean told me, and I left him standing there, Alasdair Fowlis's eyes following me as I walked.

9 January, 1744

"What the hell is that ?" Jamie was showing me a very ostentatious-looking frock that was bright yellow with a floral pattern in the style of robe a-la française.

"This is what the noble women of France are wearin', and ye are the wife of a Laird," Jamie replied.

"So ye like ye remind me," I told him. "Why are ye giving me this? Where did ye even get it?"

"We are meeting my cousin, Jared, today. Do ye no' remember? Ye must look yer best," Jamie told me. "Come, I'll help ye get into this."

"Ye will no'," I said defiantly. "Ye want te see yer cousin te tell him ye want te join the Jacobite rebellion and ye want te project yer wife as some wealthy French bimbo who is a misgrievanced Lady of a Scottish estate? Are ye mad?"

"I just want us te look presentable-"

"We should look disgruntled," I interrupted him. "We've been displaced because of the actions of the English. A young couple, parents te a set of newborn lads, who cannae return te their home because of the tyrannous actions of the King's men. Appearing wealthy and put together will do naught fer our plea." He let out a sigh and lowered the dress.

"Aye, I suppose I didnae think of that… Yer right," he said, tossing the dress over a chair. "At least put yerself together as best as ye can. This is my cousin, I want us te look our best, but within our means."

"And I will," I told him. "Did ye really think I would allow myself te look like a slob in front of yer cousin?" I ended up wearing the same dress I wore when we had left Scotland for France with my hair pinned up as nearly as my Celtic curls would allow. We left the lads in the care of Beth and brought Cailean along to meet with Jamie's cousin, Jared, who was a wine merchant in France.

"I admire yer patriotism fer sure, Jamie, lad, but I cannae help but wonder where this sudden change of heart emerged from," Jared said to his cousin, and then he looked at Cailean. "You say yer a Jacobite, lad? But I thought Fowlis of Barra was vehemently against another rebellion?"

"I'm no' my grandsire, sir, I cannae speak fer him, but I have good reason te support the Jacobite cause. My sister and I both," Cailean told Jared.

"Our family was killed by English soldiers some eight years ago," I chimed in. "Our mother and father, the rest of our younger brothers… I was fifteen, he was thirteen, and our remaining brothers were between the ages of thirteen and two." Jared's eyebrows raised.

"Two? As in, two years ?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Aye indeed. So ye see, we have no reason te support the English," I told him.

"If the English killed yer father, then they killed the son of the Laird of Cìosamul. Why is the Laird not onboard with the cause?" Jared asked us, and Cailean and I exchanged a glance.

"They were estranged," said Cailean.

"Truth te be told, we're not even sure our grandsire kens of our father's death. We had gone on the run, both of us, from the English, far from Barra," I told him.

"I see," said Jared, and then he looked at Jamie again. "And what aboot you , cousin?"

"My heart has ever been full of love fer my country, Jared," Jamie told his cousin.

"Aye, that may be so, but ye miss my meaning. We have kent each other fer quite some time. Ye've lived in my house, dined at my table… ye've lifted more than one glass with me at establishments far too disreputable te speak of in front of yer fair bride…"

"Dinnae dash on my account, cousin. I am a sturdy woman," I told him.

"Aye," Jared replied. "Nevertheless, in all of that time and in all of those interactions, I have never heard you once voice yer opinion on politics, Jamie."

"I was a young lad then, inexperienced. I didnae understand fully what had been done te me," Jamie told him.

"Te be kent as a Jacobite is a badge of honour here in France. We are supporters of the true faith against the heretic on the throne. But as we carry this badge of honour, we do have enemies as well. Enemies who would love te see us dance a jig on the gallows on the home soil. Only a few of us are called a brother te the cause, and they are the ones who possess the fires of righteousness burning in their hearts," Jared told him, and then he looked at Cailean. "Mr. Fowlis, I see the fires burning in yer heart. I express sympathy at the loss of yer family." He then looked at Jamie again. "Tell me now, cousin… What is the fire that burns within you?"

Jamie glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and I met his glance. "Show him," I said, and Jamie turned to look at me. I nodded, signifying that it would be all right, and then Jamie turned around with his back to Jared and pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing the horrible scars on his back.

"Courtesy of the English army," said Jamie, hearing Jared gasp at the sight, and then he turned to face his cousin. "Not te mention, my hand had been severely injured, and would have been crippled had my wife no' fixed it. In addition to my injuries, I escaped unrelentless torture and have now displaced myself, my wife and my two newborn bains."

"Newborn bairns?" Jared asked his cousin.

"Aye. Does any man need further reason te rise up against a king who would allow such atrocities te be committed in his name?" I asked Jared.

"No," Jared muttered. "No, the… the cause can only be strengthened by yer sword. I'm sorry I doubted ye, brother, and I am terribly sorry fer the displacement of your wee bairns."

"I thank ye," said Jamie, pulling his shirt back on. I helped him to pull it down while he continued the conversation, cradling the injured hand in his other. "Will ye help us, then?"

"What is it that you would wish me to do?" Jared asked him.

"We wish te meet the Jacobite leaders face te face, hear their plans and how they mean te carry them out," Jamie answered him, and Jared raised an eyebrow at this.

"And why should they wish te meet with ye? A wanted man with a price on his head, displaced with a young family, new te France with nothing to his name save the clothes on his back?" Jared asked him, and then he looked at Cailean. "And not te mention, a Fowlis of Barra with no physical connection to his clan."

"I am the heir to Cìosamul," Cailean answered him. "I am valuable te my grandsire. He may value my opinion."

"I should think the Stuarts would value the support of Laird Broch Tuarach and the Fraser clan," I chimed in.

"Aye," said Jamie. "We do hope te return in the future."

"I suppose those may be good reasons. Perhaps I will give it some thought, but in the meantime, Jamie, I have a proposal that I must ask you te consider."

"Aye? I'm listening," Jamie said to him.

"I've been delaying a trip te the Indies fer quite some time now - it's three months across the Atlantic, some time there of course, and then three months back. As you can see, that will be nearly a year away from my business. Wine merchantry is a very competitive business, so I would need someone competent and trustworthy enough to run the business in my absence," Jared explained to him. "As I recall, you have a fine head for figures."

"Aye, but I ken nothing aboot the wine business save fer drinkin'," Jamie told him.

"Then it is fortunate, brother, that I have quite a palate in tune fer wine," Cailean chimed in. I raised an eyebrow at him, which he returned.

"Is that so?" Jamie asked him, and then he turned his attention back to Jared. "Would my good brother be able te serve as my partner?"

"Aye, indeed he would. A fine taste fer wine is verra valuable in this business," Jared told him. "As my business is based primarily in Paris, I would give ye use of my home in Paris, as well as a share of the profits, say… thirty percent?" Jamie's lip curled up.

"Forty," he said, "and yer help. Remember, I'm a new father te two wee bairns." At this, Jared's lip curled up in a manner similar to Jamie's.

"Ye'll do fine," Jared told him. "I shall have a contract drafted up. Will you split the profits evenly?"

"I'll take fifteen and Jamie will take twenty-five," Cailean said quickly, and Jamie turned his head to look at him incredulously.

"Are ye mad, man?" he asked my brother.

"As ye've said, yer a new father te two wee bairns, and bonny bairns they are," Cailean said, addressing Jared. "I, on the other hand, am unmarried and in much less need of funds."

"Verra well," said Jared. "I will have my lawyer draft up a contract and it shall be ready in due time. I shall like to leave for the Indies in February, as that shall give me ample time to avoid the winter storms, and plan te return in October. Until then, you will have full use of my home and my staff, and hopefully, you may find arrangements for your family. You say you wish to someday return to Scotland?"

"Hopefully soon. Jamie did send a petition te London in hopes of being granted a pardon," I told Jared, and I heard Jamie clear his throat.

"Aye, aboot tha'…" he said, and I cocked an eyebrow. "The Duke of Sandringham didnae pass on the petition of complaint te London. It ended up straight in the hands of Randall himself." My eyes widened and my stomach dropped only a little before the fires of fury began to overtake me.

"That conniving bastard ," I hissed.

"Goodness," said Jared, reminding me where I was.

"Forgive me," I said, "but surely, ye can understand my feelings, Jared. I've been removed from my home, forced on the run with two small bairns I had te deliver while on the run, needless te say, I am furious that home and safety have been threatened by this man."

"I see," said Jared. "I shall return to Paris in aboot a week's time, I do hope that you will join me there, cousin. I will do my best te arrange fer a meeting between you and the Jacobite leaders."

"I thank ye, cousin, and I would be grateful," Jamie told him. We were truly grateful indeed for the chance to have a safe and secure home and food in our bellies. Had it just been the two of us, we could have managed anything, but it wasn't. We had two bairns that were relying on us, and one of them wasn't well.

The following day, both Jamie and Cailean were summoned back to Jared's warehouse to examine the wine stock, so that left Beth and me in the inn together with two screaming, colicky lads. "There must be something we can give them!" Beth was saying as she cradled a screaming Brian in her arms.

"There is, but I dinnae have much. I'd have te find an apothecary te replenish my stores," I told her as I cradled a screaming Archie in my arms. "I ken of a tea my mother used te make fer the bairns of Barra, she called it a colic tea. Blessed Bride, what was in it…" I paused for a moment in thought, trying to recall the full list of herbs. "Chamomile fer calming, vervain fer abdominal upset… fennel fer inflammation, licorice fer… fer… ah, yes, indigestion, and… lemon balm, fer the stress. Yes, that was it."

"Will that cure the ague?" asked young Beth.

"Aye, it should. Although it's not an ague, it's a simple upset of their wee tums. It happens a lot in bairns," I told her, and I stood to put Archie down in his cot. "Are ye all right on yer own? I hate te leave ye with two colicky bairns."

"I'll be all right, ma'am. I thank ye, but if I ken yer out getting yer herbs te cure them, then I'll be all right," said Beth.

"Yer such a dear, I thank ye deeply, a leannan . I'll be back as soon as I can," I told her. I then pulled on my cloak and grabbed both my basket and coin purse, then left the inn in search of the apothecary. As I was walking down the dock, I soon found myself in the unwanted company of Alasdair Fowlis, who approached me yet again.

"Good day to ye, Mistress. I've had a thought-" he began, but I cut him off.

"I dinnae have time fer yer doubt in my name and family, sir. I've got two bairns screaming their wee heads off with stomach discomfort and I'm in search of the apothecary. If ye could direct me towards one if ye ken it, I would be grateful," I told him shortly, seemingly taking him aback.

"Er… Rue Clemenceau," said Alasdair Fowlis. "I can take ye there myself."

"If yer goin' te question me further, then I would prefer te be without yer company as I need te concentrate, but I thank ye fer yer help, Mr. Fowlis," I told the man, hurrying off in the direction of Rue Clemenceau. Sure enough, the apothecary was there, and he was out of lemon balm, but did have lavender, which would suit the lads just fine. I paid for my purchase and went back on my way to the inn, finding my pathway blocked by a new crowd that had formed near the gangway of a ship. They were shouting obscenities in French and were clearly upset, so I squeezed my way through the crowd just in time to see a man being carried on a stretcher down the gangway, his skin appearing pocked and inflamed.

" C'est la petite vérole! " shouted one man in a panicked tone. It's the smallpox. This declaration induced a cry of panic as people began to back away from not just one, but two men who were being carried down the gangway into a nearby warehouse.

" Déplace-toi sur le côte! Je suis un guérisseur! " I called as the crowd shoved into me. Move aside! I am a healer! " Je suis un guérisseur! " People began to clear a path for me to shove my way through and I raced to the warehouse, where the two men were being held. "I can help, I am a healer," I said in French to the men who had accompanied the two ill sailors.

"We should call a doctor instead. What does a woman know of the pox?" said one of the men to another, and I rolled my eyes.

"More than you think," I answered.

"Move, brutes! What is the meaning of this?" exclaimed a furious-sounding voice in French.

"Sir, you must stay back," one of the other men answered him.

"I am the Comte Saint Germain and this is my ship!" said the angry voice behind me while I examined the two sailors. They had high fevers and several pus-filled blisters; it was obvious what their diagnosis was. I glanced up at another nearby man who was watching me.

"It is definitely smallpox," I told him, and then I turned to the man who must have been the harbourmaster. "You must quarantine the city."

" Va au diable! " said the Comte Saint Germain. "This woman clearly does not know what she is talking about."

"Catrìona!" called a more familiar voice. " Déplace-toi sir le côte! Catrìona!" The crowd was shoved aside and Jamie appeared with Cailean and, surprisingly, Alasdair Fowlis at his side.

"I told ye I saw her come this way," said Alasdair Fowlis to Cailean.

"So it seems. Thank ye, a charaid, " Cailean told him, essentially dismissing the man.

"No, stay back!" I told Jamie in English. "Trust me when I say that I cannae get this!"

"This woman is incorrect. Call in a doctor, he will tell you it is not so!" said the Comte Saint Germain in French, sending me a very dirty look.

"Even if it is so, Le Comte , the lady has spoken, and word has already spread. I am sorry, but you know what must be done," the harbourmaster answered him, and the Comte sent a glare at me.

"You lying-" he began, but Jamie was quick to cut him off.

"Do not finish that sentence or you will find your tongue at your feet," he threatened the man in French, who simply glared at him. "You will not speak to my wife that way."

"Your wife has just cost me my shipment," the Comte answered him. While they were bickering, I noticed that the man before me had just passed away, and felt anger surge through me at this Comte's lack of care for his life and the lives of others.

"Better the cost of your shipment than the cost of innocent lives," I said to him maliciously as I stood, and Jamie turned his head to look at me, as if to say 'stop it right now'.

"Mark my words," said the Comte. "You will regret this. Le Comte will not forget what has happened here today."

"Speaking in third person, this must be a serious threat," I said to him, my dagger-like gaze boring into his. "I have done nothing more than state the truth, and evidently, saved countless lives from your selfishness." The Comte narrowed his eyes at me.

"You have made an enemy here today, woman," said the Comte venomously.

"Another day, another enemy. And that is Madame Fraser to you," I told him.

"Catrìona!" Jamie hissed at me, but I continued my dangerous glare at the Comte. "Come, there is nothing more fer us te do here." Not taking my gaze off of the Comte, I let Jamie drag me away from the scene and towards the inn. "You need te learn te control yer mouth."

"Are ye sayin' I should have just let them spread smallpox to the rest of the town? The same town where yer newborn lads currently reside?" I demanded of him.

"Of course no', but what ye didnae have te do was provoke the Comte Saint Germain, he is Jared's competition, ye ken. Another wine merchant," Jamie told me a bit more calmly.

"I've no trouble provoking a man who doesnae keep the health of others in mind," I said to my husband. "So what if I've made another enemy? I dinnae care. One enemy fer the lives of countless people as well as the secured safety of my sons is worth the exchange."

"Life is certainly never dull with you in it, mo nighean ruadh ," Jamie said with clear amusement, but I wasn't amused at all.

"I shall endeavour te be more dull, if that would suit ye better, then," I told him, but he only chuckled.

"Nah," he said. "I wouldnae change ye even if the world depended on it." He then pulled me into his arms to kiss the top of my head. "Come, let's get back te see our laddies."

"What'll they do te Saint Germain's ship?" I asked him, hooking my hand into the crook of his arm as he led me back to the inn.

"Burn it," Jamie told me. "They cannae risk sending infected cargo into the city. It's the laws of France."

"It's too bad they dinnae ken how germs work," I told him. "They could just leave it sitting fer a few weeks' time and the virus will have died off on its own."

"As ye've said, this time doesnae ken how these… wee beasties… work," Jamie answered me.

"I cannae wait te go te Paris," I told him. "Away from this, a constant risk of an illness coming in from another port… Our lads will be safe, there will be better medical care fer Brian, no Comte Saint Germain…"

"Oh, I'm certain this willnae be the last we see of him, mo nighean. We must keep our eyes on him. I dinnae trust him not te try te harm ye," Jamie told me.

"Well, let him try," I said, stopping us at the door of the inn and turning to him. "If Randall couldnae kill me, I doubt some stuck up French wine merchant could." At this, Jamie chuckled, and he bent to kiss me.

"Aye, yer a strong lass indeed," he said, and then he led me into the inn.

That night, the glow of the fire on the harbour lit up the room enough that we didn't need many candles. Saint Germain's ship was ablaze, his infected cargo up in flames like the fires of hell. It seemed like no matter where Jamie and I went, trouble always followed us. Hopefully, trouble stayed in Le Havre and kept well away from Paris.