A/N: Here I am bouncing back to season 1 again. I hope you enjoy it!
"I'm going to put an end to this," Jamie told his godfather. He felt sorry for the young lass whose father was bringing shame upon her in front of the whole clan.
It had been years since Jamie was last in Leoch, but he remembered the scandal from back then surrounding the death of the girl's mother.
'Fell down the stairs and broke her neck,' the husband claimed. But the man had been known to beat his wife. He enjoyed seeing a woman in pain. There was no doubt in Jamie's mind that that was what this was all about. The man wouldn't beat his daughter himself, not when he knew well that since his wife's death the eye of suspicion had been on him. Instead, he brought the lass to Colum with a trumped-up accusation.
"What are you doing?" asked Murtagh.
"Dumbest thing I've ever done, but I'm gonna do it anyway," conceded Jamie, "The lass doesn't deserve to be lashed. I'm going to take her punishment for her, to save her the shame."
"But what about your back?" reasoned Murtagh.
"Aaagh, Colum won't lash me," said Jamie dismissively, "He'll let me choose."
"What, fists? With your shoulder?" asked Murtagh incredulously.
"Aye," said Jamie glancing toward Claire and banking on her compassion that she would tend to his cuts and bruises before the night was over. He closed his eyes for a moment imagining the tingling feel of her fingers on his skin, the enticing smell of her hair when she was near, and her charming smile that never failed to set his heart racing.
"Do you have a thing for the lass?" inquired Murtagh.
Jamie's eyes snapped open and back to his godfather, "Who?"
"The lass," Murtagh indicated Laoghaire. He shook his head with a measure of disgust. The thought of Laoghaire when Claire was around… well, there was just no comparison.
"No, not her," Jamie unwittingly replied.
Murtagh did not miss the masked inference of this statement. However, he decided to save that inquisition for some other time. Instead, he broached the political implications of his godson's decision.
"You ken you're sticking your nose into clan business," Murtagh pointed out.
"And you ken I'm not after the Lairdship of Clan Mackenzie," Jamie countered vehemently.
"Aye," answered Murtagh, "but they don't know that." He gestured toward Jamie's uncles at the end of the hall.
"I'm only doing what I think is right," replied Jamie.
He turned toward his Uncle Colum on the dais and called out, "Stadadh a-nis (Stop now)!"
Jamie stepped forward and told Colum he would endure the girl's punishment for her. When he finished making his offer to the laird, he turned toward the crowd and pandered, "Agus geall crìochnaich air an fheasgar bhriagh seo (And I'll promise you a far better end to this lovely evening)."
The girl's father objected. He argued that Jamie was not a member of Clan MacKenzie and held no sway in the matter. Colum replied that he was the grandson of Seaumais Ruaidh (Red Jacob), his own sire and therefore had a right to involve himself in clan business.
Colum's word being the end of the debate, he allowed the substitution and let his nephew choose his punishment.
Jamie said that since it was only Ràibeart (Rupert) he would take dùirn (fists) instead of the strac (strap).
This was meant to rile Rupert, but the man still felt bad for having to beat up his cousin and good friend. Torn between pleasing his boss, Dougal, and his desire to go easy on Jamie, Rupert sighed when the latter gave him an understanding nod. He would perform his duty. Instructed by Dougal to look to him for prearranged signals, Rupert began.
Dougal, wishing to inherit the Lairdship when his brother passed, and before Hamish was of age, was fiercely jealous of anyone who might pose a threat to his plan. The redheaded lad, who stood before him now, was his only real competition. And here was the young upstart: showing mercy, making jokes, and having the entire clan eating out of the palm of his hand. Well, thought Dougal, he would make sure the lad was taken down a notch or two. Rupert was his strongest fighter. He would enjoy seeing his nephew bleed.
Reluctantly, Rupert gave Jamie his best, administering a bloody nose, a cheap shot to his dislocated shoulder (on Dougal's command), and finally knocking him to the floor.
Jamie shook his senses back into place and stood up, Murtagh coming to his aid.
"If ye'd wanted a beating, I'd been happy to oblige ye." His godfather told him ruefully.
"Aye, but... you might have done some real damage." Jamie smiled in jest.
"Watch yourself, laddie," warned Murtagh, "Your uncle is up to something."
The younger man nodded. Stepping away from Murtagh and toward his uncles, Jamie, favoring his shoulder, gave Colum a bow and Dougal a wry nod. He turned back to Murtagh and the two made their way out of the hall. As they passed Claire, Jamie glanced imploringly at her. She caught his meaning and made to leave as well, though by a different route so as not to draw attention herself.
Murtagh escorted his young charge to the kitchen and helped him into a chair.
"I'll go find Mistress Beauchamp," he said. However, just as he got to the doorway the healer herself appeared.
"Mistress," he said and bowed in greeting, but she dashed right past him without a word, bent on reaching her patient.
Murtagh witnessed his godson's bloody face form a broad smile and his eyes, formerly dulled by pain, brighten at the approach of the comely healer. 'Mm, hmm,' he thought to himself, 'So that's how it is. Well, now, there's that riddle solved. And a fine lassie she is. Just right for the Laird of Lallybroch.' With that, Murtagh left them alone.
A moment later Mrs. Fitz bustled in. Claire requested of her some supplies, and she obligingly waddled off to get them.
After washing her hands and sterilizing a cloth in boiling water, Claire began to tend her patient for the … how many times had she mended him? She had lost track.
She began with his face and asked, "Why did you do that? Take that girl's punishment? Do you know her?"
Jamie thought he might have heard a hint of jealousy in her voice. He replied, "I ken who she is." He grunted as Claire pressed the cloth to an open wound. "Haven't really spoken to her, though."
"Then why?" she inquired, feeling inexplicably relieved that he wasn't attached to the girl.
"It would have shamed the lass to have been beat in the hall before everyone that knows her," he attempted to explain. "Taken a long time to get over it." He grunted again as Claire seemed to be quite adept at finding his most painful contusions. "It's easier for me," he clarified, "I'm sore, but I'm nae really damaged. I'll get over it in a couple days."
Mrs. Fitz returned then. "Oh, here ye are, lad. Rinse your mouth with this," she stirred a concoction and handed him a cup of it explaining, "It'll cleanse the cuts and ease the pain." Turning to Claire, the matron informed her, "Willow bark tea, with a bit of ground orris root. Ground up well."
"Tapadh leibh! (Thank you)," replied Jamie, sincerely, looking up from his chair at the kind housekeeper.
The old woman's eyes softened and filled with tears, likely at the remembrance of her lost daughter who suffered at the hands of that man. "What you did was kindly meant, lad. Laoghaire is my granddaughter, ye ken?" she added for Claire's benefit, then, covering her face, turned to leave before her tears fell.
When Claire finished cleaning him up, she instructed him, "You can take that bandage off your shoulder in the next two days."
A look of confusion flashed over Jamie's face, "Would it not be easier if you did that?" He had to admit to himself that he had been looking forward to having her perform that service for him.
"Yes," replied she, "but I'll be gone. I'm leaving with Mr. Petrie tomorrow."
"Ah," he said rising to his feet, "I see. Well...," he was markedly deflated. Reluctantly he conceded, "Then perhaps this is good-bye."
"Yes," replied Claire, happy to be going home but somehow regretting it at the same time.
A door squeaked in the next room and Claire could see the young girl from the hall, obviously wishing to speak to Jamie.
"I think someone would like to speak with you," Claire informed him. "Alone," she added in a teasing voice. Jamie might not have intended his gallant gesture to be anything more than that, but she sensed the young man would be in need of wife soon and a good prospect was about to present herself to him. Even though the thought grated on her, she would not get in the way. She would be returning to her own time and her own husband soon, or so she hoped.
"Aye," he replied reluctantly.
"Well," she said somewhat sadly. He was the closest thing to a friend she had made here in this time, "good-bye to you, then, Jamie."
"Safe journeys to ye, Claire," he pinched out, not exactly displaying the sentiment on his face.
She walked out of the room and he let out a long sigh. He was now left alone with the young lassie he had so valiantly saved from embarrassment who might now be expecting more from him than he had bargained for. His feint to impress Claire with his benevolence and receive once again her healing touch, had backfired on him. Claire was leaving and Laoghaire was standing eagerly in front of him. Not exactly the ending he had imagined for this evening.
A/N: I paraphrased a line from "No Country For Old Men" by the Coen brothers. Scottish translations found at great scot blog.