#itwritesitself

Previously

Jamie had nearly burst with joy when Jenny whispered to him that she was having a baby. His enthusiasm was only slightly dampened by the thought of trying to run the hotel without her. He was under no illusions about how hard his sister worked to keep Lallybroch running perfectly. Moreover, he knew exactly what she was going to suggest to keep service running smoothly.

Claire knew what she was doing. She managed the clients with utter professionalism and the staff who weren’t personally afraid of her were afraid of her reputation. She shared Jenny’s vision of what the hotel could be.

Jamie knew his sister was right. He was less sure about the latest scheme she had planned.

‘A photoshoot?’ he repeated hoarsely. ‘A PHOTOSHOOT?’

‘Yes, Jamie, a photoshoot. You know, man with a camera, takes photographs, magazine, website. This is a huge opportunity, we can’t pass this by!’

‘Well, why can’t you and I do it?’ he persisted stubbornly.

‘Because I can’t stand up without throwing up,’ she retorted irritably.

And so Jamie found himself in the parlour, which, despite the summer heat, had been decorated for a lavish Lallybroch Christmas. Fraser firs stood proudly, bedecked in red and gold decorations, garlands wrapped around the ancient oak banister and flickering tea lights in all of the nooks and crannies.

He had been forced into a suit for the purpose, and a make-up artist kept attempting to daub his face with lotions and potions. He was fidgeting with his cuffs (it was too hot, dammit) when Claire came in the side door.

He was generally aware that she was a beautiful woman. Every now and then he would cast an admiring look over her, before he forced his brain back into business mode.

Today she was nothing short of stunning, in a simple black dress with low black heels. Her brown curls had been tamed and were shinier and glossier than ever. He couldn’t help but grin at her. ‘You scrub up well, Sassenach.’

He had been expecting a sharp, sarcastic response. He was slightly taken aback by her quiet ‘so do you.’ She sounded different, he thought, and then he caught a glimpse of her white hands shaking. She was nervous.

‘Are ye alright?’ he whispered, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around her.

‘It should be Jenny here,’ she said, turning her beautiful brown eyes up to his face. ‘She’s your sister, this is her vision.’

When the photographer did ask him to put his arms around her and gather her close, he was exceptionally glad that the woman beside him was not his sister.