Chapter 2: Braving the Cold

Disclaimer: Diana Gabaldon holds all rights to Outlander

My tears were still going strong when Jamie came back with a jar of something sitting on a tray, along with some dinner. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of eating any of the food, even if I was starving. I wanted to make him pay for the mistreatment of my body at his hands, or more correctly, his belt.

I ripped off his shirt and dropped it to the floor. "I don't need this anymore." Pulling the blankets up around my ears, I glared at the big bully.

Jamie set the tray on the bedside table, and picking the shirt up, tugged it down over his bare chest.

He smiled at me, and gestured to the food. "'tis good and hot. The matron here has a touch when it comes to cookin'."

I narrowed my eyes, as I spouted, "Take it back. I told you, I'm not hungry."

His face scrunched up, now clearly concerned. "Ye got to be puttin' somethin' in yer stomach, woman. Ye've not eaten now since early morn. It pains me to see ye act this way."

"You should talk! It pains me … my rear end is so sore, it's ruined any appetite I ever possessed."

Raising his eyebrows, he quipped, "Is that so? Weel, I've had my share o' strappin', and sore arse or no, my appetite ne'r got any less because o' it."

"Well, goody for you. Now leave me alone." I turned my face into the pillow to shield myself from seeing him so goddamned cheerful.

Putting the tray on the bedside table, he acquiesced. "All right then, I'll take ye at yer word. I don't agree much wi' yer ponderins, but ye are a woman, and Murtagh says women are verra hard to understand. I see the truth of it now."

I heard Jamie's boots clomp around the other side of the bed, felt the covers being lifted from me, and a weight descending on the mattress. I faced him, my head at an awkward angle to peer over my shoulder. He was kneeling on the bed, leaning over me with the jar in his hand, opening it.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I bellowed.

He held up his large fingers coated in a clear-looking gel. "'Tis a balm to ease yer sores. I'm no a monster. I canna let ye lay there wi' yer flesh raw as it is. The matron swears this here to healing burns and such."

Jamie's hand made gentle contact with my wounded bottom, and I flinched ... not so much from the sting, but from revulsion. "Can't you get it through that thick, Scottish head of yours, that I don't want you touching me?"

He sprang off the mattress, jostling the bed with the movement, muttering in Gaelic.

I watched as he paced in front of me, his boots thudding heavily along the stone floor. Wagging his finger at me, he took a deep breath to calm himself, and instead of delivering a tirade, he placed the jar next to me and turning in the opposite direction, stomped out of the room.

A few minutes later, there was a light rapping at the door, and a woman's voice asked, "Might I come in, Mistress Fraser?"

Sure why not? Everyone here at the inn knows he walloped me with his belt. It's certainly no secret.

"I can come back a wee bit later, if ye like."

"No, it's perfectly all right. Come in." She was a woman, and I needed to vent to someone of my own sex.

A grey-speckled head appeared at the open door. A grin and intelligent blue eyes accompanied the salt and pepper hair. "Jamie fetched me to see to ye. I'm the matron of this establishment. My name's Lorna MacBride. I made that balm sittin' beside ye. Heaven forbid that I should force my will on ye, but the balm is verra useful. It can take the ache right outta yer bones, and make the healing start op quicker than the shake of a lamb's tail."

One of her eyebrow's cocked. "So, d'ye mind if I apply some to ye?"

I sighed in resignation. What did I have to lose? My pride was already gone; there was nothing left but a badly bruised ego, and a tender derrière.

"Be my guest," I replied.

At the first touch of the gel, I was amazed. It certainly was as soothing as the balm of Gilead.

She hummed while she administered to me. "How does that feel now, Mistress?"

I huffed slightly. "You may call me Claire, seeing as you have intimate knowledge of my private parts."

Lorna chuckled lightly, circling the bed to speak to me. "Ah, I can see ye have a wit about ye. I ken ye have quite a temper as weel. We could hear ye clear out back at the stables, when ye were a'hollerin' in yer distraught situation. I couldna imagine yellin' such things at my husband, even when he tanned my hide."

I sat up part way, resting on an elbow. "Do all the men here beat their wives?"

"Weel, now, I wouldna put it that way. It'd be more like persuading the woman to lend an ear to her spouse. Leastwise, I've not had the strap to my bottom since I was a new bride. I learnt to obey … right quick ye might say."

She canted her head, and with a slight upturn of her lips, said, "Don't judge your man too harshly. Jamie didna look too happy about whalin' on ye. Pitiful sight it was. I've known the lad since he was a wee tyke, and ne'r seen him hurt as much as a fly …" Winking at me, she continued, "… unless it was wearin' a red coat. It wouldna ever happened if Dougal and that nefarious lot hadna been here. 'tis plain as the nose on yer face that he's verra much in love wi' ye. He's downstairs now, poor thing, swimmin' about in a bottle o' whiskey to wash his sadness away.

"He told me how worrit he was about ye. But … from what I've seen, he didna lash ye half agin as hard as he might. And ye've seen, I'm sure, how big and strong the man is. Ye've only a few welts here and there, and maybe a bruise or two."

"That's more than enough. If he loves me like you say, how could he do that to me?"

Her eyes rolled about in her head. "Oh, lass … it's just the pride of the menfolk. They canna stand a woman who objects to their infallible orders."

"Well, I won't follow his orders like some mindless ewe. I'm perfectly capable of thinking for myself. He will not hold his omnipotent scepter over me."

With her brow furrowed, Lorna remarked, "Have ye ne'r been strapped afore, then?"

"No, and I don't mind informing you that I don't intend to ever go through that humiliating experience again."

"All right. Seems as though ye've made op yer mind about how yer marriage should be, and I wish ye luck wi' that."

She turned toward the door, ready to leave. "I best be goin' now. Dougal and his pack o' ruffians will be poundin' their fists on the table, demandin' more ale."

I quickly grabbed the fabric of her skirt. "Wait … before you go, may I ask what you put in that ointment?"

"Aye. A trader from Edinburgh visits now and again. He had this verra peculiar plant called, aloe, I believe it was. He said it grows in the western parts of America, so it does. It has fleshy stems liken to leather, and when ye break one open, this thick jelly squeezes out. I have some in my window box that maybe ye can root for yerself. Ye canna plant it in the cold highlands though. It needs lots of heat and light. It grows in the desert, ye ken."

"Thank you, Mrs. MacBride. I would very much appreciate that. And thank you for your kind help."

"'Twas no trouble atall. But, can I give ye some marital advice? Don't hang onto your anger for too long. It will only grow and fester, and eat at yer gizzard, making ye miserable. Ye need to forgive the lad, if ye don't wanna see him takin' to the spirits too often. Have pity on the poor sod. He only did what all the menfolk do. He didna know any other way. Maybe ye can teach him gentleness as it were."

I thought he was a gentle soul, until he removed his belt.

Placing a cup and the ewer of water on the night table, the woman touted, "I think ye best save some water for the night comin' on. D'ye want me to take the rest o' the food back to the kitchen, then?"

"Yes, please."

Lorna clicked her tongue, and shaking her head, departed the room with the tray carefully balanced in her hands.

Jamie avoided my company until way past the rising of the moon just as I wished he would. I also hoped he had drunk himself into oblivion. When he entered through the doorway, however, he appeared to be as sober as a judge—drat him. I'd say that for him; he could hold his liquor.

He stood there with that stupid smile on his face, and he was looking at me with those clear blue eyes, and that perfectly formed nose, and that strong jaw, and those warm lips. I wanted to kill him for looking so … so … scrumptiously edible.

Not saying a word, he sat on the edge of the mattress; his fingers instinctively seeking my hand. I immediately recoiled, and pulled it out of his reach. I heard an exasperated breath of air escape his lungs and he stood, looking down at me. The smile was gone. He licked his lips, and gazing at the tiled floor, offered, "I came back to tell ye how sorry I am for whippin' ye. I know it was wrong o' me, but it was expected by the others, ye ken? I didna want them to think less o' me … that I couldna control my own woman. I needed to keep Dougal away from ye as weel. Will ye no forgive me?"

"That I can do … in time, James Fraser. But don't think that I'll ever forget this."

He nodded. "Aye. So … I was thinkin' I would go back to the kitchen and fetch us a bit o' bread and such."

"No … I told you, I'm not going to eat."

Jamie huffed in frustration. "I swear to god, woman! Are ye goin' to starve yerself just to spite me? That doesna even make sense. What does eatin' havta do wi' gettin' yer arse whipped?"

"Nothing! That's the point!"

His hand combed through his coppery tresses, and he shook his head in anger. "Stars and stones—ye've gotta be the most stubborn lass in the land. Maybe I shouldha beat ye harder. Yer husband did ye no favor by sparin' the rod."

I sat up, even though it pained me to do so. "That's right. He never laid a hand on me, unlike you—you bloody, Scotch bastard."

"Oh … so now, it's the bloody, Scotch bastard, is it?"

He started pacing again. "I've ne'er met a woman wi' such a bad temper."

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ—you're just now figuring that out?"

His voice rose. "Next, ye'll be tellin' me that ye regret takin' those vows in the kirk."

My lips tightened, and then I hissed between clenched teeth, "Every minute of every day."

"Ye're my wife, Claire, in the eyes o' the clan and the church."

"It was a mistake … a huge, bloody mistake. Here, take back this ring!" I wrenched off the wedding band, and threw it at his feet.

A look of horror overcame his features. "So, it's come down to this, then … I was foolish, thinkin' I was in heaven these three days past. And now, a sad day it is to find the woman I marrit has no feelin's for me atall."

"That's right. I was dead for three days, and now I've been resurrected."

With a pained expression, he bent down and picked up the small metal circle, scrutinizing it for a few moments. Looking up at me piteously, he placed the ring in his sporran. In a quieter voice, he said, "'Tis gettin' late, Sassenach, and we'll be needin' our rest."

Walking toward the bed, he stopped in shock as I stood, and stripped off one of the blankets, flinging it at him. "Oh no, you're not. Did you really think you were getting in this bed with me?"

Jamie marched off to a corner of the room, and yanked off his boots, pitching them forcefully against the wall. He lay down, wrapping the blanket about him, muttering once again in Gaelic.