Chapter 13: Alas, Poor Lass

Disclaimer: Diana Gabaldon owns all the rights to Outlander.

The girl quickened her pace, obviously attempting to evade me. I yelled to her, "No, wait!" That only served to spur her on faster; however, I was determined to thwart her plans of escape.

Breathless, I caught up with her, and grabbed her arm. She jerked it away from me, and backing against the wall, whimpered, "Dinna hurt me ... please."

"I'm not going to hurt you, even though you definitely deserve it."

She looked down at her hands fisted in front of her. "I'm sorry. I didna mean for things to go that far. I only meant to scare ye. I was in love wi' the lad, and ye op and marrit him straightaway when ye kent I did. How could ye be so cruel?"

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! I had no choice in the matter. Truth be told, I had no plans whatsoever to marry at all. It was Dougal. He forced me, saying it would protect me from Capt. Randall. And a fat lot of good it did me.

"In any case, you need to know that your father would never allow you to marry Jamie. He is after all, still an outlaw, and at the time wasn't in his uncle's good graces."

"That wouldna mattered to me. I loved him, and now 'tis all gone to nothin' as he's marrit to ye, and I'm stuck wi' an auld goat as Colum betrothed me to. 'Tis all your fault."

My blood was beginning to boil by this time. "My fault? Now see here, young lady, Jamie is the new Laird, and he can bloody well have you flogged for your misdeed. You can bet that he won't be lenient or step in for you this time."

Laoghaire burst into tears. "I willna bother ye anamore; I give ye my word. Only please dinna tell my father 'bout it. He'll strap me for sure."

I pulled her to me, embracing her. She was a heartbroken little girl, who in a jealous snit did something horrendous, not realizing the consequences. "I forgive you," I murmured. "And I won't tell a soul about this conversation."

Two maids passed us in the corridor, eyeing us curiously.

The girl drew away slowly, and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. "Thank ye, Mistress."

Jamie stomped back and forth in our room, clearly agitated. "What d'ye want me to do 'bout it, Sassenach?"

I thought for a moment. "Well, maybe you could find her a suitable husband. The mate that Colum picked out for her apparently is old enough to be her father."

His head nodded in agreement. "Aye, she's a bonny lass, that much is true. Rupert nor Angus would object."

Rolling my eyes, I countered, "I said, a suitable husband ... a young stud, so she won't feel like she's doing penance."

His eyebrows rose to his hairline. "A stud, ye say."

"Yes, you know very well what I mean—a young, virile man."

A smile spread across his lips. "Ah, I see … ye've forgiven her then."

"She was barely sixteen, Jamie. And she was in love with you. Loaghaire was entitled to a few mistakes at her age."

The smile vanished, and with his voice rising to the rafters, he sputtered, "Mistakes? Och—ye nearly burned at the stake because o' the lass."

"But I believe she is truly contrite. There's no need for her to suffer for the rest of eternity over it. If she finds someone of her own to love, then she can get on with her life without looking back with regret."

I heard him sigh; certain he meant it for my benefit. One hand was raking through his hair in exasperation. "Ye drive a verra hard bargain, woman. I'll ask Fitz if there's a lad as would do."

"Thank you." I reached up on my toes and kissed his cheek. Not satisfied, he grasped me about the waist, his mouth finding mine promptly.

Apart from his duties, there was ample time for a few diversions. Jamie had horses in his blood, and spent many hours in the stable with Murtagh and Auld Alec. Despite his new standing among the clan, it in no way stopped those two from their constant teasing. I thought that maybe the familiarity of the men was also an enticement to the stable, and made the whole situation seem more normal.

And then there was the falconry—a recent sport he had taken up. It was not without its dangers. He came in one day to the surgery, with blood dripping from an ear and redness encroaching on the perimeter of his iris.

"What happened?" I squawked.

"Och … the silly bird was havin' a bit o' fun, and began peckin' at my ear. I took offense when he took aim at my eye tho', and stopped him afore he blinded me."

"Well, thank god for that."

I got out a square of cotton and dabbed at his wound with some alcohol, applying pressure to stanch the flow of blood. Then, lifting his eyelids wider, I peered at his iris, shaking my head. "It appears worse than it is. You'll be looking out of that red eye for a few days, but it'll clear up on its own. Just stay away from the damned bird. You're lucky he didn't enucleate your eye and eat it for his dinner."

"Aye."

"Yes—eye! You need to be more careful around that bloody buzzard."

Two days hence, Mrs. Fitzgibbons came to me in the surgery, which was very unusual for her. I quickly turned from my work table to greet her. "Ah … Fitz. What brings you to the surgery? Are you unwell?"

Her face was simply beaming. "Oh no, Mistress. 'Tis only that I wanted to tell ye in person as I found a lad for Laoghaire, I have."

I lay the bottle of arnica I was holding on the table top, and smiled at her. "That's wonderful news. When may I meet him?"

"He arrived late this morn, and he'll be in the dinin' hall t'night. I'll seat him next to the lass so they can acquaint themselves wi' each other, ye ken."

Her enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself growing excited myself. "What's his name?" I asked.

"Kyle Fitzgibbons MacGregor. He's just nigh on twenty years old. A strappin' young man, he is. Good lookin' as weel, if I may say so. He's my cousin Lorna's youngest bairn, just back from schoolin' in Edinburgh. I believe he'll do just fine."

Curious about the boy, I leaned back against the counter, and inquired further. "What's he like?"

"Weel now, he's full o' the mischief, but no mean-like. And he's a wee bit o' a charmer, much like yer Jamie."

"Good. I'm glad … I mean that sincerely. I'm very grateful to you, Fitz."

She bowed graciously. "Think naught o' it. 'Twas the least I could do, seein' as Laoghaire caused ye so much trouble and all. Weel, I best get back to the bakin' and such. Shall I see ye t'night then?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I'll be on my way. Good day to ye, Mistress." She bustled out the door, humming a tune.

The water I was drinking bypassed my esophagus, and slid right down my trachea, when Kyle entered the hall alongside Mrs. Fitzgibbons. I coughed and sputtered as Jamie patted me on the back.

She did not exaggerate one iota in her description of her kinsman. He was at least as tall as Jamie with a mane of thick dark hair, a cleft in his chin, and eyes in a color that bordered on turquoise.

When my fit of coughing ceased, I caught a glimpse of Laoghaire locking eyes with the handsome Romeo. She didn't seem to have escaped his notice either, and Mrs. Fitz' plan to seat them together was a moot point, as Kyle appeared to be gravitating toward her regardless. The attraction was duly noted by everyone in the hall. I would now add matchmaking to Mrs. Fitz' plethora of talents.

Dinner was nearly over when Mrs. Fitzgibbons sauntered to where we sat at the table, with Kyle and Laoghaire in tow. She grinned like a proud mother hen, and nodding at us, declared, "Master James and Mistress Claire, I am most pleased to introduce my kinsman, Kyle Fitzgibbons MacGregor, from Dingwall."

Kyle stepped forward, and bowed formally. He looked up, and spoke. "At yer service, milord and ladyship."

I smiled at him, knowingly, and commented. "Master MacGregor, Mrs. Fitzgibbons told me all about you. And I see she was not boasting in the least. You do have the most beautiful blue eyes. I'll bet you dazzle all the ladies with them."

He turned toward Laoghaire. "Not since they lit opon bonny Laoghaire. I have eyes only for her now."

He'd colored a bit from my comment, but not nearly as much as Jamie, who cleared his throat, and asked, "How was yer journey from Dingwall?"

"I havena been home as yet. I came op from Edinburgh, and stopped off to visit my sister, Kenna, in Beauly. She told me a messenger had arrived that day saying as, if she saw me, Kenna was to tell me as I was needed at Leoch. And I rode straightaway here, and glad I am as I did so."

"Well, we're certainly glad you came." I canted my head at my husband who was mysteriously quiet. "Aren't we, Jamie?"

He sat there like a bump on a log, so I poked him with my elbow. He woke from his trance, and mumbled, without an ounce of enthusiasm, "Oh … aye. We're verra pleased to be acquainted wi' ye."

Kyle backed away, bowed again, and taking Laoghaire by the hand, went back to the table. Laoghaire's eyes widened, and her face reflected her feelings of, I can't believe he's all mine.

Mrs. Fitzgibbonsshrugged, sighed in satisfaction and once again dashed off to supervise the clean up, I supposed.

I leaned toward Jamie, and whispered, "That's my idea of a suitable, young, virile husband. I hope her ex fiancée soon gets the missive you sent, breaking their contract of marriage."

He rudely answered with a, "Mmnph."

I was happy for them both, but Jamie seemed somewhat irritated. Later, when everyone retired for the night, I asked him what was bothering him.

"It's that MacGregor."

"What about him?"

Jamie untied my laces in an agitated manner. "I saw the way ye looked at him."

I stepped out of the skirt, and folded it over the quilt rack. "Well, yes. He was very good looking. And just because I'm married to you, doesn't mean I've gone blind in the interim."

"Och—so ye admit it. Ye fancy him?"

"I don't fancy him. I just said he had beautiful eyes."

"And what o' my eyes?"

"Your eyes are beautiful as well."

"Ah, but no like his."

"Of course not. It's like comparing apples to oranges."

"And ye prefer …?"

"Jamie Fraser. You are a jealous fool. He's just a boy, not even twenty yet."

He began removing the pins from my hair, then threw his hands up over his head. "If ye remember correctly, I was only three and twenty when ye marrit me!"

I started to laugh at the look on his face; it was flushing scarlet.

"Sassenach, ye find this funny, d'ye? And now ye're laughin' at me?"

"I most certainly am. You're being utterly ridiculous. I'm in love with you, blue eyes, Titian hair, jealous streak and all." I pulled down the covers on the mattress. "Now come to bed, and stop acting like a bloody arse."

"Mmnph," he muttered, as he yanked off his shirt and slung it onto a nearby chair. He sat at the edge of the bed, staring into space, his chin perched on one fist. "I am a bloody arse, and make no bones about it. Ye're mine, and the thought of ye lookin' at another man, makes my heart crack clean down the middle wi' the weight o' it. I canna help it; I love ye so."

I heard a loud whoosh of air escape his lips, and I scooted to his side. "Jamie … no one can ever take me away from you. I'm yours, and forever will be yours."

With one finger, I tipped his face toward me, and gazed into his eyes. "They are beautiful. And do you know why? Because they're your eyes … because I can see the love in them. No other Scotsman will do for me. Now come to bed, my Scotty. I want you."