"She's alert, back up!" A male voice called out. A flood of murmurs followed as the group gave the brunette air. The world was spinning as Molly's eyes slowly opened. The only thing her mind could focus on was the intense throbbing coming from her skull. For a few short moments, she had forgotten what had happened. She thought she was home or at least her version of home. Her eyes regained focus, and she found herself greeted with men's faces peering down on her. Mixed looks of curiosity and concern, but it only left the female with a feeling of insecurity and unease. She hadn't paid much attention to who these men were, but it wasn't until she tried getting to her feet that she learned who they were.

Molly felt herself nearly collapsing to her knees from the dizziness still playing in her head. Quickly one of the men reached out, wrapping his arm around her waist as she latched onto his arm for support.

"Are you okay, miss?" The man asked with what felt like genuine concern.

"I'm fine." The American responded softly. She didn't think much of it at first, but after a moment, it hit her. The man who was holding her did not carry a Scottish accent. Her brows knitted together as she slowly looked over at the male. Younger in age, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes darted down to his attire. It was the eye-catching red coat that gave her pause. He wasn't wearing a red coat; he was a redcoat. They all were.

"Miss?" The soldier asked again but to no response. It was as if she were in a daze. Molly could see his lips moving but heard nothing. Her mind was trying to catch up until finally she just blurted out."What year is it?"

"She's mad." One snickered from the back of the group. Though, the one who had stepped forward to help her didn't find it nearly as humorous.

"Are you daft? She has a concussion." He responded sternly, bringing his attention back to Molly. "My apologies. We have been away from home far too long, and it seems some of us have forgotten how to use manners. It is 1743." The younger male responded with a smile.

It was so Absurd. How could any reasonable person believe this? But she did, how could she not? The evidence added up. The brunette took a long hard look at the soldiers. It took everything to keep her jaw from dropping.

"I have to ask—" The blonde English male slowly started. But before he could complete his thought, they were interrupted.

"Move." A stern voice called out, overpowering everyone else. "I will shoot each one of you." Like the red sea, each male parted, opening it up for the other male approaching on his horse. He was the one in charge.

Molly found herself backing up slowly as the man on the horse approached her. Her green eyes looked up at him as he peered down at her with stern hazel eyes. No words exchanged as he studied her closely. The scowl resting across his face didn't budge. The male removed one leg at a time before dropping down from his steed. His stare never left the American. Closing, the distance between them. He reached over, cupping her chin his hand. Twisting her head this way, then that as if she were a cabbage he may buy. Suddenly his hand dropped, and he introduced himself to the young woman.

"Captain Jack Randall at your service." Finally, introducing himself. A moment passed as the silence grew between them as Captain Randall becoming visibly annoyed. "This is the point in the conversation where you introduce yourself..." His eye's narrowing down at her.

The brunette's eyes grew for a moment before fumbling to give him her best half-ass curtsey. That's what you were supposed to do right. "My apologies Captain. My name is Molly."

Randall cocked a brow. Waiting for her to finish, but he received nothing. Rubbing his chin, he finally spoke up, "My patience is growing thin. Your last name."

This guy is a joy, isn't he? Molly had thought. She was about to open her mouth with a snarky comment but quickly stopped herself. Her eyes glanced around at Randall's men, which by the looks of it, they seemed to fear him even the polite blonde boy became stoic and rigid, unwilling to glance at her. Slowly her stare fell back on the Captain. "…. St. Claire Captain." She replied quietly.

"Tell me, Miss …. How does a lovely young woman such as yourself manage to find herself alone in the Scottish Highlands with very little of anything and without shoes?" He asked with a reserved curiosity. Randall nodded his head towards her appearance. A half-smirk slipped across his lips as his head tilted slightly to the side while studying her. "Interesting…" He added as an outward thought. "Your accent, if I'm not mistaken, is North American slightly non-rhotic … you're a long way from the Colonies."

Molly felt thrown off. This Captain Randall was sharp, highly educated, and truthfully, he frightened her. She needed to be quick with her lie, perhaps something simple would carry her further. Clearing, her throat the brunette spoke up. "You're correct Captain. I come from America. My place of birth is the Colony of Massachusetts. My Grandmother lives in Inverness. We got word of my Grandfather passing. I chose to make the journey to come live with her. While on my travels, I got robbed, and the men responsible took everything."

Randall's expression stayed stoic, mulling over what the young woman told him. It was hard to tell if he even believed her. Molly only hoped he did. Suddenly, the captain reached out gently, brushing strands of her long hair from her face."How did you acquire such a nasty bruise?"

"When I was at the stones, I heard voices. At the time, I hadn't known it was your men. I tried running and hit my head on a boulder. I woke up to these fine soldiers helping me." It felt like her heart was pulsating out of her chest. Would he accept her answer? What would happen if he didn't?

"I'm not surprised by the Savages that live in these parts are more than unsavory." His sharp words struck Molly harder than she could show.

Savages? The very word left an "unsavory" taste in her mouth. "Captain, if you don't mind, I would like to continue on my travels."

"Well, we certainly don't want to keep you any longer… perhaps one of my men could assist you in case you run into more troubles?"

You could see the relief washing over the American. The sooner Molly could get away from these English and captain Randall, the better. "That's not necessary—" Immediately, cut off before she could finish her thought.

"Cunningham, Forward!" Randall ordered. "I want you to escort Miss St. Claire to Inverness and…" A quizzical look presented itself on the Captain's brow. Throwing his hand up to silence his men. The faint sound of yelling in the distance and with no warning gunfire. About seven redcoats on horses were spotted heading into the trees. In a single moment. Everything changed drastically. In the chaos, Randall ordered the rest of his men to go after their comrades. Like any person hearing gunfire, Molly instinctively chose not to go in that direction. The young woman backed up and went running in the opposite direction, and with what felt like a death grip. Randall swung around, wrapping his hands tightly around her forearm, violently pulling the brunette in close to him.

A sinister smirk danced across his face as his gaze slowly fell to Molly. "Well done." He started with his hold on her growing. "To think I believed you..."

"What are you talking about?" It was now Molly's turn to be confused. "Let go of me!" using her own hands to pry away his fingers but with little luck. Her struggle only infuriated Captain Randall further.

"Do you think I'm stupid? You set this up." He snarled.

"What—No – I didn't!" Molly couldn't even think straight. The sickening feeling in her stomach only grew, and the only thought racing through her mind was what the hell is happening!

"Enough!" Randall barked as he yanked violently on her arm, now dragging the poor girl with him. "You are quite the actress, but you're just another Scottish whore, aren't you?"

Up until this point, Molly was able to keep calm, not allowing her fear to control her actions. But now, it was different. The American knew Randall was going to kill her over something she wasn't involved with; it was becoming clear she had severely underestimated the Captain. Soon the two found themselves near the river hidden amongst the trees. Whatever Captain Randall had planned, he didn't want his men to see. There came a hard push against her back, and Molly found herself falling on her face.

"Get up." The English Captain requested a little too calmly for the American. Molly used her palms for support only to stumble to her feet with her back still facing Randall until he told her otherwise.

"Turn around."

She didn't want to, but she knew if she didn't, Randall would force her. Molly's lip began to quiver, and the tears she had been fighting to hold back now stained her cheeks. Slowly the American turned to face the Captain only to be greeted with his musket in her face.

"Who are you?" Randall asked. His hand steady and his stare emotionless.

"I told you…I'm an American—" She tried to squeak out through shaky words.

The gun still pointing at her, Randall let out a deep sigh before speaking again. "Be reasonable. You are only making this harder for yourself. Tell me the truth."

"I am!" She pleaded with him.

The Captain gave her a long hard look. "Alright." He finally said. His lips pursed together in thought. For a moment, the gun lowered. His head tilted before pointing the musket at her forehead.

Molly felt her entire body freeze. Every ounce of breath in her body was gone. Her green eyes widened right before she tightly squeezed them shut. She could hear his feet shuffling as he took a step back. Any second he was going to pull the trigger. Instead, she heard a loud thud. Her eyes opened to find the Captain unconscious on the ground and a large stone next to his head. She looked up to see a rather rugged Scotsman walking towards her.

"Time to go lass," The urgency in which he walked determined it was a demand and not a request. Molly was in such a shock she didn't ask any questions; she just followed her savior mindlessly. Her head turned slightly, staring at the unconscious Captain, knowing that he was seconds away from killing her. All she felt were the Strangers' hands on her shoulder, urging her to move a little faster. It wasn't until they reached the forests end where the man's horse was that Molly finally spoke up.

The stranger was about to help her up on the horse when Molly stopped him and turned around to face him. "He was going to kill me… and you saved me." She started. "Thank you." She offered a warm smile.

"Aye, thank me when we're away from here."

"Where are we going?" Molly asked as she perched herself upon the steed.

"Someplace safe." He was a man of few words. Molly's brows furrowed together as she was getting little to no responses from the man.

"Well, what's your name?"

The older male just stared at the back of her head. His eyes narrowed at her in annoyance. She asked a lot of questions. "What's yours?" he huffed in return.

"Molly." She replied happily, introducing herself.

"A fuckin hell… Murtagh, my name is Murtagh, ye happy now?"

"Nice to meet you, Murtagh. Now tell me where you're taking me." If this was some hostage situation, she would like to know.

The Scotsman let out a soft grunt before rolling his eyes, "Ye ask a lot of questions." There was a moment of silence between them before the male spoke up again. "Tell me what a bonny lass like you was doing alone in the highlands, and I'll tell ye where we're goin."

"It's a long story." She explained with hesitation.

The Scotsman shrugged his shoulders before letting out a deep breath, "Aye, but we got a long way to go."