Claire's gift for Jamie was stowed safely away in her clothes chest waiting for the right moment. A moment that Claire was starting to think would never come. Every night she thought they might have alone was instead filled with folks who sat with them around that fireplace in eager to talk of vanished years, reminiscing with mirth in shining eyes of land far away over heaving leagues of sea. On these nights, children and adults had tossed laughter lightly to, and fro, and friends gathered. Dance and music and jest had been at their heart. And neither could refuse.
Then the busy time of year arrived. She and Jamie worked so hard on the homestead and helping new families settle that there was no time to talk, and when they were finally alone together, they were compelled to sleep from pure physical exhaustion. Neither of them made any pretense of eating, for they could not swallow without an effort, so they drank milk, ate bread, and worked.
One night that sat at the table at twilight, a shadowy, suggestive time of day, resting and warming their tired bodies, enjoying that they were finally alone. Claire was blissfully content.
"This is a moment worth living through weeks of work and stress for. I'm looking forward to a day or two to ourselves," she said softly.
At that moment, Jamie took her hand in his, and rather than asking her to go to bed as she has anticipated instead, he explained his plan to go into town the next morning. Claire sighed heavily at the scheme but nodded her head in agreement. Of course, she had spoken too soon about being alone.
Jamie squeezed her hand apologetically. "Well Sassenach, I'll be gone for no more than three days, and I'll be back by dusk. I'd not go if we dinna need the supplies so much."
She shook off her disappointment and replaced it with practicality. "Of course you should go. Why wouldn't you?" she asked resolutely.
"Well, if ye must know, there were three ravens on the fencepost. I don't like leavin' ye with that kind of omen to start off with, but then I remembered that you'll be telling me not to worry about superstitions like that anyway."
"And you would be right. I'd go with you, but Mrs. Calstock is bound to go into labor any day, and 6th babies tend to be hasty. But if you are going, then here I have a list for you for the apothecary, some you might find at the tanner and drysalter as well."
"The tanner?" He said, skeptical and scratched his head. "And what could you possibly need from a drysalter?" Jamie reached for his spectacles, and his eyebrow arched as he read over it "- indigo, galls, shumach, logwood, fustick, madder, flax, hemp potashes...That's quite a list. Do you have plans you should be explaining to me Sassenach?"
"No," she laughed. "I just know that when winter sets in, it's going to be more difficult for you to get into town, and I want to be well-stocked."
When they moved to bed, it felt very late, and after the day's labor, neither of them had the energy for anything more than trading slow, gentle kisses, but there was something to be said for the sleepy intimacy of it. Claire knew to cherish these moments: bleary with tiredness and perfectly willing to revel in the slow interplay of breath and lips without any need to take it further. So her fingers curled in his hair, and then she smiled against his mouth before closing her eyes and letting sleep claim them both.
The next morning Jamie had risen as soon as the first gray streaks lightened the sky and foretold the rising of the sun. He was dressed, the wagon was asked for, and he worked on packing a rucksack with his belongings before Claire woke. Once he had made sufficient progress, Jaime resumed looking at her. She was still asleep and wished she could stay that way all day to shed the weariness that he could see in her eyes.
There was a small twitch in her cheek when the first ray of sun lengthened through the window and slowly stretched across her face, nothing more than a fracture of a second, but it was enough to catch his attention. While she was still suspended in-between a vanishing dream and the waking world, he used tender fingertips to brush away the hair from her temple. It was immediately followed by his nose gently nudging her skin and soft lips pressing against the exact spot the sun marked. Her head leaned into the touch instinctively as she sank her other cheek into the pillow, arching her neck in a process, an obvious temptation for Jamie's wandering lips. But he restrained himself.
"Is it time to get up already?" she breathed through half parted lips, letting out an involuntary sigh.
"'T'is Sassenach. We won't have what we need if I dinna get an early start one way or another." Jamie murmured into her neck, the bur in his voice vibrating through her skin and traveling down to her chest, gradually rousing her from her slumber. "I'll miss ye every moment."
Claire's eyes sprang open, and she sat up suddenly, and she wiped the tiredness from her eyes as she remembered that Jamie was set to leave that day. "You should have woken me sooner," she said in an embarrassed tone and quickly got dressed as Jamie bolted a breakfast of leftover biscuit and fragrant tea. Outside there was a stamping of feet and the whinny of a horse that announced the wagon at the door.
She saw him off, watching as he receded into the trees. Then she turned and looked about her. The beauty of the Ridge was unmatched. Beyond the fields, frosted with white where the foothills and beyond them the mountains. A golden glow rimmed the easternmost range, and over the far mountains, there hung a soft gray mist. But the sky above was already turning a clear bright blue. The turn of the year was beginning as she stood gazing into the cold dawn landscape, first in the direction of the farmhouse and then into the thick stand of trees. It was a beechwood, and they stood tall and stately around her. She could see her breath and the frigid air burned in her lungs every time she exhaled.
Three days.
She had three days to prepare for his return.
Later she went out beside the west fence and gathered an armful of frostbitten tansy, which she boiled to a thick green tea. Then she stirred in oat flour until it was a stiff paste. She bandaged each hand and arm with the mixture and plastered the soggy, strong-smelling stuff in a thick poultice over her face and neck. She was so tired she went to sleep, and when she awoke, she was half skinned. By midday, she was a raw, even red; that evening, she had faded to a brilliant pink under the soothing influence of homemade cold cream made from wax and rosewater. The next day her skin was smooth, the ruddiness and texture from the months of working bareheaded in the sun removed. A dusting of rice powder was all that was needed for protection from the elements.
The second day was spent in her storeroom. She rummaged through all her ingredients until she found what she wanted. Cochineal beetles. Essential for making carmine dye. Claire tipped the folded paper packet into her mortar and began to pulverize the tiny gray bodies. Once she was satisfied with the finely powdered results, she set about boiling them in ammonia. She strained the mixture and added it to a clear salt solution. It took some trial and error on her part, but the end result was a bright crimson powder that she mixed with castor oil and beeswax that was as close as she could come to her most favorite lipstick color, Cherries in the Snow. It was the only color she could find that struck the perfect balance between pink and red—bold, but definitely not too over the top even in the 18th Century. And something that shouldn't be invented for another 180 years.
Claire awoke on the third day to a sunshiny morning feeling so good knowing that Jamie would be home that evening. She had breakfast early and spent the day with Roger and Brianna, willing the sun to move across the sky at a faster pace so she could see her husband. Eventually, the hours did pass, and she declined an offer to stay for supper and made her way home.
Although it was early afternoon, the light was dim in the cabin that the lamplight gave an eerie quality to the room. The giant shadows on the wall moved and danced as she prepared for the evening. She lit more candles than was probably prudent and arranged them on the mantle, wishing that she could put a record on, that the sultry sounds of jazz rather than the distant sound of wolves and crickets could fill her ears. She would be happy with the light showing her handiwork to its best advantage to set the mood. Then she parted her hair at the side of her head and brushed and brushed until her arm ached, and her unruly curls were subdued into soft and shining waves.
The dress spilled like water over her head and then fell about her, clinging to every curve and flared at the hem that brushed the puncheon floors of the cabin. It had an ethereal quality that gave it the most graceful motion as she turned from side to side. Her body's fluidity created a luscious movement even as it hung delicately on her frame, her left thigh on display from the deep slit in the fabric. The neckline plunged in a deep v between her breast, and yet the gathers at the underbust both veiled and framed her decolletage. It was amazing how this simple slip of cream voile made her feel so womanly. She set a candle near the mirror and turned around. The back of the dress draped dangerously low, and the candlelight illuminated the long line of her back, the ridges of her spine looking like a string of pearls in the moonlight.
She felt as if the spirit of Madame Vionnet, caught between the ages, was looking at her with approval.
She took up the small earthenware pot that held the bright red-pink concoction she had made and carefully applied the bright shade to her lips, emphasizing her cupid's bow with sharp points and then using her fingers to rouge her cheek ever so slightly. As she looked at herself, the images came. Of his hands-on her...and his face as she kissed him...and the sound of their breathing mingled together. Claire quickly shook her head, blushing at how her own breath came quicker as her thoughts roamed. She stood up and began to pace the room, hoping that walking would help cool her blood. But her mind continued to wander. In her mind's eye, his eyes meet her own, a small smile on his lips, and it makes her catch her breath. He takes her in his arms, and his lips are on her cheek, then her jaw. His fingers trail down her ribs and over her hips and lower, pulling her to him, and she…
She shook her head to clear it, but it was no use. She began again. Thinking of how she liked to be touched; how she liked to touch him. She was drifting, immersing herself in the memory of him; she felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into arousal. She closed her eyes while she rested her hand against her cheek. Her hand curved down the line of her neck to her clavicle, then farther, touching the soft skin at the neckline of her dress, a spot that Jamie loved to pay attention to. She couldn't stop her hands from skimming over her own body, nor did she want to. She couldn't help the hum in the back of her throat when she pictured his hands where hers were venturing, and his mouth following.
As she turned back to her mirror, she felt a familiar feeling at the back of her neck, almost a feeling of pins and needles. She didn't know why, but she was always preternaturally aware of his presence as if he had some sort of sixth sense where she was concerned. She turned to see if her instincts were correct.
Suddenly a draft of cold air hit her, and she could hear the stamping of boots at the door and hands slapping together for warmth.
Jamie froze when he stepped into the room.
The candles on the table reflected its light off the angles of her face. The hollow of her throat stood out in relief at the base of her neck. Her cool blue eyes looked like the ocean, and her sleek hair shone glossy in the candlelight. He half-closed his eyes, and smiling, stared straight at her. His eyes never wavered from her. She stood with grace inborn, her hair moving slightly from the heat of the hearth. The tint of her hair, her luminous eyes, red lips, and rose-flushed face grew more vivid. And there was something else, a light from within that illuminated her. It was a compound of self-reliance and empathy—these things combined to produce a breadth and depth of character altogether unusual and intoxicating.
Jamie continued to stare at her, vaguely aware that his heart was pounding like it was trying to escape from his chest.
"Christ Claire," were the only words that his lips were able to form.
"Do you like it?"
Jamie continued to stare in a dumbfounded manner that she found amusing. She turned away and placed her hand on the hearth and smiled a self-satisfied smile when she heard him gasp audibly when he caught sight of her back and the curve of her hips. She looked over her shoulder at him and with a bewitching smirk.
"Are you going to kiss me, hello?"
"I would, but I want to be looking at ye in that dress. I canna look at ye enough."
"Look then." she took two steps forward, and slowly he circled her, taking in every detail. He was entranced; she was all that mattered in his world at that moment. She was magnificent. And she was his.
"I dinna ken a woman could look like this," he said in awe.
"It's a dress style that is popular in the future." She looked at him slyly. She realized that he had never seen a woman in this kind of silhouette before and never would outside of this room.
"It's a dress and not a shift?" he said in awe. "And your lips, they remind me of hawthorn berries in the snow."
"Close enough." she smiled.
He stopped in front of her and took a step closer. He tilted her face towards his, and his mouth claimed hers. Soon his lips began their journey down her neck. A moan escaped from Claire as he pressed against a tender spot behind her ear. His hands caressed her hips, and he felt her weight shift as she moved closer to him. He took a moment to slide his hands up the soft naked skin of her back until they paused at the nape of her neck. Jamie leaned in close to her ear and whispered her name, sending a rush of goosebumps down her spine. She loved how he said her name.
His touch was reverent, and he reached to cup her breast. His eyes bore into hers as he touched her and drew a sharp breath from her. She knew this was the reaction he sought. He gently kissed Claire's hairline and nuzzled the crown of her head. He swept her hair aside to reveal her neck and kissed her there with ardor. He couldn't resist her neck. His hand moved down her stomach then over and up to her hip. Before he could stop himself, his hand was trailing down to the slit in the front of the dress where her thigh was slipping from it. He felt her shiver slightly.
"Don't stop," her voice was low, but her tone was commanding, in a way that made Jamie weak.
She took hold of the silky voile and pulled upwards in an effort to bare herself to him, but Jamie stopped her hands.
"Please, leave it. When I take ye, I want ye wearing this. It looks like it grew on you like you are one of the Still Folk."
"The Still Folk?"
"Aye. An Ashrais with your pale skin. They are most active at night, and they cannot live on land. If they are touched by sunlight, they melt into a rainbow pool of water. A man must keep his fairy lover by moonlight and candlelight."
Jamie turned her away from him with his hands, and his lips began a pilgrimage down her back. Claire's breath hitched and turned into a deep moan, her hand reached back to tangle in her hair. He kept his mouth on the sensitive spot on the small of her back. Then he turned her towards him and stood up, his body pressed against hers.
Standing on the tips of her toes, Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. His mouth tasted like spruce gum, and it complimented the flavor of him, something she savored without restraint. Her teeth grazed his bottom lip, and she smiled as she heard him inhale sharply. Jamie pulled her closer, the heat of their bodies now reaching critical highs.
"I need you," she whispered into his ear.
He was trembling. They were both trembling.
She reached to untie his stock and then discarded his vest. Her hand moved to his waistband, and Jamie helped her with the rest of his clothes until they were both panting with need. Jamie reached to lift the thin fabric of her dress and gather it at her waist. Then his hands smoothed down her legs until he could grab her buttocks before he lifted her up, and her legs encircled his waist tightly as he eased her down on the bed.
He let her set the pace with their caresses as he rested between her legs. Jamie moved his mouth over hers slowly, enjoying the feel of every kiss, savoring how they felt so close together, until Claire's teeth impatiently grazed his lower lip, demanding more. He chuckled softly, then obediently, he deepened their kiss, inviting her to taste more as he eagerly did the same. His body rubbed over hers, and hers responded in kind, arching readily, flowing like a wave to meet him.
Pleased with the reaction he was able to provoke in her, he moved his mouth to her breast. Her back arched, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. He didn't leave her wanting for long. With one quick movement, he brought their bodies together. Her fingers dug into his shoulder as she searched for leverage. as the molten heat within her core was finally set alight, waves of pleasure turning into flames and blazing under her skin. She loved his face near hers, his strong warm body buried in hers. The shared intensity of their bodies felt exquisite. She kissed him and clenched her walls around him until the pleasure welled up inside and then flowed out over her. She clung tightly to Jamie and moaned his name. He felt her come apart with bliss in his arms, letting go completely. Her cries flowed through the room. He followed right after her.
He pulled her to him while Claire continued to feel the glow of her release before she slowly returned to her senses. The embers were spent, and she felt reduced to ashes. Jamie rested his forehead against hers. They lingered together, limbs entwined, eyes closed, their heartbeats becoming steady once more. Jamies' hand followed the line of her arm until he reached her hand and gently entwined his fingers with hers, his palm enveloping hers protectively. Claire interlaced their fingers to keep his hand in place. Jamie knew it was her way of telling him she was happy.
He leaned forward on their shared pillow until their foreheads met, closing his eyes at the feeling of her breath on his lips, and hesitated. Claire buried her head in his neck, clutching him close as if he was the only thing holding her to the earth. "Jamie-"
"I know," he said shakily. The sudden wetness against the side of his neck had him blinking back tears of his own. "I know."
They drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, but before dreams claimed her, Claire heard Jamie whisper into her ear.
"Sassenach, I never thought that there was anything better than ye in yer bare skin. But I've never been happier to be wrong. The future seems to ken what it was doing with a dress. Can ye wear it again tomorrow?"
Claire laughed softly and snuggled closer to his warm body.
"As you please, Mr. Frasier."
THE END