Featured Gaelic and Pronunciations:

- A-mach leis (ah mahk leysh) - Away with it

- A dhia (ah yee-ah) - oh God

- Dearg-due (dah-ruhg doo-ah) - red bloodsucker/Irish vampire*

*This is actually the Irish Gaelic (pronounced gay-lick - different from Scottish gah-lick) term and pronunciation. This wasn't particularly something that had a word in Scotland but it's likely they would have referred to it by the same name. In Scottish Gaelic, 'dearg' is the word for 'red' and is pronounced 'jehr-rahg'.

16 May, 1744

Jared's House, Paris, France

Beth was in and out of illness, sometimes getting better and able to leave the house for a bit of air, but she was tired relatively consistently. The longer her illness went on, the more worried I became, and I forced her to wear a cloth mask over her face to keep from infecting anyone, as I did as well when I went in to examine her. Palpating her abdomen, I could feel that her spleen and liver were both a little enlarged, but didn't seem to be causing her pain, and she had visibly swollen lymph nodes in her throat. It was hard to tell exactly what illness it was that she had, but I suspected it was some sort of Epstein-Barr virus, possibly glandular fever. Unfortunately, there was nothing much I could do for her except to treat her with herbs that would reduce inflammation, could boost the immune system, or were thought to have antiviral properties in my time, and prescribe plenty of rest to prevent splenic rupture. If her spleen ruptured, there was nothing that I could do, and she would die.

Another culprit could be typhoid, as early on in her illness, she had developed a rash, but it has faded. Once, it started to come back, but I rubbed a salve on her chest to try and stave it off, thankfully successfully. She did have some vomiting and a bit of constipation as well, which hinted that she may have had typhoid instead of Epstein-Barr, but either way, there was no diagnosis for either disease in this time. Both illnesses were identified in the late nineteenth century and refined in the twentieth, and there was no treatment save rest and herbs for either illness.

After examining Beth for the day, I returned to a spare room I had set aside for washing up after being exposed so that I wouldn't infect anyone else with the illness. I bathed in hot water, then wiped myself down with alcohol to ensure sterilisation before leaving the room. Once I was clean, I went to check on the lads, whom I expected to be watched by the nanny we had hired to take over for Beth while she recovered, but was surprised to find Jamie in the room holding Brian in his arms. "Everrathing all right?" I asked him, taking note of his worried expression.

"He doesnae look well. Worse than usual," Jamie told me. Poor Brian, indeed, was paler than usual, a little warm, coughing uncontrollably and was wheezing just a little. I took him into my arms to examine his mouth and lips, finding that he was dehydrated despite being fed not all that long ago.

"I see what ye mean," I said. "I was asked te go te L'Hôpital this mornin', so I can take him te be examined by another set of eyes. I dinnae ken if they'll be able te shed any more light than I have, but at least I can say I tried."

"We're goin' te lose him… aren't we?" Jamie asked me. When he asked the question, his tone became increasingly less worried and more certain over time. It was obvious that Brian was past the point of no return, and it was only a matter of time now. Had he lived in the twenty-first century, he would have been able to be treated, but we weren't in the twenty-first century. Brian's lengthy illness was the only reason I regretted not going through the stones when Jamie brought me to Craigh Na Dun last September, but at that point, I hadn't even known I was expecting more than one baby. I let out a sigh, gently brushing back a thinning gingery curl on Brian's wee head.

"I think so," I said with a hopeless tone. "I'll get him ready te go. Do ye have te see Charles today?"

"I'll send word that my son is ill and cannae go," Jamie told me. "I'll stay here, wait fer ye te return with an answer."

"Ye dinnae have te do that. Waitin' will only drive ye mad," I said to him.

"Dinnae fash, mo nighean , I have plenty of work findin' a buyer fer Saint Germain's wine," he told me, a playful look in his eye.

"Remind me that we need te discuss the plan with Murtagh. If he's te meet the ship in Portugal and secure passage, he needs te leave soon," I said.

"I'll speak te him," Jamie told me, bending down to kiss my cheek, and then he bent even lower to kiss Brian's pale head. "Take care, mo ghille . Yer Mam will take care of ye." His mother would do her best to take care of him, but she was almost certain that that just wasn't possible at this point.

L'Hôpital des Anges, Paris, France

When I arrived at the hospital, there was a volunteer who offered to examine him for me, so while I allowed the new nanny to wait for him, I went to see where I could be useful. If I didn't do something while I waited for Brian's examination, I would go mad with worry, so I sought out Mother Hildegard, but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead, I saw Monsieur Forez on the far side of the hospital, and though he gave me the creeps a bit, I approached him to see what it was he was working on. As I approached, I saw that, unfortunately, the patient he was working on had passed away, and Monsieur Forez had a jug of a very pungent fume - embalming fluid. " Bonjour, Monsieur Forez, " I said, announcing my presence, and Monsieur Forez's beady eyes raised to look at me.

" Bonjour, Madame Fraser, " he said to me, and then spoke in English. "I wonder if you would be so kind as to help me prepare this man for burial?"

"Certainly," I said, watching carefully as Monsieur Forez demonstrated how to embalm the body. One thing I never thought I'd be doing was embalming a dead body, but it was fascinating to learn.

"Excellent. I shall watch you first, and then I must depart," said Monsieur Forez, moving aside so I could take over.

"Goin' somewhere, are ye?" I asked, attempting to make conversation.

"I have been summoned by His Majesty to perform my usual duties," Monsieur Forez replied.

"Ah, I see," I said. "I meant te ask what draws an executioner to a hospital."

"Taking the life of a criminal is not as rewarding as saving the life of an upstanding citizen," Monsieur Forez replied, directing me to the femoral artery.

"Fair enough," I said. "What crime is this man bein' executed fer?"

"It is said to be several persons," said Monsieur Forez, moving to the other side of the body and glancing up to meet my eyes. "Practitioners of the dark arts, and all those who are associated with them." His tone sounded like a warning, so I stopped what I was doing and raised my eyes to his.

"Aye," I said. "When is this te happen?"

"Hard to say. Once they are gathered, I suppose," Monsieur Forez replied. "I thought, perhaps, they should be hanged. It is a reasonable punishment for the act, but the King's pleasure is to have them drawn and quartered, so I must be at the ready, hmm?"

"Drawn and quartered," I repeated, glancing down at the intact dead body below me.

"Many a great Scottish warrior met such a fate, I am told," said Monsieur Forez. "Any family?"

"Possibly. I dinnae ken fer sure," I said. "I wouldnae say 'pleasure' would be the word that comes te mind, though. The King's pleasure, or inhumanity?" Monsieur Forez chuckled gently.

"Make no mistake, Madame Fraser, to choke a man to his death at the end of a rope, anyone can do this. But to properly execute the sentence of drawing and quartering… That requires great skill," said Monsieur Forez.

"I imagine so," I replied. "Certainly an excellent knowledge of anatomy, of which ye certainly have. How each of the bones in the limbs articulate, what tendons and muscles attach te each bone. How to dislocate each joint te make fer a clean cut… I imagine ye ken quite a bit aboot tha'."

"You are exquisitely observant," answered Monsieur Forez. "First, the man - or woman - must be hanged, but with judgement, so that the neck is not broken. As death approaches, you must… cut into the chest cavity, reach in and grasp the still beating heart."

"I imagine ye must figure out a way te cut the superior vena cava, aorta, pulmonary and coronary arteries at the right moment," I told him, indicating that I would not be threatened by his talk of execution.

"Indeed," said Monsieur Forez with pride. "You, too, are knowledgeable in anatomy. Yes, that is the main difficulty. Severing of the large vessels must be done quickly so that the organ may be pulled forth while still beating."

"Te please the crowd, I'm sure, but then yer victim is dead," I said to him.

"Yes, the rest is mere butchery. Once the life is extinct, there is not much need for particular skill. As you said, to disarticulate the limbs is next, making for a clean removal," said Monsieur Forez. "I am surprised I have not made you pale with this tedious conversation, but you do appear a little green."

"No fault of yers, I've been experiencin' a bit of nausea lately," I explained. I had been spotting a bit of blood for quite some time now, which was no surprise. I had been very stressed, which likely impacted how my period would come. The nausea had been quite persistent, and frankly, it was getting annoying.

"Perhaps you should pay a visit to our friend, Master Raymond," said Monsieur Forez, raising his pencil-thin eyebrows. I realised then that it wasn't me that he was threatening - in fact, he wasn't threatening at all - he was warning me. The look in his eyes said all that went unspoken between us: 'Warn him. Tell him to flee.' I nodded subtly, then glanced back down at the body before us.

"Perhaps," I said. "When Monsieur Lafayette has finished examinin' my son. We should finish with this puir lad." Apparently, I had earned the respect, and friendship, of the mysterious Monsieur Forez, and for that, I was grateful. It certainly helped having the King's executioner on your side.

Master Raymond's Apothecary, Paris, France

As soon as Brian was finished being examined, I bundled him up tightly and brought him with me as I rushed to Master Raymond's. "So what's the diagnosis?" I asked Monsieur Lafayette, who seemed rather dismissive.

"Failure to thrive," he replied in French. 'Failure to thrive' was a common phrase for 'I don't know what's wrong with your child'.

"'Failure to thrive'? That is not a diagnosis, that is giving up!" I spat at him. "Call yerself an expert on infants and dinnae ken anythin' aboot them," I said in English, seemingly confusing Monsieur Lafayette, but I didn't care, I needed to get to Master Raymond, and thankfully did so quickly. With Brian nestled tightly in my arms, I pushed through the door, setting off the bell, and Master Raymond popped up from behind the counter. "Ah, Madonna! I did not expect to see you today! I do have those herbs that you requested-"

"I thank ye kindly, but there is no time," I said. "Ye need te leave the city at once."

"Whatever for?" Master Raymond asked me, then taking notice of the bundle in my arms. "And who is this? One of your sons?"

"Yes, this is Brian," I said, patting the sleeping Brian's head lightly. "Ye need te leave because the King is goin' on a crusade te weed out practitioners of the dark arts from Paris, and ye ken ye have a reputation."

"Yes, yes. This has happened before. It is no concern! King Louis's great grandfather, Louis XIV, did much the same decades ago! Plucking heretics from the city, as one might say, 'weeding the garden'." said Master Raymond dismissively. "'Twas a veiled manifestation of his piety. Soon afterwards, they were all freed, a mere renunciation of Satan as penance. Now come, I have your package prepared-"

"I'm afraid this time now is different," I said. "It seems tha' the King is out fer blood this time rather than a few rounds of the Hail Mary. I understand ye ken Monsieur Forez. He was warnin' me, confidin' that he's preparin' fer multiple executions. He didnae even mention anythin' aboot imprisonment. Yer in danger, Master Raymond, and as yer friend, I've come te warn ye."

"If it is as you say, Madonna, then you should not have come here! You have put yourself at grave risk, but I am deeply touched by your concern for my welfare," said Master Raymond. He gathered up a package and approached me, placing it into my hands and lightly touching Brian's head, giving me a friendly smile. "Take this. I shall heed your warning and flee the city at once."

"I'm glad te hear it," I said. "I can disguise my comin' here easily by sayin' I've come fer herbs fer my sick lad. There are many who already ken I do. Be well, won't ye?"

"Do not worry, Madonna. No matter how often one removes the weeds, they have a habit of reappearing," said Master Raymond with amusement, covering my hand that held the packages with his. "We shall meet again, Madonna, in this life or another."

"I do hope so," I said. I gave him as friendly a smile as I could muster, though it was hard to completely mask my concern. I had come to care deeply for Master Raymond as a friend, and now I would be losing him, losing the only like-minded person I had ever had the privilege to meet in this time. I wished him luck one final time, and with both my son and the package of herbs needed to recreate smallpox in hand, I left, hoping to find the apothecary empty soon.

18 May, 1744

Jared's House, Paris, France

"Why the hell are we tryin' te fake smallpox?" Murtagh demanded as I crushed up the wild parsnip flowers into a mortar.

"Because the financiers are waitin' te see if the prince's wine venture is successful," Jamie said. Fergus was standing nearby watching me very carefully, then tried to stick his hand into the mortar to touch the powder, which I smacked away.

" A-mach leis, " I snapped, surprising him a little. "Do ye want te have burns on yer fingers?" Fergus meekly shook his head and stepped away from the mortar as I finished grinding it up.

"So we have te fake smallpox?" Murtagh asked as I poured the powder into a small vial.

"If the wine venture works, Charles's financiers will be linin' up te lend money te the Jacobite cause," I said. " That is where the smallpox comes in. Remember when Saint Germain's ship came in carrying the disease and it had te be burned upon discovery?"

"We'll get the harbour master at Le Havre te destroy Saint Germain's ship and inventory," Jamie continued. "Charles will lose his wine and investment…"

"And he'll go runnin' back te Rome with his tail between his legs," I finished.

" Or , we can slit the Italian fop's throat and be done with it," said Murtagh bitterly.

"I thought we've been over this. Killin' Charles Stuart will make him a martyr and bring a spark te the rebellion we're tryin' te avoid," I said, turning around and crossing my arms across my chest. "Now, te go over what we have. Fergus, are ye payin' attention?" Wee Fergus was looking at the powders in the viles that I had made up.

" Oui, Milady!" he said, snapping back up to attention.

"Right. The lobelia tincture is a high dose and will cause vomiting and diarrhoea, but no' high enough te kill, so dinnae fash. Take a wee sip of it. There's a small bit of bitter cascara in there te set off stomach pains and mimic the internal symptoms of smallpox. As fer the pox themselves…" I picked up the vial of wild parsley powder. "This here is wild parsley, it is quite poisonous. Ye'll no' ingest it, ye'll apply it topically. I'll turn it into a salve fer ye te rub on yer chest, neck, arms and face so it'll mimic the visible symptoms of the disease, but ye must apply it before ye board the ship. It'll take a few days fer the boils te show and when they do, tha's when ye'll take the lobelia and bitter cascara tincture."

"How quickly will it work?" asked Cailean, who was leaning against the window watching me.

"Hard te say. We'll need te test it out," I said, glancing at Jamie. He nodded subtly, then took the very small cup of lobelia and bitter cascara tincture, lifting it slightly in the air.

" Slàinte mhath, " he said, tipping it back and swallowing it.

"I've also got a bit of crushed nettle powder. I'll make a salve of tha', too, and that should cause a bit of a rash, if ye notice the redness from the wild parsnips isnae enough," I said.

"I dinnae feel anythin," Jamie said childishly.

"Ye will in a minute," I said, standing by, and as if on cue, Jamie suddenly doubled over with a groan. "And there it is. Quick onset."

"We should try and get some of it into the wines. We can crack some open, cannae sell damaged product, and the men will likely no' let it go to waste," Cailean chimed in.

"Clever, but it'll have te be put in verra shortly before the ship arrives in Le Havre, so ye should be there by the fifth," I said as Jamie loudly moaned. "We'll be in fer an interestin' night."

" A dhia, " Jamie growled, jumping up and running out of the room.

"Tha's goin' te happen te me ?" Murtagh exclaimed as he watched his godson flee from the room.

"Aye, it will," I said.

"Why cannae this clotheid go?" Murtagh demanded, referring to Cailean.

"Because people actually like me," Cailean replied, and I stifled a snort.

"Well, people ken Cailean's face more than yers, Murtagh. His presence will be missed, yers willnae," I said. "There are equal cons te the pros of bein' a shadow. I'll have te add some rose madder te the tincture that we add to the wine. It should be added on both the ship and at port te imply infection. The rose madder will produce blood in the urine, and I believe tha's all the symptoms we can mimic safely," I added.

"And fer my next trick, I give you… smallpox," Cailean said with amusement.

"Masquerade and games," said Murtagh bitterly. "What's next? A rousin' game of charades?"

"You know, the ladies at Maison Elise's, they play charades without any clothes for the clients," said a giggling Fergus, and Murtagh glared at him.

" Ist , ye wee bawbag," Murtagh growled at him, and he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

"What did I say?" Fergus asked, genuinely curious.

"Dinnae fash, a ghille , he's simply pissed because he's the guinea pig," Cailean told him.

"What is this kind of pig?" asked Fergus. I let out a heavy sigh.

"He's quite upset… I dinnae blame him. He doesnae understand our reasonin' fer preventin' a rebellion he thinks would free Scotland," I said, and then I looked at Cailean. "I think we have te tell him."

"Well, I sure as hell dinnae want te be the one te give him that news!" Cailean exclaimed.

"I'll make Jamie some marshmallow leaf and ginger tea and see aboot askin' him te explain," I said, and then I looked at Fergus. "Dinnae touch a thing , or ye'll be joinin' Murtagh on that ship." Fergus's eyes widened and he nodded quickly, and I left the two of them alone in the study while I went to fetch herbs for Jamie.

19 May, 1744

Jamie, unfortunately, was still feeling unwell, so I left him with a kiss on his forehead and a steaming cup of marshmallow leaf tea and went in search of Murtagh. He was in the study looking over some more letters that Fergus had stolen recently when I found him, and I cleared my throat to draw his attention. "Mind if we have a chat?" I asked him, and he raised an eyebrow at me. "Ye've been askin' questions that no one's givin' ye answers te. I thought it time te give ye some."

"I'm listenin'," said Murtagh, setting the letter down and crossing his arms across his chest.

"Not here. This news… isnae fer delicate ears," I said. "The courtyard?"

"Hmph," Murtagh replied, and he stood and followed me down to the courtyard, which led out to where the horses were kept. I paused in thought to try and gather them together, but everything I thought of just sounded ridiculous, so I let out a sigh and decided to just rip the bandage off.

"Right," I began. "So… We're doin' this because we want te stop the rebellion tha's te come. Ye ken that already."

"Aye," said Murtagh.

"And I'm guessin' one of yer questions is… how we ken that rebellion is comin'," I said. "The answer's quite simple, actually, but givin' it… It'll sound mad."

"More mad than what ye've been sayin' all these months?" Murtagh asked me. "Get on with it, lass!"

"Ye want a rushed answer? Fine, I'll give it to ye, quick and simple. I ken there's a rebellion comin' because… because I'm from a time where the rebellion has already happened," I said, and Murtagh's steel expression seemed frozen as he processed what I'd said. "Actually, I… I'm from a time where… the rebellion - the '45, as we call it - happened… four hundred years in the past. And we want te stop it because thousands of Scots will suffer, die, or both, even years after the uprisin'." At this, Murtagh's eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. "It all started when I was fightin' in my own rebellion. In my time, Scotland has rebelled against England and is fightin' fer freedom. I'm a medic on the battlefield, which is where I get all of my medical knowledge from. When we met… I had only just gone through the stones."

"S-stones?" Murtagh squeaked out, and I nodded. "Ye mean…"

"Craigh Na Dun, aye," I answered. "I was fightin' in the Second Battle of Culloden, in the year… 2138. Emphasis on 'second' - the first was in the sixteenth of April, 1746."

"2138," Murtagh repeated.

"Yes. I was the same age in my time as I am now. Well, when I came through… I was twenty-two. I was born in 2116, not… 1721," I told him. Murtagh was silent after that, staring at me as if I had a second head growing out of my neck. "I ken it sounds mad, but it's the truth. Cailean, too, comes from the future. He travelled two years before me, also on accident. Jamie kens, too, and he's verra supportive still. He… he didnae think ye would understand, it is a bit of a strange thing te hear-" Suddenly, he held a hand up to stop me, but his eyes wouldn't meet mine.

"I… need a minute," he said, and I nodded, watching as he turned and went back into the house. I let out a sigh - I should have just left it alone. I should have let Jamie explain, or I should have listened to him when he said that Murtagh wouldn't understand. I sat down on the stone steps of the courtyard, burying my head in my knees. Blessed Bride, this was giving me such a headache!

Some time later, perhaps an hour or so, I heard the sound of footsteps and rustling paper, and when I looked up, I was surprised to see Murtagh standing up behind me holding a piece of parchment. He then sat down on the steps beside me, revealing that the paper had the dates 2116, 2117, 2118, and so on until 2138 scrawled in Murtagh's messy handwriting. "So," he said. "Ye… Ye lived through all these years that have yet te come."

"Yup," I answered.

"Four hundred years into the future," said Murtagh.

"Four hundred years," I repeated. I then looked at his parchment and pointed to the year 2116. "I was born this year, on the first of February. Nearly twenty years before that, there was what we call the First Scottish Rebellion, also called the Scottish War of 2098. My father fought in it. He was a commandin' officer, led the Battle of Dunblane, defended Stirling… That war ended in the year 2100 as an English victory under King Edward IX - aye, always an Edward. Da was imprisoned, as all Scottish rebels were, but was released in 2115. My mother was a nurse - a healer, if ye will - who tended to him when he was wounded at Dunblane. She remained loyal te him fer all those years, and they married as soon as he was released, and I came along nine months later."

"A rebellion," Murtagh repeated, looking at the paper, and I pointed to the year 2118.

"Cailean was born in this year," I said, and then I pointed to the year 2131. "This… This was the year the English killed my family. All but me and Cailean. It was the same year we joined the rebellion… I was fifteen, Cailean was thirteen. We had no place te go but the rebellion. They were killed by Jack Randall's descendant, Richard Randall." I pointed to the year 2135. "This was the year I led the Battle of Bloody Bush near the borders. Our commandin' officers were killed or wounded, and we had no one else. I bein' a field medic had an advantage that others didnae have by bein' constantly connected te the commandin' officer, so I kent their plans. But when they died… it was up te me, and I dinnae ken how even te this day, but I led us te victory." I pointed to the year 2136. "This was the year I led a successful Siege of Berwick."

"Ye seized Berwick?" Murtagh asked me, and I nodded.

"Indeed I did. First time it's been done since the fifteenth century. There had been another attempt in the first rebellion, but it didnae succeed. I was promoted te Captain. I was a commandin' officer, also a medic trainin' te be a doctor," I explained.

"A commandin' officer," Murtagh repeated. "No wonder yer so bossy." I couldn't help but laugh.

"Perhaps a bit," I said.

"So. Ye ken what happens te the Jacobites," Murtagh continued.

"Yes," I replied. "I ken when the rising begins, and I ken how it ends as well."

"And it doesnae end well," said Murtagh, judging the outcome from the expression on my face, and I shook my head. "Ye ken the dates… When things will happen, when people will die."

"Not aboot you, or Jamie, or any of us, really. I have a vague idea of what Cailean might be doin', but I dinnae ken fer sure," I said.

"Wait," said Murtagh. "This means the Laird of Cìosamul isnae yer grandsire?"

"Funny ye mention that, but that is a whole different can of worms I dinnae want te open right now," I said, and Murtagh raised an eyebrow.

"This explains so many of the strange things ye say," he said. "I dinnae ken if I would want te bear the burden of kennin' what's te come." At this, I let out a sigh.

"I dinnae, either," I said to him.

"Does this mean yer a witch?" Murtagh asked suddenly, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Goodness, no! I'm no more a witch than you are! I just sort of… fell through time, the way one might fall through a doorway," I said.

"Ye could have trusted me with this information since the beginnin'," said Murtagh, and I let out a scoff.

"My first impression of ye was that ye didnae like conversation and ye hated everrathing and everraone around ye," I said to him. "But I'm glad I can trust ye."

"Now I've somethin' else te hold over yer brother's head," said Murtagh, and I laughed again.

"Oh, I'm glad of it," I said. Telling Murtagh was much easier than I thought it would be. I'd have to ask Jamie what on Earth he was so worried about later.

2 June, 1744

Murtagh had been gone for nearly two weeks now, having gone to Portugal to secure passage onto Saint Germain's ship. It should have left already with him on it, which meant that Jamie and Fergus needed to go to Le Havre to prepare for the ship's arrival. Jamie was in the nursery saying goodbye to the lads while I was helping Fergus get situated on his horse. Jamie joined us shortly, giving his own horse a pat. "Remember," I said. "Tincture in the wine, parsley powder in their coats. Dinnae let Fergus touch the powder."

"I willnae," Jamie told me, pulling me into his arms and ducking his head so he could kiss me.

"Be careful," I told him, one of my hands brushing a red curl out of his face, and he gave me a gentle smile.

"I will," he replied.

"Ye always say that. Mean it this time, won't ye?" I asked, and then I looked at Fergus. "And you , make sure he doesnae get into any trouble."

"I will, Milady," said Fergus to me.

"Take care of each other," I said to the both of them. I kissed Jamie one more time, then stepped back to allow him to climb up into his horse.

"We should be back in two days. Cailean kens what te tell Charles, so ye dinnae have te worry aboot him," Jamie said. He bent down from the horse to kiss me one final time. "I love ye, mo nighean . Take care of the lads."

"I will. I love ye, too," I said. I stepped back again, then watched as both Fergus and Jamie rode off. I prayed to whoever was listening that this plan worked, because if it backfired, who knew what could happen?

4 June, 1744

It was a hot day, or at least it felt hot. I was sweating constantly and hay fever was running rampant. I was haunted by the foul, choking feeling of a post-nasal drip that wouldn't clear for anything and my throat was a little sore, but it was only allergies, after all. Jamie was due back at any moment and I didn't want to sound all congested and nasty when he did, but that meant clearing my sinuses every five minutes and going through a handkerchief every half hour.

I heard voices in the courtyard, and I was quick to rush outside to greet the source. "Jamie!" I exclaimed as the man himself leapt down from his horse and caught me as I launched myself into his arms. "I missed ye so much!"

"I missed ye, too, mo ghràidh ," he said through chuckles, setting me back down on my feet and kissing my forehead. Suddenly, his smile faded and he eyed me curiously, then raised a hand to touch my face. "Christ, woman, yer as hot as the fires of Hell."

"Thank ye verra much," I said, confusing him even more. "It's just a bit warm, but I'll be fine."

"Out of doors, it isnae as warm as ye think. Come inside, I want ye tucked into bed," he told me, taking me by the arm and leading me back inside.

"Jamie, I'm fine," I told him. "I could just be havin' a hormonal fluctuation."

"I dinnae ken what that means, but I cannae help but te be concerned. Ye spend yer days at a hospital fer the sick and wounded only te come home te tend to a sick lass," Jamie replied as we got to our bedchamber. "Come, out of this dress."

"If ye wanted te take me te bed, ye could've asked," I said, teasing him, but he evidently wasn't in a teasing mood as he pulled at the laces that kept my dress closed.

"I'll always want te take ye te bed, but not while yer boilin' with fever," he said as he freed me from the constraints of the dress.

"I dinnae think it's a fever, and if it is, it's mild. Probably hay fever," I told him.

"As ye say, rest is best," Jamie replied as he started on the laces of my corset.

"How'd everrathing go?" I asked him, watching him undo the laces.

"I didnae linger te find out," he replied. "The ship willnae arrive fer a few days yet."

"Hopefully, everrathing with Murtagh is goin' accordin' te the plan. Charles cannae get his hands on that money," I told him, watching as he stripped me of everything but my shift.

"Dinnae fash, mo nighean ruadh , if anyone can deliver pestilence and disease, it's us," he said with a smile, bending his head to kiss my forehead, and then he picked me up and carried me to bed.

"Will ye stay? Ye dinnae have anythin' te do, do ye?" I asked him, my arms still wrapped firmly around his neck as he laid me on the bed.

"I should go over the finances, but I'm tired as an auld dog," he replied, yawning as he spoke.

"Then come here and let me hold ye," I told him, pulling him a little closer to me and lying down with him in my arms. I brushed my fingers through his curls, taking in the features of his face. He was tired, a little pale, and still the handsomest man I'd ever known. "How is it that ye can still look so good despite bein' so tired? Ye catch me when I'm tired and I look like Medusa." He chuckled at this.

"Ye look like Venus, mo ghràidh , my beautiful goddess of love," he told me, wrapping his arms around me to hold me. "Or Scàthach, my fierce Scottish warrior woman. Mo bhean laochaire. "

"Dinnae make me laugh. Ye ken I look like a dearg-due in the mornings," I said, and he laughed instead at my reference to an Irish vampire-like female demon - the name 'dearg-due' was a literal translation of 'red bloodsucker'.

"Then ye look like the most beautiful dearg-due I've ever seen," Jamie told me. He snuggled into my shoulder and soon, he was fast asleep. I stroked his hair for some time, unable to sleep and filled with worry of what would happen if the plan failed. It couldn't fail, or thousands would lose their lives.

8 June, 1744

Maison Elise, Paris, France

JAMIE POV

Jamie and Cailean were on their way to yet another meeting with Charles, but this time, they were summoned with a message that the meeting was urgent. Jamie was hesitant to leave Catrìona, as she still seemed a bit feverish (although she was in denial) but she insisted that she felt perfectly fine and didn't need to be watched, so Jamie agreed to go with Cailean to find out what it was that Charles wanted. "It's probably te do with the ship," Cailean said to him in Gaelic. "Where's Murtagh gone to? Will we see him?"

"If all went te plan, he managed te salvage some crates of wine and is havin' them sold in Belgium," Jamie answered, also in Gaelic.

"Smart, and a good way te make a bit of extra cash," Cailean replied. The pair of them entered Maison Elise, finding themselves face to face with a pouting, very down-in-the-dumps, as Cailean would put it, Charles. He seemed drunk already, more so than usual, and most definitely pouting like a child.

"Finally, you're here. I have been anxiously waiting," Charles said to them with some irritation.

"Aye, we came as soon as we received yer message," Jamie told him.

"Aye, straight away," Cailean replied, the two of them sitting down. "How may we be of service, Yer Highness?"

"There has been a catastrophe in Le Havre at the Comte's warehouse," said Charles bitterly. "A mysterious illness, which no one has been able to diagnose as of yet."

"An illness? Is it contagious?" Cailean asked, masking concern - he knew exactly what mysterious illness was plaguing the Comte's sailors.

"One should not speculate as to the contagion of this malady," Charles snapped.

"What aboot the harbour master? Can he be paid off?" Jamie asked, trying to feign concern. "Is tha' not how ye normally solve these sorts of things?"

"There is no use. The Comte's ship has already been burned, and all of the wine with it," Charles told him. "It is like someone is interfering with God's plan!" Jamie and Cailean exchanged a glance. "They always remain one step ahead of us! What can we do to get one step ahead of them ?"

"I ken how ye feel, and I'm sorry te hear of this," said Jamie as sympathetically as he could manage. "Perhaps another venture-"

"There are no funds for another venture, James! I gave everything I had and I counted on the Comte, but it seems that that was a mistake," Charles whined.

"I cannae say I'm surprised. This isnae the first time the Comte has brought an illness te French shores on one of his ships," Cailean chimed in.

"All the sacrifices I have made, lowering myself to a commoner, begging for money, have amounted to naught ," Charles exclaimed, as if Cailean hadn't spoken. "Where will the House of Stuart stand if our cause fails?"

"Yer Highness, dinnae lose hope yet," Jamie said in an attempt to console the prince, who simply ignored him to wallow in his own sorrows.

"I will be forced to return home to Rome, where even the Pope's goodwill for my father begins to run dry. Or worse… Mark me, I will take my own life if I am forced to live in God-forsaken Poland ," Charles moaned. "Oh, James, Cailean… What am I to do?"

"We shall figure it out in due time," Cailean told him, standing and moving to sit beside the prince and give his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Dinnae give up yet, Yer Highness. We will find a way. Our cause isnae dead yet. It's best if ye go home and rest fer now… Jamie and I will put our heads together and try to find another solution."

"You are both such wonderful friends," Charles said to them both, clearly unstable and very drunk. "I am honoured to call you both my friend."

"As are we, Yer Highness," said Jamie. "Come, we've a carriage outside. We'll take ye home. As my wife would say, rest is the best cure fer an ailment of the heart." With one on either side of the prince, they helped him to stand, then led the drunken fool to their carriage to bring the man home.

9 June, 1744

L'Hôpital des Anges, Paris, France

CATRÌONA POV

"Catrina! I am glad to have caught you!" I heard Louise's voice say as I climbed down from the carriage outside of L'Hôpital des Anges, and I glanced up at her with my eyebrow raised.

"Louise?" I asked as she approached, a servant trailing behind her. "What are ye doin' here?"

"I am to travel to my estate in the country soon and I did wish to invite you and les bébés , if you will come," she told me.

"And ye came all the way here te tell me?" I asked her.

"And I did wish to see what it is that draws you here. I cannot help but to be curious," said Louise, looking around at the surroundings of L'Hôpital . "I do not understand how it does not distress you."

"What distresses me is how this city treats its underprivileged and poor," I answered her. "Ye see what it's like when ye walk through the streets. There are staggerin' numbers of them." I let out a sigh as I turned my attention to a spot on the stairs outside of the hospital. "Just yesterday, when I arrived… I saw, lying there, a woman lying dead with her deceased child in her arms. It was horrible…"

"Indeed it is," said Louise, eyeing the spot I referred to and pressing her hand to her somewhat bulging stomach. "I have seen many similar sights. Last week, I was with Elise and she said to me, gen d'armes should remove them to less desirable parts of the city'."

"How kind," I said. "I'd ask if ye wanted te come in and help, but in yer condition, it's best not to," I told her. "Can I offer ye my carriage? I'm badly needed today, there's a sort of epidemic going through the city."

"My carriage is not far, but I thank you," said Louise. "Do consider coming to my estate. It will do you nice to get out of this city."

"I'll think aboot it," I said, holding her hands in mine and giving her a smile. I watched as she returned to the carriage in question, then turned to face the hospital. I felt a small, but sharp pain, almost like a pinprick, in my side and pressed my hand to it, masking the pain as I addressed Fergus. "Dinnae get into any trouble, ye hear me? If ye do, I'll box yer ears in."

" Oui , Madame," said Fergus, his eyes widening a little, and I ruffled his hair.

"Dinnae fash, I'm only fillin' in fer Murtagh," I told him. "But I am serious aboot ye stayin' out of trouble. If I find yer up te somethin', I'll make ye come inside te clean champer pots."

The pain in my side continued to worsen, but it wasn't crippling. When I went to relieve myself later in the day, I took a sterile bandage and wrapped it around my midsection to put pressure on the pain, which helped a little, but soon, even that wasn't enough. I felt warm, too, but it was summer so I chalked it up to that. When I was bent over a patient, I had to steady myself to keep from falling, and then felt a hand grasp my upper arm.

"You must come sit, Madame," Mother Hildegard told me.

"Just a few more patients and I'll be out of yer hair, er… wimple," I said, but Mother Hildegard seemed in no mood for jokes.

"If you do not want to become a patient yourself, you will come rest. You are pale and you feel warm," said Mother Hildegard, pulling me away from the bedside of the patient. Glancing down, she noticed that a small puddle of blood seemed to have appeared beneath my skirts where I was standing and she looked down. "You are bleeding, my dear."

"My courses have always been a bit abnormal. Now I've a reason fer a bit of a pain I've had all day. Happens sometimes, perfectly normal," I said as I viewed the blood spot, but what I didn't say to Mother Hildegard was that the blood was a little more than I could expect with my normal courses. "Aye, nothin' te fash over…"

"The hour is late, and you are unwell. You will stay tonight," Mother Hildegard told me as she got me onto a chair.

"Oh, no, I couldn't! My husband will be worried and my sons need me," I told her, but she wouldn't hear of it.

"It was not a suggestion," she said. "I will send word to your husband with your young servant boy. Soeur Angelique! Amener Madame Fraser dans la chambre d'amis… " Her voice trailed off as she went in search of Fergus, and Sister Angelique approached me to take me to the spare bedchamber, as Mother Hildegard had ordered her to do.

" Venez avec moi, Madame Fraser, " Sister Angelique said to me, leading me to the spare chamber they had in the convent.

"My husband will worry," I said in French, glancing back at the front doors.

"We will worry if we do not see to you," said Sister Angelique, and I let out a sigh.

"All right," I replied.

Jared's House, Paris, France

JAMIE POV

Jamie returned from the warehouse to young Fergus sitting on the marble steps in the foyer, who then jumped up when Jamie entered. "Good evening, Milord!" said Fergus animatedly.

"Fergus," said Jamie, a little confused. "Where is Milady?"

"She is staying the night at l'hôpital, " said Fergus, which alarmed Jamie. "Oh, no, no, Milord! The hour was late and the Mother thought it best if Milady remains, so not to travel the streets at night. I allowed it."

"I see," said Jamie. "It was verra good of me te put her in yer capable hands. Are ye hungry?"

"Always, Milord," said Fergus.

"The lad has been fed three times, Monsieur ," said the voice of the new nanny coming down the stairs, who was taking over for Beth. Last he heard, Beth was starting to feel better, but Catrìona still thought it best to keep her away from the lads. In this nanny's arms, Archie squirmed and whined, wanting to get down.

"Nothin' wrong with feedin' the lad. Give him here," Jamie said to her, holding his hands out for Archie, and the nanny handed him to him. "Keep Brian company, Catrìona says he's verra susceptible te croup."

"Yes, Milord," said the nanny, disappearing again. Jamie kissed Archie's gingery curls and he giggled, glad to be in his father's arms instead of the nanny's.

"When will Murtagh be home, Milord?" Fergus asked Jamie.

"He's gone te Belgium, so it could be some time. Couple of months, maybe. At least one," Jamie replied, leading Fergus to the dining room while holding Archie in his arms.

"I will miss his happy face," said Fergus, and Jamie chuckled.

"It's best he's no' seen around these parts fer some time," Jamie told him. "Suzette!"

"Milady says 'out of sight, out of mind'," said Fergus, and Jamie raised an eyebrow.

"Huh. I've never heard her say tha' before," Jamie replied, sitting down with Archie on his lap as Suzette entered. "Can we get dinner?"

"Yes, Milord," said Suzette, curtsying and leaving.

"She says it to me every day," said Fergus. "Monsieur Cailean is with his lady."

"I assumed so," said Jamie. He looked down at Archie, who was entrenched by the buttons on Jamie's coat, and couldn't shake a general feeling of unsettlement. Something didn't feel right… Something was going to happen. He didn't know why he felt that way, or how to stop it, but he knew that soon - very soon - something bad was going to happen. Would Charles find new investors? Would Catrìona fall ill? Would Brian…