#outlanderau

[darlinglavender]

i r o n d a d  o u t l a n d e r  a u ; 1743

[monigheandonn1743]

Ceart-leth

Previous Chapters

Chapter 6

They’d ridden in silence to the ravine. Jamie had been right, it wasn’t far from Craig na Dun, and when they’d arrived he’d left her seated on Donas as he’d filled her rucksack with large rocks and launched it into the middle of the deep, dark pool of water.

That had been hours ago, yet still they were silent, lost in their own thoughts, as the sun set and the night closed in around them. She was exhausted, hungry and uncomfortable riding sideways on a saddle designed for a man. But she didn’t complain, and as much as she longed to, she didn’t lean back against the warm, welcoming expanse of his chest.

Something had shifted between them at the base of the hill, they’d shared a moment and, for some reason, it had caused him to barricaded himself behind the titanium wall that shielded his mind. For the first time since they met, he’d been the vulnerable one, and she wondered if that had something to do with it, or if it had been her need for him to kiss her that had disturbed him.

Unlike Jamie, she’d never quite mastered the art of hiding her thoughts or emotions, and they were more often than not, written plainly on her face. If he’d seen that and hadn’t felt the same, it was understandable that he’d want to create some distance.

And he was right to do so.

She had only known him for a few hours, but she was emotionally wrung out, and had most likely sought some form of comfort from the only available source. It was psychology one oh one, the victim who forms an emotional attachment to their rescuer. If it wasn’t so awkward, she’d apologise and explain what had happened and why. But she wouldn’t even know how to start, so she kept her silence, and left him to his.

To compound all of that, she was still trying to process the fact that she was wrapped in his plaid, and had been almost every day for the past three years. It was mind boggling to think that he was wearing the exact one that she was, and that the two could even exists at the same time. How he must be feeling about that she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

What she was trying not to think about, and failing miserably, was how Joe had come to own it, and the real reason he’d given it to her.

Kilts had been banned after the rising of ’46, but it stood to reason, that if Jamie’s had survived, that like his father before him, he would hand it down to his son. Then he to his, and so on until it had been given to Joe, and ultimately her.

But why had Joe given it to her?

Was it just because she liked it? Had she been the first none Fraser to own it since Ellen had made it? Or had it been packed away with her diaries and come full circle? The next time a version of herself came through the stones would she bring two? Or had there always been two, but one had been kept or lost to age?

Christ, her head hurt!

Joe had said in his letter that he wouldn’t reveal her surname, that it was for her to find out for herself, and she was almost too afraid to admit that she may have done just that. It wasn’t until Jamie had said his mothers name that Claire had remembered that Joes mother was a Fraser, and she’d almost swallowed her tongue.

Up until that point, his mothers maiden name had been irrelevant. Though Joe said that they were related on his mothers side, she could have descended from a long line of female relatives, and her name could have been far removed from the line Claire was to become a part of.

But even she had to admit that it was all just too coincidental. At some point in her life she might just become a Fraser, but which Fraser would she marry? Having his plaid suggested that it could be Jamie, but he may have a brother or a cousin and, for reasons yet to be determined, they could inherit it.

On the other hand, she may never become a Fraser at all. It could be that she has a daughter that marries his son. For all she knew, he may already have a son to give it to, and possibly a wife at home waiting for him.

The thought made her feel sick and she groaned quietly, mortified by her behaviour. She’d practically thrown herself at him earlier and now she was all but planning their wedding! And all without really knowing a damn thing about him.

“Are ye well, Sassenach?” He spoke quietly, but they’d been silent for so long, that his voice startled her and she almost jumped out of her skin. “Easy, I dinna mean to scare ye.”

“Sorry. Yes, I’m fine, just tired.” She lied.

The truth was, she was so far from fine that it wasn’t even funny. She was beyond exhausted, emotionally raw, and losing her bloody mind. It was just too confusing, which was why she was trying not to think about it in the first fucking place.

“We canna be far off now, but rest a wee bit. I’ll no let ye fall off.” He promised, reminding her of their earlier conversation, as he shifted his arm and attempted to nudge her back against him.

She held herself ridged in her seat and shook her head. She was already getting attached to him, falling asleep in his arms would only make things worse.

“You’re injured, and I’m fine, honestly.”

“Are ye sure ye no a Fraser? Ye’v got the damn stubbornness for it.” He chuckled lightly. She wanted to scream. It was like he’d read her damn mind, but she simply took a deep breath and shrugged.

“I’m not sure of anything right now.” She murmured. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Aye.”

“You don’t have to answer and I don’t mean to offend you, but, what’s obstruction?” She asked quietly. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that he’d mentioned attempting to escape from Fort William. If he’d been imprisoned, he must have done something. But in this day and age it wouldn’t take much for a redcoat to lock up a Scot.

Obstruction sounded like a trumped up charge to her.

“It’s whatever Randell deemed it to be at the time.” He answered just as quietly. “In my case, I was obstructing him in his attempt to rape my sister.”

“What?” She gasped, turning her head so she could see him. It was dark, but she could clearly make out the ghosts of pain and anger lining his face. “I’m so sorry, Jamie. I shouldn’t have asked.”

She felt terrible for being it up, but he made that deep Scottish noise in the back of his throat and shook his head.

“Dinna fash. It was nigh on four years ago now. Just after I’d returned from Paris. It’s no but a memory.” He explained, as he settled further into his seat and pulled her against him, giving her no chance to refuse this time.

She gave in and nested against the right side of his chest, and rested her head. His arm tightened around her, and he was so warm, and smelled so good, that she instantly forgot every reason why she shouldn’t be doing this.

“When I saw ye by the stream with Randell, ye kent him by name. How, if ye’d only just arrived?” His voice was hesitant as he asked. But it was a valid question and she was surprised that he’d not asked her before now. For all he knew, she could have been in cohorts with Randell.

“One of the people I was travelling with is called Frank Randell. He’s a decedent of Black Jacks. When you both came across me at the stream I didn’t know what had happened and I thought he was Frank.” She told him, biting back a yawn. “Remind me, when we have a chance, and I’ll show you a photograph of him. They’re practically twins.”

“He’s a friends of yours then?”

“More of a friend of a friend. He knows Joe, so unfortunately I’ve had to spend more time with him than I would have liked. I don’t think the apple’s fallen very far from the tree there: he gives me the creeps.” She shivered and snuggled closer to Jamie, remembering the feel of Franks eyes on her as she attempted to wash yesterday.

“Were ye promised to him?” He asked. His voice was barely above a whisper, and she pulled back and frowned up at him.

“To Frank?” She gasped, disgusted by the idea.

“No. To Joe. Ye speak of him with fondness.” She laughed quietly, and shook her head as she snuggled back against his chest. If, God forbid, her and Joe had ever had a thing, it would have been the strangest form of incest she’d ever heard of.

“No. Joe’s my best friend and I love him like a brother, but it’s never been more than that.” She explained. “My parents died when I was five and the only family I had was my Uncle Lambert. He raised me until I was fifteen when he was killed in an accident. When I moved to Oxfordshire I had no one really until I met Joe. He’s older than me, and he took me under his wing. Him and Gail are getting married next April.”

“I’m glad ye had him.”

“Me too.”

She wanted to ask him if he was married or engaged to someone himself, but she was too afraid of the answer. After every disastrous date she had, Joe always promised her that’s she’d meet, and fall in love with the right man when she least expected it. She just hadn’t realised how literal he was being.

In the midst of the most earth shattering day of her life, when nothing but the magnitude of what had happened to her should be on her mind, she’d met him. Whether it was “romantic rescue syndrome” or honest to God sexual attraction, she didn’t know. But she was hoping she’d have time to find out.

If she discovered now that he had a wife she’d have to distance herself from him, and he was all she had in the world. She’d already lost Joe and Gail today, and she was too scared and too selfish to loose him too.

“If Randell imprisoned you once, how is it that you’re free and he’s the one in irons?” She asked, needed something less intimate to talk about. He remained silent for a moment, and then sighed, and she felt guilty for bringing it up again.

“When Randell an’ his men visited Lallybroch, it was under the guise of collecting provisions for the garrison at Fort William. As I’ve said, I’d no long been back from Paris. My da had been called away to London and he’d left me in charge.

“Murtagh, my Godfather, wrote him to tell him what had happened. He arrived back just after my second floggin’ with a pardon. Randell had no choice but to let me go.”

“Your second flogging?”

“Two hundred lashes.” He grimaced, “One hundred the day after I’d arrived, an’ another seven days later. He’d wanted to administer them the next day, but the doctor advised against it, an’ I suppose there’s no fun in floggin’ a dead man.”

“The fucking sadistic bastard.” She spat, horrified. What kind of monster would flog a man who had already been flayed to the bone? Who but the most sadistic fucker on earth, would flog someone a hundreds time, never mind two!

“I dinna ken what that is, Sassenach, but from ye tone, it’s no a pleasant thing to be.” He laughed, his humour slowly returning.

“A sadist is someone who gets…sexual pleasure from hurting someone, and I’m sure you know what a bastard is.”

“Aye I do. An’ I think ye’v the right of it…he’s a sadist alright. But what’s fucking?” He asked, so seriously that she almost choked on her own spit.

Bloody hell!

“Umm…it’s…well it’s…” She could feel a rare blush burning her cheeks and let out the most ridiculous, nervous giggle she’d ever heard. She was a doctor for God sake…well almost…but she should be able to explain it without turning into a child.

“That bad?” He laughed, tightening his arm around her.

“Yes, and not very ladylike at all. In the truest sense of the word it’s a…primal, rougher way of…making love. But it’s used as a way of expressing or enunciating a statement or opinion like…it’s fucking beautiful, or he’s a fucking idiot. Something like that.” She rushed out, her face on fire.

It didn’t help matters that she was sat so intimately between his legs, so close to the appendage that would be needed to complete the act, or that she wouldn’t say no if he asked for a demonstration.

It was only her imagination, but as close as they were, she could almost feel said appendage pushing against her hip, and fought to keep as still as she could, least she bang into it as the damn horse bounced them about.

“Ah.” He murmured, not helping her embarrassment at all, “ye right, it’s no very ladylike, but I take ye meaning.”

“Good. Now, to the second part of my original question.” She rushed on, “why have you captured him? Not that he doesn’t deserve much worse.”

From what she knew of Black Jack. He’d been almost a military hero before he’d died at Culloden. Frank had mentioned his time at Fort William and Wentworth, as well as his association with the Duke of Sandringham, but never anything about him being captured.

Or about him being a complete wanker!

Had something changed or had those blights on the family name been buried along with him?

“I’m no the only man he’s tortured. He’s pillaged, stollen, kilt and raped. Man, woman and child. He had protection for a time, but when it was uncovered it was put to an end. He’s a wanted man. When they came to arrest him, he escaped, kilt one of his men, an’ has been on the run ever since. He was spotted last week on Mackenzie lands, attacked a young lad, and we managed to track him down. He’ll most likely hang for his crimes.”

“That almost seems too quick and painless. Let’s see him flogged two hundred time, raped and then hung.” She huffed.

“Ye’v a bit of a sadist in ye an’ all, Sassenach.” He laughter, “we best all sleep with one eye open tonight.”

“An eye for an eye.” She huffed playfully. “So his association with Sandringham, that was uncovered?”

“Ah, ye ken about that do ye?” He asked rhetorically, “Aye, they canna hang a Duke, but he’s been stripped of his title and he’s a guest in the tower. I expect he’ll stay there for a good long while.”

Something had definitely changed. That wasn’t the history she knew. Sandringham had played a huge role in the Jacobite rising, riling up the Scots via the redcoats, and giving fifty thousand pounds to the Bonny Prince, before dying under mysterious circumstances.

She was too tired to try and puzzle it out now. But she would have to before she told Jamie about Culloden and the aftermath.

They fell silent again and, with Jamie’s warmth and the slow movement of the horse, she must have dozed. The next thing she knew, she was surrounded by rowdy laughter, and Jamie was gently nudging her awake.

“Ye back with me, Sassenach?” He asked quietly as he carefully untangled her from his arms.

“Yes. Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” She blinked, attempting to clear her vision, and take in her surroundings.

Just like her imaginings this morning. There was a group of highlanders sat around a roaring fire, laughing and handing around a skin, of what she presumed was whiskey. She smiled at the sight, then sat up away from Jamie and stretched.

“Ye needed it, lass. Ye’v had a hell of a day.” He told her softly as he shifted behind her and jumped down from the horse. “We’ll get some food in ye belly, then ye can sleep some more. We’ll no move till daybreak.”

“Ach, Jamie lad. Ye meant to bone a hoor, pay ‘er due, an’ leave ‘er behind. No keep ‘er. Did ye da no teach ye nothin’” a small heavyset man chided teasingly. Raucous laughter went up around the campfire, but Jamie remained silent as he reached up and lifted Claire down off the back of Donas.

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh as she thank him quietly. She’d grown up in a predominately male environment, bawdy humour was a staple part of her up bringing, and she thrived on it.

“House rules, I’m afraid, gentlemen.” She sighed, as she straightened her skirt and pulled the plaid tightly around her. “You break it, you buy it.” she shrugged and limped dramatically towards the fire.

There was a beat of absolute silence before a chorus of rambunctious laughter rose up and rent the still night air.

“Ah, Sassenach,” Jamie sighed close to her ear, “Dinna encourage em, lass. Rupert’s no joking, ye ken? One threat to ye virtue is enough for the day, aye?”

She stopped and looked up at him, shock, guilt and laughter battling for dominance on her face. Jamie shook his head, looking unimpressed.

Shit!

She’d promised not to embarrass him, and at the first opportunity she’d done just that. If she could kick herself in the arse she would. She was such a fucking idiot. She wasn’t in the twenty first century anymore, women didn’t just join in with the men here. She’d never been a wallflower, and she knew she could never just blindly follow a man, but she had to make an effort.

If and when she ever married, she could be herself with her husband and family, she wouldn’t marry a man that expected her to be something she wasn’t. But that time wasn’t now, and if nothing else, she owed it to Jamie to behave as a lady should.

Just like she’d promised him.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” She apologised just as quietly, “It won’t happen again.” She promised, but it was too late, the damage was already done.

“A hoor wit’ humour!” Rupert chortled, “I never heard a lass tell a joke afore.”

“Ye ken she’s no a hoor, ye cockwomble,” Jamie snapped, smacking Rupert across the head as he passed. “Come, Sassenach.” He was heading towards Randell, who was tied to a tree with two men standing guard. She followed him, walking properly this time and not daring to look at the men as she passed.

The smaller of the two guards approached Jamie and hugged him, patting him on the back as he did, never once taking his eyes off her. She could clearly see his assessment of her, but if he’d made an initial conclusion, she missed it. Like Jamie, he seemed to have a knack of hiding his thoughts too damn well.

“This the lassie tha’ castrated the bastard?” He asked roughly, looking at the bruises on her neck, as Jamie pulled away and stepped back. She wanted to reach up and cover them, but clasped her hands instead and bore the brunt of his gaze.

“Aye,” Jamie smiled, his bad humour hidden, if not forgotten, as he turned to face her, “Claire Beauchamp, my Godfather Murtagh Fraser.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She told him politely, and unsure whether to shake his hand or not, she kept hers clasped in front of her.

“Aye.” He nodded dismissing her and turning his attention back to his Godson. “I’ve sent Willie on wit’ word to His Grace, an’ young Callum on to Leoch. The Mackenzie will ready a cell, an’ we can keep him there until His Grace can rally a transport.”

“Aye,” Jamie agreed, “That was my thinkin’ too. Has he given ye any grief?”

“Ack, just whining about his bollocks. Ye did a fine job of mangling em, lass.” He praised. She bloody blushed again and unsure how to respond to that, she looked to Jamie pleadingly. He smirked and blinked at her owlishly again.

Is that supposed to be a wink?

God she hoped so, because if it was, it was the cutest damn thing she’d ever seen.

“That she did, I’d no mess with her after seeing that.” He smiled proudly. She let out a quiet laugh, but stop short when he frowned and gently touched her neck. “But he didna give her much choice. Near choked her to death using her as a shield. Cowardly bastard.”

Murtagh was watching their interaction, his eyes trained on them like a hawk, but she didn’t care.

“Jamie,” She whispered reaching up to squeeze his hand. But before she could make contact, or tell him to stop fretting, she found the drink skin thrust into her grasp. “Oh!” She gasped, spinning to face the small, round man from earlier.

“Hoor or no, ye a hero t’nite, lassie so drink up, aye. Slàinte!” He tipped the bottom of the skin, pushing it towards her lips, and not wanting to spill it, she took a mouthful and swallowed it quickly.

Tears filled her eyes and she pulled back, coughing and spluttering, as the liquid burned down the back of her throat. She couldn’t catch her breath, and that wasn’t helped by the large hand that patter her back roughly.

She waved it away, clutching at her throat with her free hand as she glared up at Jamie. Laughter sprung up around her again and she shoved the skin toward him.

Jesus Christ!

She’d never had whiskey before, she was more of a wine and beer kind of girl, but she was almost positive that twenty first century whiskey was quiet so corrosive!

“Definitely no a hoor!” Rupert chortled grinning at her toothlessly. She glared at him too, but that just seemed to encouraged his laughter. “But a feisty wee lassie.”

“Aye, so mind ye bollocks, Rupert, I’ll no stop her if she tries to rid ye of em.” Jamie warned, making no attempt to stem his own laughter. “Come, Sassenach. Let’s get ye some food an water then ye can sleep.”

Chapter 7

[phaedrecameron]

The Accused, James Fraser Chapter 4, JNOV

Trying an AO3 link. Hope it works :-)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15912846/chapters/37283180

[diversemediums]

Embers: four

Hi everyone! Getting back into the swing of things with all of my fics. Going slow and steady so I don’t burn out but am feeling the creative thoughts flow so that’s exciting :) Thanks to all who read, comment, reblog, and continue to be awesome.

Thanks @takemeawaytocamelot for the beta on this one.

Catch up on all of my stories here.

————————————————

He was dead. The thought floated precariously in front of him, a flickering flame of white light dancing in a pool of darkness. He felt weightless, limbs heavy and mind wandering euphorically in the nothingness of wherever it was between life and heaven.

Would he see his mother again? His father?

The thought caught in his throat, stinging his eyes with tears. He was choking, unable to move or breathe as bright light blinded him.

“Jamie!” he heard, a faint echo resounding in his head.

He tried to speak, to answer the voice. He knew her.

“Jamie, it’s alright. It’s alright…”

No, it was not. He was drowning. The room was tossing and turning, roiling like a raging sea.

“Mr. Fraser, you must be calm..”

He couldn’t breathe…

Hands on his arms, holding him down, keeping him from reaching the surface. A roaring in his ears that crashed and churned like ocean waves upon rocks, allowing no focal point upon which to reach.

A sudden crash, metal clanging off of a hard floor. Voices growing louder, hands holding tighter. Strange growls, resonating deep from within an animal’s chest. The burning of flesh and muscle and blood, heat and pain crackling from the inside out.

“Jamie please…”

That voice. He knew her...

Jenny.

The name was at the forefront of all thought and sensation, tethering him. A brief sting, and the waters began to calm along with mind and body. It hurt, but he was breathing.

He was alive.

[laythornmuse]

Where We Begin: Chapter 11

Previous Chapter

Claire arrived at Lallybroch late Friday evening.   Jamie met her on the long dark driveway,  leading her vehicle past the main house to a small cottage set back from the main road.

Exiting the car, she barely took two steps before his arms enveloped her into his coat, and his mouth dropped to possess hers.

“How was the drive?” He spoke against her lips.  “Are you never coming up here again?”

“It was only two hours, Jamie,” she muttered back, a smile forming as she leaned in for another kiss.  “I’ve driven far worse roads with less attractive men at the end of them.”

“Och, a prize, am I?” He teased, taking her bag from her as he pulled her along the path to the house.

“Motivation, I’d say. That and a warm bed,” she squeezed his hand as she looked up at the house with its rich smelling, log fire hearth. He grinned as he opened the door for her,  his eyes moving over her lithe form before his hands found their way back to her hips. 

“I know I was just with you this morning,” he spoke softly to her, his hands  holding her in the dark foyer of the cottage, “but I feel like I’ve longed for you to be here, with me, for an age.” 

“I love it already.  Being here with you…” she smiled into the dark, and found his lips again. 

She peeled away her coat and his until they stood in their clothes, limbs twined around one another, their mouths gently claiming one another in a sweet and tender dance. They would have continued on, had a yawn not rattled her body and given her away.

“Tired, aye?” 

“Well, it's certainly not your kisses putting me to sleep.”

Jamie chuckled and kissed her once more before leading her up the stairs to their bedroom, where a fire was well tended in the hearth and the sheets were already turned down. The room was decorated in a primitive style, harkening back to the estate's 18th-century roots. Across the chair by the window was a beautiful red tartan,  the Fraser colors from what she knew, that completed the room’s charm. 

“Would you like to shower…”

“No, I showered before I drove up, just in case ‘rustic’ meant camping bathrooms.” She said with a chuckle as he kissed her forehead.

“Well, good. I’m about ready to fall over and I don’t plan on sleeping without ye,” Jamie said, patting her gently on her rump. “I’ll show ye the grounds and gardens in the morning, and then you can meet Donas and Losgann.”

“Is Donas the biter?”

Jamie smiled as he pulled his sweater off. “Aye. That’s him.”

“Mmhmm.” Claire muttered, peeling off her layers just as quickly to slip under the sheets.  They were cool against her naked skin and the sensation made her shiver.

“Cold?” Jamie murmured, as he slid under the sheets as well. They both wordlessly moved towards the center of the bed, where they pressed against one another, transferring heat, touches, and kisses.

“Not anymore,” Claire murmured against his chest.  Curled into one another, and tucked in the fire-warmed feather down, their soft words quieted as they drifted off in each other's arms.

The slamming door felt like it shook the entire cottage, yet it was the pounding steps on the stairs that launched Jamie out of bed and into his clothes.

“JAMES. FRASER.”

Claire’s head popped up, eying Jamie’s half-naked form as he scrambled into his jeans. His pants buttoned, he opened the door and met Jenny Murray before she had a chance to storm into their room.

“Yes, Jenny?” Claire heard his muffled greeting as he closed the door behind him.

A silence followed, and Claire’s eyebrow crept up her face as Jenny’s voice punctuated the morning air. She decided promptness was the best solution and dressed in a pair of leggings and a long sweater.

“Breakfast is getting cold, and I don’t plan on eating without you both,” Jenny stated softly as Claire appeared on the landing.

“That sounds lovely.  Thank you for having me, Jenny.”

“Of course, Claire,” Jenny said and then turned back to her brother, frowning. “Well, put on a shirt you clot-heid.” Jenny tsked and started down the stairs.

Claire bit her bottom lip to keep a grin from splitting her face in half.

“Mmhmm.” Jamie muttered but returned in under a minute fully dressed. He wrapped his arm around her waist as they took the stairs.

“Did you sleep well?” He murmured in her ear.

“I always sleep well next to you,” she answered, kissing his cheek.

He smiled and hummed pulling her closer to his side and they walked out of their cottage towards the main house.  The crisp fall air carried the smell of bacon, yeasty rolls, and eggs. Claire’s mouth watered immediately, but even the heavenly scent of breakfast couldn’t distract her from the rolling hills and the nearby fields of lilac and heather.

“Oh Jamie, it’s so lovely here,” she whispered to him, squeezing his hand.

“It gets better if you can imagine,” he spoke to her curls. Ten feet from the house two small children stumbled down the front steps, both climbing over the other as they scrambled to their feet.

“Uncle Jamie!” The small boy called as he ran straight into Jamie’s arms.  Jamie tucked him under his arm while he leaned down to his three-year-old niece and circled his free arm around her, lifting her to his hip.

“I told ye to be more gentle with your sister, ye gomeral,” Jamie jostled the boy gently before putting him back on his feet.  

“This troublemaker is young Jamie, my nephew. Jamie, this is Claire, a special friend of mine.”

The young boy blushed and smiled widely,  his uncle’s smile, Claire noted. “Hi. I can show you the horses later. I know all their names.”

“Aye, that’d be verra helpful lad,” Jamie added with a smile.

“Nunkie,” Maggie said softly, her small hands gently folding into Jamie’s hair.

Jamie kissed Maggie’s cheek. “And this is Maggie.”

“Hello Maggie,” Claire cooed, and Maggie’s hands instantly gravitated to Claire’s hair.

“Pretty.” She said in awe, and Jamie chuckled.  

“Aye, Maggie. I couldn’t agree more.” 

Claire blushed but before she could reply, Jenny appeared at the door, taking in her brother and children.  She rolled her eyes and huffed. “You’ll all be the death of me.  In the house for some food, now, all of ye.”

John sat at the long dining table, his fork shoving eggs into his mouth as Ian read him a story from the newspaper. Upon seeing Claire, John stood, and hastily stepped around the table, avoiding the dog and young Jamie running into his shins. 

“You must be Claire,” John declared, a grin dancing across his face as he took in her windswept look and her easy smile.

“Yes! And who are you then?” She said, taking his hand as he guided her to a seat.

“I, good woman, am the adopted brother, that you’ve no doubt heard nothing about because…”

“John then,” Claire replied, grinning. “I trust you're friendlier than your niece?”

John’s face morphed through several expressions before he chuckled, and to Claire’s delight, blushed. “I’m humbled if you find me so, Claire.”

“She already disarmed you, John?” Jamie asked through the bannock in his mouth. He took a seat on Claire’s other side and reached for the plate of sausage. “Honestly, I expected more from you.”

“I’m only on my first cup of…”

“Oh, coffee!” Claire exalted as Jamie poured her a cup. “I can’t fault you there. I’m not allowed near my scalpels until cup two.”

“Jamie mentioned you were in your residency. A surgeon then?”

“If all goes well, ” Claire smiled, sipping from her cup. “I should finish my certifications by January.”

“A hell of an accomplishment that’s for sure,” John replied, raising his brows at Jamie. “Much more prestigious than an MBA.”

“Be nice, now,” Jamie muttered to his forkful of sausage.  “We can’t all have law degrees, John.”

Claire smiled. “And Jenny the artist.  She must have hated listening to you all.”

“Actually, I didn’t mind it much.” Jenny chimed in, as she slid into her chair. “I can block out most of their prattle when it suits me.” She cast a grin at Ian who leaned in for a kiss.

“What do you make of our humble home then, Claire?” Jenny asked, eying her over her mug.

“I’d hardly call it humble,” Claire chuckled.  “It’s quite grand in fact, even in the dark. I can’t wait to see more of it.”

“You’ll be tired of the hills and horses by noon,” John muttered and Ian laughed.

“Because you’re tired of it, aye?” Jamie replied quirking a brow at him. “And that’s why you're here today as well?”

“I’m here to watch you make an ass of yourself on that horse.  I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

“Donas did wonderful yesterday,” Jamie said evenly.

“By wonderful, you mean he only threw you once,” Ian piped in,  looking at Jamie over his paper. “Or did you forget about that?”

John winked at Claire.  “Has he told you about the demonic beast yet?”

Claire's eyes flicked to Jamie who stared intently into his mug. She looked back to John and took a long sip.

“I saw the bite mark.  Is there more to that story?”

“Just Jamie shouting at a crazed horse and praying to God the thing didn’t run him over like…”

“That’s quite enough coffee for you,” Jamie muttered, pulling the carafe away from John. “And he wasna crazed.  Just scared.”

“Same different when it's a 500-kilo animal,” John growled,  his eye flickering to Jenny who just rolled hers heavenward. 

“I gave up this argument years ago, John.  Maybe Claire can talk some sense into him,” Jenny snickered, passing rolls to Claire.

“She’s no’ God, Janet,” Jamie grumbled,  his hand slipping to Claire’s thigh under the table. 

Claire furrowed her brows at him. “It’d take God to keep you away from a dangerous horse?”

“Nah,” Jamie grinned, giving her thigh a squeeze. “But it’d take God’s intervention for me to give up on one.”

Master List

[redstarfiction-blog]

The Games We Play

A wee one shot of Jamie and Claire set around MOBY.

“Sassenach – do ye think me a fool?”

“Not often. Why?”

“I was just wonderin’ on account of the curly wee bits o’ green pokin’ out o’ my mashed potato.”

Claire sighed and rolled over, squinting to find the outline of her husband in the moonlight.

“It’s wild spinach…”

“It’s pigs weed …”

“And it’s incredibly …”

“Good for me. Aye, I ken. But ye ken I dinna care for it.”

One large hand crept across the space between them and settled pointedly on her bottom and Claire gave it a withering look over her shoulder before responding

“Which is why I went to the bother of chopping it up and mixing it in with your mashed potato, the same as Marsali does for Joan.”

Claire saw the glint of pale light on red whiskers as Jamie smiled, though the hand on her backside tightened ever so slightly.

“I am no’ a wee lass …”

“Well the fact that you need to say it …” Claire laughed and felt Jamie quivering with suppressed laughter himself, though when he spoke his voice managed to remain stern.

“I dinna like ye hidin’ things in my food.”

“And I don’t like the thought of you fainting due to an iron deficiency or losing teeth through scurvy!”

“Would ye still kiss me?”

The amusement in his voice shone through this time and Claire smiled to herself.

“I expect so.”

“Ach, weel then! I’ve no need to worry, have I?”

Jamie patted the rounded swell beneath his hand and rolled onto his back, snaking an arm around Claire’s shoulders and drawing her close.

“I can’t believe I finally locate a decent green, edible leaf in good supply in the middle of this jumbled forest and you won’t eat it!”

She huffed nuzzling in close to him and lightly nipping the flesh of his chest

“It isna ‘decent’ and edible is questionable too…”

“Next time I’ll grind it to a paste and stir it into your tea!”

“Do that an’ I’ll take ye wee pestle an’ throw it into the next lake we pass.”

Jamie grinned and kissed the crown of her head.

Claire snorted and rolled on top of him, deftly hitching his nightshirt up around his hips. As always she had a small start of surprise at the leanness of his flanks and the pointed arc of his hip bones beneath her fingers. Never a fat man even in middle age, Jamie had definitely lost too much weight on the road and it alarmed her to feel it.

“Dinna fash Sassenach, I’ve a wee bit o’ cushioning left yet.”

His fingers brushed through the curls at her temple and she turned her face to kiss his wrist

“We’re getting too old for all of this, General Fraser.” She smiled ruefully and felt rather than saw Jamie nod

“Aye we are. I think I may be ready for a wee blanket at my knees and a graceful dotage.”

Claire wrinkled her nose “I don’t know about that, but a proper bed and some good food wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Ah, so ye do admit that feedin’ ye husband weeds is no’ verra nice!”

Jamie sat up and Claire’s legs wrapped around him, keeping her balance as she shifted them in the little tent.

“I admit that if I could find a carrot to stop your fussing it would be a welcome change!”

Jamie laughed and slid his hands up Claire’s shift, feeling the nobbles of her spine and her ribs pressing against her skin. He sighed and rested his forehead against her shoulder

“Aye, and ye are in need o’ a wee bit more sustenance too Sassenach.”

Claire shook her head gently and lifted his face to kiss his lips “I’m fine. I have you.”

“That ye do lass …”

Jamie gasped as Claire proved her point and began to gently rock against him

“Oh dear God, ye truly do Sassenach.”

Claire paused and was gratified to hear a noise of distress emit from his throat

“Will you eat the spinach?”

Jamie growled but after a moment of hesitation nodded

“Aye, I’ll eat whatever ye decide to stick in my supper here but …”

He thrust his hips impatiently, grinning at the contented squeak Claire gave

“…when we get home ye are to stop feeding me weeds. Agreed?”

“Agreed!” Claire moaned, digging her fingers into the curls at the base of his skull. * The next morning, as Jamie tried to eat around the flecks of green in his porridge, he raised his fingers to the faint scratches his wife had left on his neck and grinned to himself. Looking down at the pestle and mortar at his feet and the as yet untouched cup of tea at Claire’s elbow, his eyes narrowed to mischievous slits as he waited for her to take her first sip.

Two could play these games and he wondered, with a faint shiver of anticipation, how she would even the score tonight.

[diversemediums]

I will not be less to you: ficlet 1

So, this is my first attempt at being deliberately angsty. Hope it worked :) I’m also one who tends to write “short stories” that morph into monsters so this will be ficlet 1/3. Thanks to @takemeawaytocamelot @gotham-ruaidh @lenny9987 and @anoutlandishidea for beta testing ❤️

***

@tinalb88 prompt: Hello! Not sure how this works so I’ll apologize upfront if I’m out of place. I’ve been kicking around thoughts of first book outlander. When at the Abby Jamie tells Murtagh to take Claire back to the stones. What if Claire were to flee on her own to avoid being sent back to the stones. Would Jamie snap out of his BJR induced misery to find her?

I will not be less to you.

Jamie Fraser lay in bed, curled up on his side, feeling nothing. And everything. His mind churned slowly, as if all thought was trapped underwater, unable- or unwilling- to break the surface of reality. The door of his room opened, revealing Murtagh. Jamie swallowed, preparing himself.

“She’s gone, lad.”

Gone. He felt the word like a blow. Could feel each cracked piece of his heart begin to bleed in earnest.

“Aye,” he whispered, heartache warring with acceptance. He hugged the pillow tighter against his chest, holding himself together. For now.

She is gone.

Away and free, no longer bound to a repulsive coward.

“I… thank ye. She is safe awa’ then?”

“Dinna ken. By ‘gone’ I meant the wee besom is missing.”

Jamie opened his eyes and slowly raised them to meet Murtagh’s.

“What d’ye mean, missing?”

“I meant the lass isna anywhere in this godforsaken… Ah… mmph.”

Murtagh glanced at the door where a monk stood listening. He looked back at Jamie.

“She came out after speakin’ wi’ you, looking ill.”

Jamie’s stomach clenched in memory as nausea coursed through him. He’d told her everything; everything that had happened to him in that dungeon. Then, unable to reconcile the broken creature he was now to the husband she deserved, he’d ordered her to leave… but God he’d wanted nothing more than to lay his head on her lap so she could comfort him. He couldn’t.

I will not be less to you.

“I told her I’d be escorting her back to Scotland,” Murtagh continued, watching him carefully. “Back to the stones. She didna say anything. Just went to her room and shut the door.”

“Where. Is. She?” Jamie breathed, feeling the bile rise in his throat as he slowly sat up. Murtagh huffed out a breath.

“She’s left, lad. No one kens where she is.”

Jamie stared at his godfather, thoughts jumping from one horrifying possibility to another. He could hear the wind howling outside, the bite of the dry, winter air stinging his sensitive skin, even in the warmth of the room. He could sense the imminent snowfall; that cold, heavy blanket turning his veins to ice at the very possibility of Claire out there, alone.

“Have ye searched the abbey? The stables? Surely-“

“She isna here, Jamie,” Murtagh interrupted gruffly. “D’ye think I’d be bothering ye if she was?”

Claire gone. Alone. Hurt. Frozen. Dead.

No.

[diversemediums]

Thy life’s asunder, thine heart’s ardor~ 3

Here it is! The next installment of the shipwreck AU. As always, @takemeawaytocamelot is a dream to work with ❤️ Hope you all enjoy! See the previous chapter HERE.

Jamie woke abruptly, fighting back the restraining hands that held him down. His heart was hammering, blind anger and panic still coursing through his body despite the pain that stabbed at him with each move he made.

“Be still!”

Part of his brain grasped onto that voice. She wouldn’t be on that field…

“Jamie, no!”

He could hear gasping and realized it was his own breathing. Forcing his eyes open, he saw that it was still late. The fire was burning low, emanating flickers of soft light that illuminated Claire’s face as she saw awareness come into his eyes. Her grip on his shoulders lessened as they looked at each other.

“All right?” she asked softly, brushing his hair away from his damp face.

“Aye,” he rasped.

His throat was sore. A Dhia he hoped he hadn’t cried out in his sleep. Once Claire helped him to sit upright, Jamie leaned his head back against the tree. He’d been dreaming of Culloden again, and little wonder - everything hurt. A soft breeze floated over him, making him shiver despite feeling parched and burnt by the sun. Claire brought the water skin to his lips, taking extra care not to touch him.

“I’m sorry if I frightened ye.”

She paused, meeting his eyes as she shook her head.

“You didn’t.”

Jamie nodded, watching her as she examined his visible wounds. Seeing her face, it struck him that she might think she hadn’t cared for him properly. He swallowed.

“What woke me… it was only a dream, ken?”

Claire took his hand, examining the splinter wound. “Only a dream?” she asked, meeting his eyes.

She’d known what he’d meant. He looked away, seeing the first rays of sunlight beginning to show themselves through the trees.

“Jamie?”

He turned back, heart stopping at the look on her face. Some pity, yes. Compassion, most certainly. But what struck him was the look of honest understanding.

I may not have visible wounds, but I know the invisible, her eyes said.

*******

“Wouldn’t it be easier if ye just drop me in the ocean?”

“Yes.”

“Then where are we going?”

After a quiet breakfast, Jamie had asked Claire if there was a place to bathe that was near to her camp. Truthfully, he ached abominably, felt very ill, and could smell himself in a way that made him embarrassed to be in her presence. Claire had risen, gathered her spear and water skin, and forced him to walk deeper inland as he leaned against her.

“Shush.”

“Shush, she says,” he muttered in Gaelic, almost tripping over a fallen palm tree frond. Only Claire’s reflexes kept them both from toppling into a heap on the ground.

“It will help,” Claire responded, ignoring his tone and keeping her pace.

If ye dinna kill me first.

“Sassenach…”

“This way.”

Jamie exhaled, focusing all of his energy on not collapsing. The very thought of simply lying down sounded almost more exquisite than the pain relief Claire had promised him.

“In there,” Claire said, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

Jamie looked around the cave entrance that she’d pointed at. Surrounded by trees, the air around them seems to glow in the light of the sun that moved through the leaves overhead. Claire moved to brush branches away from an opening in the rock fissure before them.

Jamie held out a hand to steady himself as they made their way down. And down. And down.

“How far does the path go, Sassenach?” he asked lowly.

Despite the air being cooler, he could feel the moisture that coated his face and ran down his back. His legs were beginning to tremble. He focused on her grip on him and followed her confident steps until he realized the path was leveling out.

“Can you see it?” she asked.

“I canna see anything.”

She left him standing, quietly moving about and making rustling noises. Jamie could hear the cave breathe and felt a small qualm go through his body at the reminder of the cave at Lallybroch.

Suddenly, a small flame illuminated Claire’s face. He blinked, taking comfort in the warm light that was growing in her hands as she lit the torch that was buried in the ground. Satisfied that it would burn steadily, she rose and held out her hand.

“Come.”

He stepped carefully, trying not to grimace. After journeying to this place, his shoulder and ribs ached with each breath and each pull and push of muscle seemed to emanate a burning jolt of pain that ran up his body and into his head. Taking her hand, he allowed her to tow him into the large cavern space.

“Is that..?”

Claire smiled at him, gently pulling him closer to the edge of the clear black lake. The air was humid here. Jamie could see the wisps of moisture hanging over the still surface of the water, the faint scent of sulfur slightly burning in his nose. Claire turned, the flames illuminating her against the black backdrop of the cave.

“Take off your shirt.”

Jamie blinked.

“What?”

Claire laughed, grabbing at the hem of his grubby sark.

“It will get wet,” she said practically, pulling it up.

“Christ, woman!” Jamie exclaimed, backing away and promptly tripping over a log that was behind him. “Ifrinn!”

Claire moved to help but he held out his hand, halting her. Sitting on the log, Jamie gazed suspiciously at her. Slowly, she sank to the ground and sat before him, gazing placidly back.

“I willna be taking my shirt off, lass,” he said definitively. “Nor anything else! It’s no’ proper.”

“The water helps healing,” Claire replied firmly.

“Aye, well, leave me be and-“

“You’ll drown.”

He opened his mouth to argue but promptly shut it again. Between the shipwreck, the journey to the cave, and his current physical limitations, he was shaking like a leaf. He exhaled heavily through his nose.

“It will help,” she said softly, whisky eyes glowing up at him.

“Lass…” he said, closing his eyes to avoid looking at her.

Admittedly, he’d almost give anything for relief of his bodily ailments. He wouldn’t, however, dishonor the lass or himself. And then, there were the scars…

“Jamie.”

He opened his eyes and his mouth fell open. She stood, naked above the waste, looking over her shoulder at him. She lifted her hand, smoothing the thick mass of her hair out of the way. The original cuts would have been deep. They were five long runnels running from her right shoulder, across her back, and fading where the curve of her ribs created her waistline. Her eyes were sure and honest, lacking hesitancy or embarrassment.

“Claire…”

He rose, transfixed. She stood still, watching him as he hesitantly reached out to touch one of the scars. She flinched slightly at his touch. He met her eyes to seek permission, and, after a moment, she nodded. Gently, he followed the line down, his hand cupping her waist as the marks faded. Gooseflesh had risen over her skin, making the tiny down hairs on her arms rise. Looking up, he found her lips had parted and the look of trust she gave him smote him to his very core.

“Take off your shirt?” she asked, her hand covering the one he’d placed on her waist. “The water will help.”

He hesitated, then nodded. Backing up, he took a deep breath and pulled the linen over his head. He dropped it on the ground and looked up. He stared.

“Have you never seen a naked woman before?” she asked, seeming amused.

Her garments lay at her feet. That was the first thing he tried to focus on when he’d ripped his eyes away from her.

“No’ one so close,” he gasped, torn between laughing and dying of embarrassment.

“Your face is red.”

“Aye, to be sure,” he rejoined, meeting her eyes again. “Christ lass, ye’ve no’ a stitch on!”

She moved toward him, slowly, like she would approach a startled animal.

“Your turn,” she said, reaching for his flies.

Jamie jumped back and nearly tripped over the log again.

“No,” he said firmly. “Absolutely not.”

Claire cocked her head, eyebrow raised. The flames from the torch put her body in dark relief, as it had in the light of the campfire. This time, though, he actually knew what was under her clothing. Jamie swallowed, feeling the heat of embarrassment spreading to more than just his face.

“The breeks stay on lass, and that’s all abou’ it.”

Claire smiled at him, but nodded, holding out her hand to help. She tucked her shoulder under his arm and suddenly stopped as her hand reached behind his back. Jamie closed his eyes. He’d forgotten, in the awkwardness.

Claire stepped behind him, her fingertips gently caressing the hundreds of welts that scarred his back. He could feel her, almost see her face in his mind, and was startled at the knowledge that she wouldn’t be afraid. Claire would know, perhaps more than anyone else he’d ever met, about being haunted by scars and memories. The thought was oddly comforting.

Silently, she stepped in front of him again and squeezed his hand.

“Come. It’s shallow, just there.”

She led him to the pool, heedless of her nakedness. Try as he might, Jamie couldn’t look away. In the light, her skin was a sun kissed gold; there, in the dark, she glowed like ivory as she sank into the hot spring. A siren calling him to his death. He answered, slowly moving into the water, every cut and bruise stinging as he allowed her to wade him deeper.

Jamie felt his body relaxing, the silence and stillness of this place putting his mind at peace and easing the pain and stiffness. Claire turned, holding him by the elbows as a gentle current began towing them. Her curls lay limp, the ends floating in the water, clinging to her breasts. He felt her start kicking as they floated into deeper waters and he reached for her without thought.

He felt his world fix itself on her face as her confidence changed to surprise and guarded hesitance. Her eyes shone bright in the dimness, meeting his in silent trust. His hands at her waist held her up; gentle, so that she could pull away if she wished. She didn’t.

Jamie had never held a naked woman. Had never thought he would, in fact, after Culloden and it’s aftermath. Thoughts of decency warred with the overwhelming sense of wanting her nearer. He felt her hands skim from his elbows up to his shoulders and he shuddered, despite the heat of the water that surrounded them. He pulled her closer, his heart beating loudly in his ears as he stopped before her breasts could brush his chest.

Claire stared at him, her breathing heavier than usual. Slowly, she brought her hand behind his neck and flushed her body with his, her breath soft against his shoulder.

“God,” he whispered, holding her close, his hands running smoothly up and down her back.

Her skin was soft and warm, slippery in the oily water. Jamie closed his eyes, feeling her heartbeat against his chest, the way her nipples brushed against him as she breathed, the feeling of her fingers running through his hair. He cupped her neck in his hand, sliding his fingers up to tangle in her wild curls. Claire whimpered, pulling herself higher so that her nose brushed his ear.

His free hand slid down her waist, gripping her backside and pulling her closer. Claire hitched her leg around his hip and Jamie pulled her to him again, breath coming short. He could feel her, bare and open for him under the water. The next time, he thrust back against her. This time, he whimpered.

Claire pulled back, meeting his eyes. Her eyes were soft, yet burning, despite the lack of light in that area of the lake. She touched his face, moving her hips against him as her nose brushed his. He could feel her breath against his lips as she shakily exhaled.

What he wouldn’t give to kiss her, to reach down and touch her just there…

Claire’s grip on him slipped and pain shot down his arm, making him hiss out a breath. She looked at him, mortified.

“I’m sorry… I…”

Jamie blinked, shrugging the offending joint gingerly.

“It’s alright, lass. Truly… I…”

They’d reached another bank and Claire found her footing again. Still, she held on to him. Jamie stared at her, appalled at his actions.

“Claire, I am sorry,” he said. “I should never have…”

He looked at her helplessly, ashamed at his behavior. She stared at him, her parted lips and flushed cheeks making him start to lose his head all over again. Smiling a little shakily, she nodded.

“Forgiven.”