Hello everyone! This is chapter 1 of a Brianna/Bonnet story. I'm hoping to publish a new chapter every Friday, but please do be patient with me as I'm in graduate school. Please comment, favorite and follow if you enjoy, it means the world to me hearing your thoughts.
All characters are the sole property of Diana Gabaldon, all original ideas came from her Outlander series, both the books and television series
WARNING: May contain explicit language, violence, and sexually explicit scenes. This story will NOT contain rape! Bonnet will be an evolving character who will still be dastardly, I can promise you that!
Chapter One: Out of the Pot and into the Frying Pan
Brianna wasn't sure exactly what she was expecting to feel stepping through the screaming stones for the first time. Her mother was right, it had been an indescribable experience, both earth-shattering and harrowing—a constant struggle toward the least menacing thoughts that swam past her in the seemingly never-ending wormhole. When she came to, she recalled waking with a purpose: she had to find her mother and Jamie and warn them of the impending fire, no matter the cost. She stood up wearily, the landscape lush and overgrown as if human hands hadn't yet tampered with it. Brushing her skirts and straightening her petticoat, she recalled feeling like an ant tasked to climb up Mount Everest. It wouldn't be easy—she was glad she knew this from the start because there was nothing easy about making it to Wilmington.
After a difficult eight-week journey aboard the Cutty Shark from Scotland to North Carolina, she marveled. It was nothing short of amazing she had even made it this far. Haggling her way aboard the ship had been the easy part. She just batted her eyelids and tossed a few coins in the direction of the homely harbor master. She loathed the damsel-in-distress part she had to play, but the gentlemen here were a good deal more malleable than those in 1969, albeit still a risk to entertain.
Her mother had told her few things about the men of this time, however, she remembered her father burning a few of his ledgers on Jonathon Wolverton Randall following the disturbing accounts from her mother. Thusly from then on, she was cautious, hiding her long red curls in a neat up-do, averting her eyes from strangers and wearing muted colors so as not to draw attention to herself. A lot of good this did. She could not hide her gorgeous red hair, radiant ivory skin and warm chocolate eyes even dressing in a burlap sack. There was hardly a man that laid eyes on her that did not find her utterly ravishing.
Traveling as a young woman alone in 1770 was—to be quite upfront with it—extremely dangerous, and she had no misgivings about this. Onboard the ship, she had managed to stay huddled with the other women travelers with her head down, steering clear of darkened corners or wandering far from the passengers' sleeping quarters. It was tough, but doable for a journey that transcended time and space. She shook her head, coming back to her current situation. She had made it this far, now she had to find Fraser's Ridge. Another seemingly impossible task. She blinked and took in her surroundings, the haziness of thought leaving her clouded vision until it became pointed and sharp once again. She refocused on the quaint little tavern with an inn she had been staying at. It was loud at the moment, and nothing short of busy. She had grown accustomed to it, after a few days it held a certain fondness and familiarity. However, this would be her last night here—she was out of money and time.
Bree stood up and walked to the bar. She would need help to find the ridge, there was no doubt about it. She hadn't a single sense of the wilderness, especially not one as untamed as North Carolina in 1770. She noticed immediately a group of men playing poker at a table and laughing loudly, clearly drunk and unruly. She made a mind to steer clear, but one had already pinned his eyes to her. The rest soon followed suit. The way that the men stared and ogled her, she could feel their eyes raking across her body even now as exhausted and worn-looking as she was. She suppressed a shiver, trying to maintain an air of ignorance about their wandering eyes. She asked for a drink, whisky, and gulped it nervously, hoping they would lose interest in her shortly and get back to their game.
Stephen Bonnet couldn't quite place why, but he felt a strange sensation as he looked the woman up and down. Of course, she was beautiful, and he did certainly have an eye for beauty, but there was something more. A familiarity to her features he could not place. He would have thought perhaps she had been one of the numerous whores he had bedded since docking in Wilmington a few days prior, but there was something about her that looked as if she came from a different world. Certainly, it was not just her hair, which was and wild and unkempt and gave her the look of a beggar, but her skin was the finest milky white he had ever seen and her features were delicate and refined. She was picturesque. His pale green eyes skated across her slim figure and hesitated at her prominent breasts, a hunger growing within him that he knew all too well. "Fold," he grumbled to the men, not removing his eyes from the woman in the corner. Stephen Bonnet was not the sort to wait for the finer things to come to him. A wicked grin spread across his face as he stood up to make his way over to the mysterious woman.
Brianna noticed at once when he got up from the table of rowdy men. He was tall, of a muscular build with mid-shoulder length blonde hair pulled back into a leather thong. Perhaps his most striking feature was a scar etched down the left side of his face which only seemed to add to his handsomeness. His smile, which was charming enough and accentuated his becoming dimples, seemed to never reach his eyes, though it caused his scar to crinkle adding to the character of his face. She felt a strange sense of sinister radiating from his man. What was worse, he appeared to be walking towards her with a purpose. Bree sloshed down the last of her whisky—she needed to get back to her room. She felt a sense of urgency as she laid down the cup and turned on her heel. Before she could start on her way, a firm hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. It was not a hand that felt yielding.
"Can I help you?" she asked meekly, turning and attempting to withdraw her hand from the stranger's. His stormy green eyes bored holes into her own fiery brown ones. His dashing grin remained solidly in place.
"Aye, I believe ye can. Captain Stephen Bonnet, and who are you darlin'?" he asked with a thick Irish accent and a confidence that sent a chill down Brianna's spine. He still hadn't released his icy grip on her wrist. Her fingers had started to tingle with a loss of sensation.
"Brianna R-Fraser," she stumbled a bit on her words. She wasn't sure just how well known her father's heinous ancestor was, but perhaps it was safer here to stick to Fraser.
Stephen noticed the fear emanating from the young woman immediately and he drank it in. He felt the slight tremor in her hand and smiled wider. Being in control was something he required and demanded—if he was not in control, he would take control. Suddenly, it hit him. Why this woman looked familiar. He had not bedded her, though he was sure he would by the end of the night. Whether willing or by force.
"Fraser? I know that name. Have ye any relations with James Fraser?" he thought back to the man who had helped him escape with a fondness if you could consider it as such. Her red hair was the same shade, her nose just as his, and the shape of her eyes was undoubtedly her mother's. That was a woman he certainly regretted not being inside of. The thought darkened his mind, his tongue gliding slowly across his front teeth. He had left them with their lives after robbing them, but Danu was obviously giving him another chance to toy with them. He reflexively tightened his grip when she didn't respond right away, and she winced in pain.
"Yes, that's my father, I'm looking for him and my mother. Do you know them?" he didn't appear to be the sort of company her mother and Jamie would keep, but perhaps it was worth a shot. As of now, she had nothing and no one to go off of. What's worse, she was out of gold after her trip over from Scotland. She silenced the nagging feeling of danger fluttering in her gut and straightened herself up.
Bonnet finally released her wrist. She wasn't going to be getting away from him any time soon—he had piqued her interest. She had also piqued his. He couldn't place her accent, it sounded so refined but harsh around the edges of the words. Exotic was the only word that came to his mind. He had a certain proclivity for exotic things, with a need to acquire and collect them. After some thought, he twisted one of his many rings around with his strong fingers and pulled it from his pinky. Holding it out to Brianna, she took it in her hands. Her eyes widened as she comprised the familiar article her mother had worn religiously since coming back through the stones.
"Where did you get this?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing. He still hadn't answered her first question. She looked into his eyes quizzically but they revealed nothing. They were as cold as the murky depths she had crossed to get to Wilmington and seemed just as dangerous. All of a sudden she became eerily aware of just how close he was to her. His knees brushing ever so slightly against her skirts. She took a half step back, and he made no move to follow. Keeping the same charismatic grin, he finally replied to her.
"Yer mother and father helped me out some months ago. I was in a bit of a tough spot and they gave me a hand. They're good folk. Yer mother had taken her ring off before bandaging my leg that was injured—it was quite bloodied. A fantastic touch, she has," he paused a moment, "Anyway, she forgot it after our meeting with some patrol officers and I had been meaning to return it to her, just haven't had a reason to make the journey," his eyes flashed wickedly. Remembering pulling the ring from her terrified mother's mouth he felt an itch in his trousers. Brianna was markedly more attractive to him with her deep red hair and tiny waist that was begging to be freed from the chest binder she had laced around it. It was all he could do to not drag her into one of the back rooms and bend her over right then. He briefly considered it, knowing no one would stop him. He had built a reputation that allowed him to never desire for much, always taking whatever he wanted when he wanted it. But this one, he wanted to play with—no one liked a game of wolf and lamb more than Stephen when it was on his terms. All he had to do now was get her back to the Gloriana before they set sail in the morning.
"I'm trying to get to Fraser's Ridge, their land, but I don't know how to get there from here. And I don't have a horse. Do you know the area?" Brianna knew based on maps from 1770 that she had found that Boone, North Carolina was the approximate location of Fraser's Ridge. What she hadn't counted on was the country being so barren and wild, most of it being Indian territory. Some of her courage and resolve had faded; it certainly wasn't safe to travel there alone. It would be easier with someone who knew the land and could help to protect her if she needed it.
"Aye, I know Fraser's Ridge," Stephen knew nothing of the place, but one of his many talents was lying, and his face gave nothing away. "I could help ye get there darlin', if ye wanted. I do need to return the ring and it would be something to see them again after all this time," Stephen hid a smirk. He wanted to let her think she had a choice in going with him. It would make it that much easier to get her out of this tavern.
Brianna studied his face, looking for any sign of misgivings and finding none, allowed herself to relax a bit. He seemed quite ready to help her, and there were much worse looking men she could be traveling across the state with. In fact, his handsomeness was quite apparent to her now. She knew it would be a longshot to trust Bonnet. But, he did have proof he knew her mother, there was no mistaking her ring. She was out of options and it seemed one had finally fallen into her lap. She would be foolish to turn it down. Not only would she get to Fraser's Ridge safe and in one piece, but she was sure her parents would delight in seeing an old friend.
Finally, she gave in. "If you would be willing, I would sure like the company for the trip. I haven't got anything to pay you with though," she looked at her feet.
"Oh darlin' your company is payment enough for me," he said enigmatically. "Would ye mind if we went out to my ship? It's docked just outside. I'll be needin' to gather a few things before we leave on our way," without waiting for a reply, he started for the door of the tavern, Brianna quickly on his heels.
"Shouldn't we leave first thing? It's a bit late to head out tonight. I don't want to start in the dar—" her sentence was cut short with a squeal as Bonnet yanked her roughly through the door, closing it behind him. Then, before she could even think she was facing the mussel-brined docks, the chill in the air nipping at her skin through her thin clothing. Within seconds, Bonnet quickly pulled back a fist and let it fly, landing with a sharp thud directly at the base of her skull. Brianna fell forward, a bright scene of stars dashing across her eyelids before it all went black.
Stephen stooped next to the small woman's body. She didn't fight as much as he had hoped she would have, but nevertheless, she was his now. He picked up her limp body and swung her over his shoulder, she couldn't have been more than 7 stone. Headed toward the Gloriana, he didn't look back. Barbados awaited them both.