Numb. That was how Claire felt. Ever since she had arrived at the prison and was informed that James Fraser had been hanged the day previously, she could barely hold it together long enough to leave the room and collapse. Murtagh didnât need to ask, neither did the others. Claireâs frozen expression and lack of response as though she were swept up in a daze was enough. The days were longer somehow, and the nights unbearable. She rarely slept, a bit between the journey back to Leoch when they stopped to set up camp, but as soon as the sun set, she found she could not close her eyes, seeing only his face and the lack of help she had provided him with. He had waited in that cell, she knew, for her to come and get him out. Those weeks of traveling the Highlands with Murtagh had all been for naught, why could she not have got there sooner?
She would never be the same. Every time she entered a room, she knew sheâd look for him. Every night sheâd sit awake waiting for him to come home. But he never would, and the fact that it seemed so impossible to her that he was gone for good, completely shattered her. She had broken down here and there, crumbled into the embrace of Murtagh who allowed her to let out the pain and misery. Until of course, she found herself saddled upon a horse, trailing along after the rest of the men, into the confines of Leoch.
This was not over still, she had told herself. It had been a couple of weeks since his death. He had been buried and she had acquired the small collection of things he carried in his sporran. It was done with. Life would go on. But for Claire, she was sourly reminded of the promise sheâd made Dougal all those weeks before when hope was still fresh in her mind and Jamie lived. She was to marry the War Chieftain if her plan proved unsuccessful, and in return he would give whatever men wanted to go on this suicide mission. Itâs what Jamie would have wanted, he had told her. But Jamie would sooner turn in his grave than to see her with his Uncle. Claire could never love him, in fact she doubted she could ever love anyone as much as she loved the red headed warrior Scot. But whatever the case, it was certain that she had to get back to those Stones. For what was her purpose here if not for Jamie?
                                                   âI see you got what you wanted!â
Claire spat rather viciously the moment she heard the door of her surgery open and someone come parading down the steps, releasing an anger all of a sudden she didnât know sheâd been harbouring. She had been home mere hours, Murtagh informing everyone of Jamieâs plight. Laoghaire was inconsolable at the news, Mrs Fitz a blubbering mess, whereas Claire had done her crying and wished to remove herself from the watching eyes of the tenants. Her escape was here, in the dark dim  surgery which Dougal now saw fit to intrude and interrupt her somber thoughts.
             âDonât come down here pretending to mourn for him,
                 we both know youâre delighted with yourself.â
For with the death of Jamie, confirmed his ownership of Claire. Dougal may have claimed to love his nephew but he also saw him as a threat to his line, to Lallybroch and the inheritance from his brother. With him out of the way, well Dougal was free to do as he wanted, not that he didnât do it anyway.
