Jamie blinked in astonishment. "T-t-tomorrow?!" he stuttered.

This was quite the turn around. All his hopes and dreams, which he thought had been completely dashed only minutes before, were suddenly on the cusp of fruition.

But wait! This was not by her choice. She was not marrying him because she loved him, as he would have hoped. She would be marrying him because she had to, to save her life.

Dougal laughed at the rapid transformation of his nephew's expression: hopeful eagerness quickly supplanted by confusion and maybe a touch of anger.

"Yes, laddie," Dougal explained, "The only way to avoid turning her over to Randall, to do with as he pleases," these words were calculated to rile his nephew, "is to turn her into a Scot, then she falls under Colum's protection."

"Into a Scot?" Jamie queried with knitted brows.

"Yes, to become a Scot she must marry one," explained Dougal. "You," he emphasized poking a finger into the young man's chest.

Jamie thought for a moment. "What does Claire think about all this?" asked he with compassionate concern for the woman he loved.

"Go ask her yourself," replied his uncle. Then throwing a thumb over his shoulder he said, "She's over yonder, reading the marriage contract and weighing her choices - which are few."

Jamie stepped back, hung his head and placed his hands on his hips. "So, I don't have a choice here?" Jamie asked looking back up at Dougal.

"What?" replied Dougal indignantly, "Would you prefer I marry her to one of them?" He gestured to the other men standing just out of earshot. Jamie's gaze instinctively followed the direction indicated by his uncle, but in no way was he considering his uncle's suggestion.

His rationality had come back to him and he was convinced that Dougal had something up his sleeve. It was absolutely unfathomable that his uncle would willingly offer him all he ever wanted unless there was something in it for himself.

As if the man had read his mind, Murtagh, who had been present for the entire conversation, motioned his god son aside.

"I told ye he was up to something," said Murtagh, crossing his arms.

"Aye, what is it?" asked Jamie, "I canna see it."

"Ye canna see it because ye donna want it," replied Murtagh, "All ye want is Claire and I don't blame ye for that. Think, laddie - what is it that Dougal wants?"

"I thought he wanted Claire," replied a bewildered Jamie.

"Aye, he does," retorted Murtagh, "but there's somethin' else he wants more 'n any woman."

After a moment of contemplation, Jamie exclaimed, "The Lairdship!" as the realization struck him.

"Once ye are married to a sassenach," Murtagh explained the obvious, "MacKenzie blood or no, the clan will never have ye as their laird."

"Ye ken I've ne'er wanted Leoch," Jamie said with disdain, practically spitting out the name.

"Aye, but Dougal doesn't ken that," Murtagh pointed out, "He hates havin' ye 'round Leoch. He was livid after your triumph at the oath taking. I'm sure he is all proud of hisself for his scheme." Murtagh narrowed his eyes in the direction of the war chief.

"Are ye suggesting I turn him down just to thwart his plans?" Jamie questioned accusingly. Gesturing toward the copse he added, "and send Claire into the vile hands Randall?"

"No! Of course not," Murtagh asserted, surprised his god son would ever think that was his meaning. "Marrying Claire is likely to be the smartest thing you'll ever do," he quipped, "I just wanted to be sure you kent what Dougal was up to."

Jamie nodded his head apologetically. "Taing dhut (thank you)," replied he. Then after a pause he confessed, "Now I need to figure out what to say to Claire. Not exactly how I'd hoped to propose to my wife."

….oOo….

Dougal and the others were gathered around the wagons talking and drinking, prepared to move on to the next village. However, they were awaiting Claire's decision.

As Claire's husband it would be Jamie's vocation to protect her and care for her and ensure her happiness. Jamie contemplated Claire's situation and tried to think of how he could help alleviate her understandable anxiety.

He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two drinking horns and headed off towards the copse. If he were her right now, he would want a drink.

He found her in the woods and sat down next to her. She said diffidently, without looking at him, "Dougal wants us to be married."

"I know," Jamie replied sympathetically. She looked up at him, astonished by his nonchalance. He handed her a cup.

"And you're willing?" Claire inquired incredulously, taking the proffered drinking horn.

"Well," Jamie replied cautiously, "ye've mended my wounds more than once," he filled her cup and then his own. "I feel I owe ye something for all that. Besides, what kind of friend would I be if I left ye to that mad bastard Randall?" He leaned closer to her and clinked her cup with his. They both drank.

Claire shook her head. "But surely a young man like yourself..." she probed, "well, isn't there someone else that you're interested in?" She did not want him to marry her if there was another girl he preferred instead.

"Oh," it took him a moment to catch her meaning, "a-am I promised?" He chuckled, "No. No, I'm not much of a prospect for a wife."

Claire shook her head at the ridiculousness of that statement. Jamie would make an ideal husband for any woman. He was kind, compassionate, strong, intelligent, confident, and, of course, exceedingly handsome.

He continued, "I mean, I've nothing more than a soldier's pay to live on. Then there's the minor difficulty of a price on my head. No father wants his daughter married to a man that might be arrested and hanged any time. Did ye think of that?"

Claire dismissed the matter of outlawry as a minor consideration, compared to the whole monstrous idea.

Jamie figured he would lay it all out for her, giving her all of the reasons she shouldn't want to marry him. But who was he kidding? He didn't want her to back out. Sure, he wished they were getting married under better circumstances, but he certainly wasn't about to let her marry anyone else. If this was what was required to save her from Randall then he would do it – gladly. He already knew he wanted her and he was pretty well convinced that she did not dislike him. As a matter of fact, they got along rather well and there seemed to be a certain chemistry between them. He had felt it and he was pretty sure she had felt it too. Once they were married, then he could work on winning her heart.

"So that's it then," she conceded, somewhat jaded, "As far as you're concerned, we can just start the honeymoon tomorrow?"

Nodding, Jamie replied, "Aye, whatever suits you." Luckily he pulled that off as he intended: sounding more sympathetic to her predicament than displaying the true excitement he felt coursing through his veins at the thought. He rose to leave.

He took a step to walk away but she stopped him with another tentative question, "Well, doesn't it bother you that..." she hesitated, not really wanting to point out the elephant in the room but felt it must be addressed, "that I'm not a virgin?" Her eyes met his.

Jamie looked toward the others, wanting to make sure no one was close enough to hear his reply. He looked back at her with his own measure of embarrassment. "Well, uh, no," he humbly confessed, "So long as it doesna bother you that I am." Claire blinked in astonishment. With a quirk of his lips, Jamie leaned a little closer and, in an attempt to make light of the situation with his trademark sense of humor, he added, "I reckon one of us should ken what they're doing." Then he walked off toward the others, allowing her time to contemplate this new information.

As he approached the group of men Murtagh caught his eye. Jamie shrugged skeptically and joined them silently in their wait.

Not too long after, Claire came walking deliberately toward them, papers in hand. Jamie hoped she had made her decision and that it would be in his favor. However, she walked right past him and through the midst of the men, making eye contact with no one. Without missing a beat, she took the bottle of whiskey right out of Dougal's hand and kept on walking.

Obviously, her need for alcohol in this situation was greater than Jamie had thought.

….oOo….

Early that evening, with the papers duly signed, the troupe made their way into the village. They went straight to the local inn and secured accommodations, including a room upstairs for Claire that would become the honeymoon suite the following night. After settling her things in her room, she made her way cautiously down the inn's steep stairs and over to the bar in the taproom.

"Whiskey," she said to the barman.

Looking over her head at Dougal, he received a nod and obliged her with a bottle and a glass. After the first shot burned a path down her throat, she began to feel somewhat calmer, alcohol induced though it may be. The more she drank the better she felt.

She took note when Dougal and Ned left the tavern. Gradually she became aware of raised voices coming from the direction of the stable yard toward which the pair had departed. She assumed they were speaking with the bridegroom and from the sound of it maybe he wasn't too pleased with the situation either.

"Stick to it, lad," she murmured, and took another gulp.

Sometime later, Claire was dimly conscious of a hand prying her fingers open in order to remove the glass. Another hand was steadyingly under her elbow.

"Christ, she's drunk as an auld besom in a bothy,"said a voice in her ear. The voice rasped unpleasantly, Claire thought, as though its owner had been eating sandpaper. She giggled softly at the thought.

"Quiet yerself, woman!" said the unpleasant rasping voice. It grew fainter as the owner turned to talk to someone else. "Drunk as a laird and screechin' like a parrot – what do ye expect –"

Another voice interrupted the first, but Claire couldn't tell what it said; the words were blurred and indistinguishable. It was a pleasanter sound, though, deep and somehow reassuring. It came nearer, and she could make out a few words. She made an effort to focus, but her attention had begun to wander again.

….oOo….

"We do not have much time," Ned Gowan explained, standing where he and Dougal had cornered Jamie in the stables, "Captain Randall is expecting Mistress Beauchamp to be delivered to him tomorrow. Now, we are all about to embark on a boat built entirely of paper," he tapped his portfolio which contained the signed documents, "The letter of the law is the only thing keeping Claire out of Randall's hands. And so, if it is to work, then we have to follow it to the letter." The lawyer went on to explain more specifically, "The marriage must be consummated right away, and witnesses must swear that they were present in the building if not in the room itself."

A look of shocked horror crossed Jamie's face and he glanced over at Murtagh who was also present, "Does Claire know about all this?"

"She has no say in the matter," put in Dougal.

Murtagh crossed his arms and stepped in front of him. "I thought you didn't want with rape, Dougal," he chided.

"No rape," Dougal countered, "Persuasion." He pushed passed Murtagh and approached Jamie placing a hand around his shoulders. "She's a smart lass. She'll see the reason for it in the end, but there can be no secret agreements between the two of ya, you saying that you have when you have not. Besides, I can think of worse things in my lifetime than holding onto that pair of sweet ciochan (breasts), plunging my cock..."

"Yeah, enough!" roared Jamie, offended by his crude words. Then, squaring his shoulders and looking his uncle straight in the eye, he declared, "If Claire does become my wife, I'll thank you to stop talking and thinking of her like some common whore." He stormed off toward the stable yard.

"If?" Dougal said grabbing his arm. "If?" He confronted his nephew, stepping in front of him. "There is no if about this, laddie," he said, getting in Jamie's face, "Now, she took a few blows at the hands of Randall and kept silent, which is a fair sight more than I 'd expect of any ordinary woman. But you know Randall. You know what he's capable of. What do you think'll happen to her if she falls into his hands again?"

Jamie turned away to think. He knew he couldn't let that happen. He may not like the current situation for her sake but marry her he would - to save her from that man.

Turning back to his uncle he said, nodding with resolve, "I'll do it." He nodded and then a mischievous smile broke across his face, "But I have three conditions."

"Ah, Christ," Dougal swore, turning as if to walk away, and tipping his hand to his underlying plan he exclaimed, "it would be easier if I killed ye both."

"Much harder to explain," flipped Jamie, knowingly, "First, we must be wed properly - in a church - before a priest."

At this, Dougal sighed and called Willie over. He sent the lad off immediately with the mission of finding the village priest. However uninvited, Rupert and Angus sauntered over as well to hear the rest of the conversation.

"Second," he said, while he searched through his sporran, "I want a wedding ring made for Claire - from this." He produced a key.

When Rupert and Angus were tasked with this job, Jamie proceeded to give them more specific instructions, particularly that the business end of the key needed to remain intact.

Turning back to his uncle, "Third," Jamie insisted, "the future Lady Broch Tuarach deserves a real wedding dress." Surprising the other men, and for some mysterious reason, Ned volunteered for this mission. He had a mischievous grin on his face as he set off to accomplish his task, mumbling something about knowing precisely where to get what was required. The remaining three stared after him for a moment.

After all was settled, Dougal departed as well to help Willie and secure the church for tomorrow's ceremony.

Jamie crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame of the stables next to his god father. A pleased look graced his face as he watched the others run off to do his bidding.

"Looks like Dougal is willing to do just about anything to get you out of his way," commented Murtagh with a playful jab in Jamie's ribs.

"Aye," replied Jamie, "I figured I would take advantage of that while I can."

Affecting a deep bow, Murtagh teased him, "Is there anything I can do for ye mi-laird Broch Tuarach?"

"Well since you asked," Jamie said in all seriousness, "Do you think you could find me some decent wedding clothes, including the proper plaid?"

Murtagh smiled kindly at his god son and answered, "I'll see what I can do for ye," and he too left.

Jamie turned back into the stable. He saw to it that the horses were well fed and watered and settled for the night and then he made his way to the taproom.

As Jamie walked into the room, he heard a sound that never failed to make his heart sore – Claire's laughter. Smiling, he turned toward the source. His smile fell however, when he saw the corpulent silhouette of the landlord standing over her, prone on the bar, yelling, "Quiet yerself, woman!" Not at all pleased, Jamie came up behind the man as he complained to the barman, "Drunk as a laird and screechin' like a parrot – what do ye expect –" Jamie interrupted the man, forcefully but quietly, so as not to disturb his fiancé. "I'll thank ye not to speak to my betrothed in that manner." The landlord apologized profusely and backed away when he turned to see the six foot four, broad shouldered, red headed Scotsman scowling down at him.

Jamie looked down concernedly at Claire. In her pursuit of intoxication, she had passed out on the bar. He bent over and whispered reassuring words in her ear as he scooped her up. He cradled her in his arms and she nestled contentedly into his chest as he carried her up to her room and laid her on her bed. He stood over her for a few minutes taking in every feature of her beautiful face. He gently swept some errant hairs behind her ear and bent down to kiss her forehead wishing her 'sweet dreams.' After tucking the blankets snuggly around her, he glanced around the room where tomorrow they would spend their wedding night. He backed reverently away from the bed and out of the room and closed the door quietly behind him as he left.

….oOo….

When Jamie returned to the taproom, he was met by Murtagh and Ned who insisted he come and have a few drinks with them. Sitting down at a table, they congratulated him on his impending nuptials, and the desirability of his betrothed, and regaled him with advice regarding the performance of his marital duties.

Rupert and Angus rose from the tavern's gambling table a little while later and came to join them. Angus was upset at the loss of a particular round of poker but Rupert forcibly shushed him up before he could get into the details. They too passed on words of wisdom, peppered with ribald humor, mostly at Jamie's expense.

Jamie, however, needing some real advice, bravely confessed his virginal state of ignorance which resulted in even more ribbing. The young bridegroom took it all in stride.

The only useful bit of information that Jamie gleaned from the evening's conversation, and not very encouraging was it at that, was Murtagh's off handed comment that, "women generally do not care for it." As the evening progressed, these words were reiterated in one form or another by Rupert and Ned as well. This disheartened Jamie somewhat. He found it depressing that an event that was greatly anticipated to bring immense pleasure to himself was likely not to bring his partner any enjoyment at all. He wondered how he could take delight in the act if the woman he loved did not. He had to remind himself, however, that it would have to be done to make the marriage legal and keep her safe from Randall.

….oOo….

A/N: As some of you may have noticed I relied quite a bit on Diana Gabaldon's wonderful words here in this chapter. Quotes were taken from 'Outlander' the novel, Chapter 13 'A Marriage Is Announced'. Again, thanks go to Great Scot Blog dot com for the Gaelic translations.