"Oh my," is all my Sassenach has to say about the kiss? I will have to try again, try harder. That is certainly not the desired response, not the one I was hoping for. I hold her head in my hands, my thumb caresses her cheek. I look deep into her eyes and show her again, how I truly feel. My look reminds her how verra much I care for her. How verra much I love her.
She sees. She closes her eyes and sighs. I ken she has waited a lifetime for this moment. I will go slowly. There is no need to rush.
I start by kissing her. I tilt her head, move slowly and gently down her long, lovely neck, move under her chin, her throat and then back up the other side; kissing and nibbling as I go.
Claire moans, softly.
This is the response I am expecting. The one I want to hear. I nibble her ear, gently pulling the lobe with my teeth. "I want you, Claire," I whisper. There is a huskiness to my voice. "I can scarce draw breath for the wanting of you." I kiss her softly on the mouth, then once on each of her closed eyelids, ending back on her lips for a long, lingering kiss.
Claire moans my name, each time I place a kiss and then sighs when I end the one on her lips. "Tell me you want me, Claire." There is an urgency to my voice as I whisper the words. I grab a handful of her hair, use it to pull her head to the side and gently bite her neck and shoulder.
"Oh," Claire almost sighs rather than whispers, "Oh, I want you, Jamie. Please...please want me...oh, don't stop..." She pleads. Her hands grab my arms, fingernails digging through my shirt and into my flesh, like she is holding on for dear life.
"Tell me you'll have me, Claire." I whisper to my Sassenach. My hand moves down her neck, my thumb skims her throat, down her chest and comes to rest on her breast. I continue to kiss and nibble her neck as my thumb begins to rub her through her shirt.
"Ooooh, Yes, I'll have you James Fraser." Claire pants. "I need you." pant "Now." pant "Please." Her hands release me. She untucks her shirt and begins to unbutton it.
I stop kissing her, step back and watch. My hands drop to my side.
In a matter of moments she has unbuttoned and removed her shirt. She lets it to fall to the floor. She has some sort of garment made of lace on now, that was under the shirt. It is not a shirt, not a shift, most definitely a lace bodice of some kind without sleeves, no lacings, no ties, and short; it does not cover anything but her breasts. I can'na stop looking at her. Her perfect, pale skin, her verra wee, sheer, lace bodice...I start to reach out to touch her bare skin...
Claire becomes shy or embarrassed or both. She takes her arms and lays them across her chest. Trying to cover herself and the wee bodice. Her eyes are pleading with me...to be pleased, to want her just the way she is. As if I could ever find her less than everything my heart desires...
I remove my shirt, to help her feel easier, and step closer. I reach my hand out, slowly remove one of her hands, bring the wrist to my lips and gently kissing it. I place her palm on my chest, over my heart. I do the same with her other hand. Her eyes follow each movement. I then reach out and trace the bone from her shoulder to the base of her throat.
Claire's eyes lift meet mine and slowly she runs her tongue over her lips. My breathing hitches as I watch her. God, I want her.
My index finger draws a line from the base of her throat down to the space between her breasts. Where the verra sheer lace meets in a V.
Claire inhales and gently sucks then bits her lower lip. I gasp in response and wet my own lips. She has my undivided attention.
The tips of my fingers follow the top of the lace until my hand is over her breast. My hand cups her breast from underneath, feeling the weight of it in my palm. My thumb gently rubs, feeling for her nipple though the lace. When I find it, and rub it, her nipple hardens, responding to my caress.
Claire slowly removes a hand from my chest, reaches up and slides the ribbon that is attached to the lace, off her shoulder.
I do'na ken why but I am mesmerized by this action. I watch as the ribbon slides down her arm. I remove my hand and the lace that covers her breast falls away. I now have Claire's naked breast to gently cup in the palm of my hand. I can not take my eyes from it as my fingers gently pull the nipple and I hear Claire's response to the touch. Oh, I like that wee noise.
I look up and Claire barely nods and I ken. I reach up and softly, with the fingertip of my other hand, I brush her shoulder and the ribbon slips off and down her arm. I look back into her eyes. I am completely under her spell and she kens I am verra happy to be there.
She lifts her arms up from under the ribbons and the lace falls down, uncovering her other breast. The lace does not fall to the floor, however. Something is holding it in place. She reaches behind her and the next thing I ken, her lace bodice falls to the floor in a puddle at her feet. I am moved beyond words when I look at her. She is a Goddess. I will do anything for her. Anything she asks.
My Sassenach must read minds. She says, "Take me to bed Jamie. Give yourself to me tonight. Please. I want to know the feel of you. I will hold you to nothing. I will let you go when the time comes for you to leave. No tears. Just give me tonight in exchange for letting you go forever."
"I am yours, completely, tonight. Do with me as you desire, Claire." I reach over and turn the kitchen light off, then bend and place her nipple in my mouth and begin to lick, suckle and bite until Claire's knees start to buckle and she can stand no longer. I pick her up in my arms and take her to bed. She is mine Randall, and yes, Claire kens it. She is mine and I am hers.
I open my eyes to darkness. The only light is from my bedroom window. I sit beside him as he lay sleeping. This amazing man has been made just for me. The moon casts a shadow of light on Jamie and his beautifully chiseled body. I want to touch him but I know that my touch will wake him. I want him to sleep just a little while longer, then I will wake him and he will take me again because I will ask him to. He has given himself to me tonight. Completely. He has held nothing back. I know it was not an easy thing for him to do. He loves me, but he is a man of honor and must leave. Soon. And I must let him go. Tonight is his gift to me. I have a gift for him as well. I take his hand in mine and whisper softly, "I, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, take thee, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, as my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death us do part," and I gently kiss my husband on the lips. This will be my little secret. My gift. Tonight he belongs to me. There will be no other for me after he is gone. His gift to me is his love and his body. My gift to him, though he will never know, will be his child.
I open my eyes and there is my Sassenach, naked, holding my hand and kissing me. I could become use to waking in this manor. I take my free hand, run my fingers through her hair until my hand is behind her head and hold her in the kiss. I sigh when it is over. A kiss like that should never end, I think. "What are you do'n awake, Sassenach?" I ask and run my hand down her arm. She is as cold as that ice cube.
"I need you Jamie." She states, simply, and runs her fingers up my leg and discovers I need her as well. She swings her leg over my hips and with the help of her hand, positions herself and I slip inside. She is ready. What has my Sassenach been up to? She sets the pace, slowly and gently at first, we are a crescendo in motion with a grande finale that leaves us both spent and panting. She collapses on my chest in a spent heap. I find the quilt that had been pushed aside in our passion and cover her with it, wrapping my arms around her, to keep her near me, safe and warm.
Morning comes all too soon.
If nothing else can be said, Randall is prompt. 9 am sharp there is a knock on the door. Claire is running around the flat like a loon, throwing things into an "overnight bag". I go to the door, and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Lambert.
"Disappointed are you?" he asks as he shuffles past me and into the flat. "Were you expecting someone else?"
"The question is, just where have ya been, Lambert?" I ask and grin waiting for his answer. "I'm think'n Randall might have gotten it right. Do ya have a lady friend?" I turn and watch him walk into the living room. He eyes all the packages, and then glaces back at me. Ooch, Claire and I forgot to put them away. "Do ya no have your key then, Lambert?"
"What did Claire do? Buy out Kenloch Anderson's?" He shakes his head and heads to the kitchen. I ken, for coffee. "And yes, in answer to your inquiry, I do have my key. I thought it unwise to use it, to just barge in. I thought it best to knock," he says over his shoulder.
I am still watching Lambert as he walks away and start to close the door, when it abruptly stops. I turn and there is Randall, his hand on the door, with another grin I do'na care for, on his smug face. I really want to punch him sometimes and I have to mentally tell myself to unclench my fist. "You're late," I state and walk quickly to the kitchen, leaving Randall to close the door. I breathe a sigh of relief, Claire has picked up our discarded clothes from last night. I then walk to the settee to pick up the packages. Randall, damn him, has noticed them and watches as I gather them up and take them back to the room I share with Lambert. I walk back out to start down the hall to Claire's room and notice Randall is leaning against the wall, yet again, watching me. Smiling, like he kens something. "Do ya no have something else ta do? Like get a cup of coffee, or something?" I ask.
"No," Randall says and that smug smile gets even bigger. Now I really want to punch him.
I knock on Claire's door even though it is open. She looks up from the bed, scattered with clothes, and smiles at me. I look back at Randall, still watching, I enter the room and close the door behind me. I hear Randall laugh out loud. I, again, have to mentally tell myself to unclench my fist. Both hands this time. As I walk, Claire turns to face me. I place my hands on her waist, pull her to me and she lets me kiss her. Her arms go up around my neck and her fingers play in my hair on the back of my neck.
"Lambert's back," I say and kiss her.
"I heard," she replies and kisses me back.
"Randall's here" kiss.
"I heard" kiss back.
"We forgot" kiss.
"What did we forget" kiss back.
"the packages on" kiss.
"Packages on what" kiss back.
"On the settee" kiss.
"Oh" kiss back "Ooohhh. Oh well" kiss back again...
"You picked" kiss.
"Picked?" kiss back.
"Up the clothes" kiss.
"we left in the kitchen?" kiss back.
"yes" kiss.
"yes, this morning" kiss back.
"Clever lass" kiss.
"Yes, I know" kiss back. "I got you to kiss me, when you did not want to, remember?"
"Yes, you did but Randall helped ya" I smile and kiss her again.
She looks up at me confused.
Claire is finally packed, the car is loaded and we are off. No sign of Lambert's friend. And Lambert has skillfully managed to avoid answering any of our questions about the mystery friend. Claire gives him a copy of our 'itinerary' and says we will be back in two or three days. Before the 31st.
An hour later, we are at Culloden. Randall's knowledge is unbelievable, better than any book I could find and read. I almost do not need to read anything at the exhibit. He explains the maps showing the British strategic plans and where the Scots line up and were fired upon by cannons.
Claire asks "Is the portrait of Prince Charles a good likeness, Jamie?" as she stands in front of it. "He has a very weak chin and I do not much care for his eyes. They look shifty."
"I have never see a portrait of him nor have I ever met him. His father fled to Italy. That is where he met and married his wife and she gave birth to their two sons. I do not think Charles has ever set foot on Scottish land," I tell her.
"That's what history tells us. Bonnie Prince Charlie, the Pretender, was in fact, born in Italy." Randall adds. "When he arrives in Scotland some 9 months prior to Culloden, it is the first time he has ever stepped on Scottish soil. It might explain why he made some of the strategic mistakes he made, in choosing battle locations. Or perhaps his Generals were just idiots, or both. Before the battle here is over, and mind you it only takes the British an hour to kill almost 2000 Scots, Prince Charles is whisked away. He makes it back to France, disguised as a woman's hand maid, and from there back to Italy. He never leaves again. He is buried at St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, with his father, mother and brother.
We walk through the rest of the exhibit, mostly in silence. I took hold of Claire's hand when we first enter and never let go of it. I need the feel of her, her strength, to get through this. 2000 Scots dead in less than an hour. Almost unbelievable.
When we leave the exhibit, Randall takes us down a path. "This is where the Scots line up, waiting for Prince Charles' orders to attack. Charles is back there," and he turns and points. "Not on a hill where Charles can look down and see the battle. This is flat land, he can see nothing but the backs of his men. He has no idea what the British are even doing or how they are moving. This is basically open boggy land. And the battle does not take place until after 11 am. There is no fog for cover by that time and it has started to rain. The British shoot grapeshot through the cannons and use bayonets when they get in close. This was a death trap for the Jacobite. A great many of them fled, only to be hunted down by Cumberland, whom they aptly nickname 'The Butcher', and were killed.
We reach the path marked for the Memorial Cairn and the clan graves. I find the MacKenzie clan marker right away. I kneel and say a prayer for my Uncle Dougal, Rupert and Angus whom I ken are there; my Uncle Dougal was a staunch Jacobite supporter and Rupert and Angus would follow him anywhere. Claire has walked away and stops in front of another marker just down the path. She is just staring. I ken which marker she has found. I walk over and place my hand on the Fraser Clan stone. I wonder if my Godfather Murtagh is here. Probably not. He had no love for the Jacobite. He probably left long before this battle, for France; a cousin is a wine merchant. If I had not arrived through the stones, and learn what I now ken, I probably would have gone with him.
"If I come back here the day after you return, you will be buried here, won't you?" Claire almost moans, glancing at me then quickly looks away. "Why does Prince Charles pick this of all places. The Scots don't stand a chance, yet they are so bloody honorable, they stay, fight and are slaughtered." She turns and walks into my arms and I can feel her body shake from her sobs. At least I have a clean handkerchief to offer her.
"Claire," I start. "Randall and Reverend Wakefield have given me so much information. If I take this back, then maybe you will come the day after I leave, and none of this is here, because we stopped it, aye?" I kiss the top of her head. "Maybe, just maybe, I can help change this piece of history and maybe I could come back to you when my work there is done. Would ya want me to return to ya, Claire?" I ask and I hold my breath waiting for her answer.
She stops crying and lifts her head. "I don't want you to go," she sniffs. "Of course I would want you to come back, if you could. Do you really think you could, stop all this, I mean?"
"I do'na ken Claire, but Randall must because he is sharing his knowledge. What would be the point, if I could'na make a difference, aye? Maybe that is why I was sent here." I say this to help make her feel better. I turn to Randall, "It's possible, aye? I might be able to change this, change the outcome? Possibly?"
"I don't know. I'm not really sure if we would even know if you changed anything, Jamie," Randall says and shrugs his shoulders. "I am not sure what Claire and I would even remember. If you go back, and change things, then history records the new changes as truth; the old history is no longer even history, understand? Claire and I would only know the new history. Then you have to ask yourself do Claire and I ever really meet you? We are walking a philosophical tightrope here and I don't have the answers to any of it, Jamie." Randall reaches up and scratches his head. "If you go back, and let's say, a man dies that had not died in the original history, what happens to the family he never has a chance to start. He dies so he never marries, and his children are never born, and the children's children, and so on down the line? Do they never exist? Or the reverse, someone survives that died in the original history...do you see what I am saying, Jamie? I am afraid I do not have those answers for you."
"The first question is, can I really change history by going back? Can I make a difference?" I ask to no one and hug Claire tightly to me.
"Let move on, shall we? I think we should make for Prestonpans and Falkirk. They are early battles and the Scots soundly defeat the British and General Cope. Maybe we can learn something there that will help win here," Randall suggests. We find the car and drive away.
We stop for a quick lunch in a small tavern, although I do not have much appetite, outside Perth and make Prestonpans by mid afternoon. There is not a lot to see. That's where having a man like Randall with us, makes all the difference. He talks us through the issues and the battle. We stand on the high ground the Jacobite held. We can see the bog and past that to where the British were encamped. He tells Claire and I how the British were caught completely unaware when an young lieutenant, who was raised on a local farm, knew a way through the marsh that separated the foes. At 4 am, the Jacobite crept through the fog, cross the bog on a small path, and attack the unaware British at dawn. 300 British soldiers died and only 30 Scots.
"This first confrontation was pivotal to the Jacobite early successes. It help raise the Jacobite numbers from 2000 men to 6000 at their strongest." We walk back to the car and decide to drive back to Edinburgh and find someplace to stay the night. Randall says he comes often enough that he kens a small, homey Bed and Breakfast. We drive there and find the matron, a Mrs. Rose, has two rooms available and will serve us tea in the Library, when we are ready. Randall and I will share a room. Claire is just across the hall.
Claire steps into her room and I follow and place her overnight bag on the bench at the foot of the bed.
"You look worn out, Sassenach. This day has been hard on ya, aye?" I ask. I am worried for her. I ken what see'n the Fraser Clan marker did to her heart. It did the same to mine. Though I am not afraid to die; I am afraid to leave Claire.
Claire says, "Absolutely No Regrets, Jamie. None. If I had the choice, I'd do last night all over again. To have you for one night is worth a lifetime of separation rather than never having you at all." She placed her hand on my cheek and kisses me. "Please know that. It's just knowing that you might be one of the 2000 lost lives, in that field, under that rock..."
It just about tears my heart from my chest to see the look on her face. "Maybe a hot bath, like Frank suggested last night, might help ya feel better. Then we can find someplace to have supper. And maybe a wee dram or two..." and I smile at her. "If ya want your tea, I can bring it up to ya and you can have it while ya soak."
My wee fierce Sassenach will not let this make her sad and says, "I just need a half an hour to freshen up. That's all. I will meet you and Frank downstairs for tea, I promise." She pushes me out of her room, into the hall and closes her door soundly behind me.
Randall and I wash and go downstairs to wait for Claire. Mrs. Rose's daughter, Millie seems to ken Randall verra well. When she comes in with the tea tray she stays and sits and chats with us. I examine Mrs. Rose's very poorly stocked book shelves, unless you happen to be like my sister Jenny, and like Gothic and Romance novels. What is it with women? Knights in Shining Armor, damsels in distress and duels. I shake my head and click my tongue.
I, instead, choose to look out the window into the back garden. They have a handsome, large, black dog. I open the door and walk out. I am enthusiastically greeted by the great beast. He comes to my waist when standing on all four feet and has the head the size of a small horse. He has a long, black, shaggy coat, a happy tail and ears that perk up when you whistle. He must weigh a third more than Claire; he must be 10 stone at least. He scampers off, comes back with a hefty stick in his mouth and drops it at my feet. I throw it. He runs, fetches it, bringing it right back and dropping it at my feet. I must throw it a dozen times, before he finally lays down, rolls over and allows me to rub his belly. He is beautiful.
"He's what's called a Newfoundland. They are from Canada. Water dogs. Search and Rescue mostly. They are sweet and gentle. Almost look like Lions, don't they?" I turn and see Claire. She walks over bends down and begins to scratch behind his ear. "He is lovely. Frank's friend says his name is Stormy and he is 3 years old."
I reach over and tuck her hair behind her ear. I like it when she wears it down. All those lovely curls about her face and down her back. She has to wear it up when she is at work, in a bun, she says. I do not like her beautiful hair all tied up where I can'na see it. It is a little short, only just passed her shoulders. If I were staying I would ask her to let it grow longer.
She looks over at me, pats Stormy on the head and then stands up. I wipe my hands in the damp grass and stand up as well.
"You look very nice in your new kilt and shirt, Jamie. The sweater was a good choice, as well. That blue looks very nice with your eyes; makes them stand out. They are the deepest blue I have ever seen. A girl could get lost in them," Claire says and straightens the sweater's collar. "You look very dashing, I must say." She turns and walks back toward the house.
Claire has on a verra bonnie dress. It is red and fits her well in the bodice. The top is cut low enough I can just see the tops of her breasts. The skirt is full and Claire makes it swing as she walks away from me. Such a lovely plump arse. I run past her to open the door for her. She nods her head and smiles at me as she walks inside.
Once inside, she turns to Frank and says, "Are we really having tea? I think I'd like something a little stronger, if I may. Would you be a dear and pour me something?"
Frank smiles, nods his head. There is a small bar. He pours Claire a scotch, neat, walks back and hands it to her. He looks past Claire, at me and smiles. "Can I get you one as well, Jamie?" I nod and in no time I have a glass in my hand as well.
Claire walks up to Frank's woman friend, Millie, extends her hand and says, "Hi. I'm Claire. A friend of Frank's. Have you met my friend Jamie yet?" She turns and holds out her hand to me. I walk towards her and take hold of her hand, turn and smile at Millie. I turn to Claire and say "Millie and I have already been introduced. Frank made the introductions when Millie brought in the tea things. Millie's mam is Mrs. Rose. She helps her mam with the Bed and Breakfast. She kens Frank because when he comes to Edinburgh to do some research or lecture, he usually stays here." He turns to Millie, smiles and says, "Have I got that right, Millie?"
Millie smiles back and says, "Perfect." She does not remove her gaze from me. She verra obviously looks me over from head to toe. "I like the kilt. Most men don't wear them anymore. You seem comfortable in it. Do you wear one often?"
"Every day. Almost since the day I was born," I respond and smile back at her.
"Oh?" Millie says. "What is it you do exactly, that allows you to wear a kilt to work then, may I ask?"
"I am a farmer. Though for awhile I was a soldier. Now I am on my way home." I reply. "Claire and Frank here, are helping me get home."
"Really?" Millie comments. "Then Claire is not your girl? You're single?" and she quickly shifts her look to Claire and back to me.
Frank walks up and puts an arm around Millie's waist and answers for me. "Jamie and Claire are newly into their relationship. Leave them be, Millie. Get your things and we'll walk down to The World's End and have drinks and some supper. My treat." Frank winks at me, turns and watches Millie walk out of the room.
Supper is wonderful. The pub serves dishes I ken well. Rabbit stew, fresh bannocks, pigeon pie, lamb shank, roasted potatoes, and my favorite, oyster stew. My mouth waters.
During the meal, Claire laughs and asks, "Do you eat any vegetables at all, Jamie?"
I shake my head, wrinkle my nose and make a choking face. "Never," I reply. "Love fruit, but no vegetables, except maybe carrots."
"Carrots? Is that is because you are part horse?" Claire asks and smiles. "You say you can talk to them. I'd like to see that."
Randall and Millie decide to stay at the pub and listen to the band. 'The band' is a group of musicians playing together, although I do not recognize any of the instruments. There is a singer but I can'na understand the words to the song. The 'microphone' makes the music verra loud. Once, I was hit on the back of the head with an ax and now do'na really appreciate music the way I use ta, so Claire and I choose to walk back to Bed and Breakfast. It is a beautiful night. The streets are busy with people, quickly and quietly making their way home. We hold hands and walk slowly. Words are not necessary. We come to a park and Claire and I find a bench and sit.
"Tell me about your life at Lallybroch," Claire asks.
I am always happy to tell her about my life, when she asks. Lallybroch would be one of my favorite subjects. I babble on and on, not realizing, until I see Claire shiver. She has on a sweater, but it is not keeping the chill of her. I stand up, remove my coat and drape it over her shoulders. I hold out my hand to help her up but she shakes her head 'No' so I sit back down next to her, closer than before, put my arm around her and pull her in tight, next to me. She lays her head on my shoulder and sighs. I lean back and look up at the stars.
"See that one?" Claire asks as she points to a set of three stars. That's Orion's Belt or The Three Kings. The three stars are Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka. When I was a young girl, one of my most precious memories, is leaning against one of the pyramids, at what ever site my Uncle was working at, and looking up into the heavens. Lamb can name them all; probably taught them all to me, I am sure at, one point or another. I have forgotten most of them now. When you are gone, Jamie," and Claire's voice hitches as she speaks, "I will look up and find Orion and imagine that somewhere, where ever it is you are, that you are doing the same, and that we are still connected." She grips my hand that is intertwined with hers a little harder.
"Will you let me kiss you Claire? I want to verra much." I almost choke as I speak the words.
My Sassenach raises her face to me and offers her mouth in reply. And we drink from each others lips like two nomads of the desert, finally finding an oasis in each others souls.