#james fraser

In the fields, on your way to see the curly redhead of whom you share your life with, you basked in the feeling of the breeze on your face and long grass brushing your legs. You saw Jamie working on a foal in the stables. You admired him, approaching silently, pleased just watching him work.

Jamie, so focused on the task at hand, didn’t hear you walking up to him until you were just a few feet away. He turned around quickly at the sound, almost losing his balance before crying out to you. “Christ, lass. Ye scared the life outta me.”

You chuckled softly, “Sorry Jame, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Jamie smiled, rubbing the back of his neck with a flex of his strong arms. “It’s alright, was just a bit distracted.” He gave the horse a pat on the flank, the stubborn beast letting out a soft nicker. Taking a break from the task, Jamie took a moment to catch his breath and walked over to your side, leaning against the fence of the pen. “What’s got ye out here at this time of the day?” he teased with a smile.

“I just wanted to see you.” you replied, smiling at him softly.

Jamie’s smile broadened; his cheeks dusted with pink after your honesty. A sweet smile graced his face. “Oh, aye? Well, here I am.” He reached out and gave your hand a slight tug, bringing you closer to him. Leaning back against the fence, Jamie looped his arm around your waist and held you close to him, bringing you with him. “I’ve missed ye.”

His blue eyes shone with affection, admiring the way the sunlight made your hair shine. One hand came up and lightly twirled a strand around his finger. A soft breeze blew past, lifting the rest of your hair just slightly, enough to brush against his face in a silken caress. Jamie closed his eyes and inhaled again, relishing the feeling of you in his arms.

Being engaged to Jamie was the best part of your life. He loved you more than anyone else ever has. It was, and is, a sweet love.

Jamie’s hands slid slowly over your back, coming to rest on your hips. “I want to ask ye somethin’,” he murmurs, leaning in so that his lips are just barely brushing against your ear. His words sent a shiver down your spine, his breath warm on your skin. He pulls back a bit, blue eyes searching your face. Lifting one hand, his calloused fingers brushed lightly against your cheek.

“What is it?” you asked.

Jamie’s gaze soft, he looked at you, thumb still brushing over your cheek. “I was just wonderin’..” he says softly, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. He hesitated for a moment, as if afraid to put his next words into action. “We’ve been engaged now for... nearly seven years, aye?”

“It may feel that way, but it’s only been two years, Jame.” you teased him, knowing he was teasing me right back.

Jamie chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes at your reply. “Aye, ye’re right lassie, only been two years.” He took your hand in his, bringing it up to tenderly kiss the knuckles. His expression turned more serious. “I suppose… I suppose I was wonderin’ if…” he paused again, faltering as if losing his courage. Jamie swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly in his throat as he looks away from you for a moment. His eyes darted back to your face, as if he were attempting to find the strength he needs in your gaze.

You put your own hand on his cheek gently and caught his eye. “Ask your question, love.”

Jamie closed his eyes briefly at your touch, his cheek warm and rough beneath your palm. He leaned into your hand, nuzzling his face against your skin. He took a deep breath, his words tumbling out as he opened his eyes to look deeply into your own. “I was wonderin’ if ye meant what ye said – about marryin’ me. About… being mine.”

You were slightly taken aback. You felt awful that he wasn’t sure if your feelings were the same. You moved your thumb on his cheek back and forth, the same comforting gesture he does to you. “Oh, my Jamie. Of course, I meant it. I mean it still, with every part of my soul. Why do you ask?”

Your words seemed to soothe his uncertainty, his expression softening at your declaration. He covered your hand with his own, still holding it against his cheek. “I jus… I guess I just needed to hear it from ye, is all.” His eyes searched yours, as if looking for reassurance.

“Sometimes,” he spoke again, his voice low and quiet. “Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat, thinkin’ that I’m goin’ to find that this is all a dream. That I’ll open my eyes and ye’ll be gone.”

“I will never go anywhere, my sweet. Ever. I promise.”

Jamie’s grip on your hand tightened, as if he needed the reassurance of your touch to ground himself. “Promise me again,” he whispered, moving so that he had you pressed up against him once again, his body flush against yours.

“I promise, Jamie Fraser. With all of me, I promise.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply. “Christ, lass.” He muttered, his hold on you bordering on desperate, “I love ye.”

You put a hand in his hair and replied, “I love you, more.”

Jamie let out a low moan, half from the pleasure of your hand in his hair, and half from the intensity of his own emotions stirring within him. He turned his head slightly, biting down gently on the column of your neck in a playfully possessive manner. “Yer mine,” he murmured against your skin, “All mine.” His lips pressed against your skin, trailing a path of gentle kisses up your neck and jaw, until he reached your lips, planting one, deep and meaningful.

Our moment was interrupted by sounds of yelling in the distance. Jamie broke the kiss, his head whipping towards the disturbance, all of his senses suddenly alert. He muttered something under his breath – a Gaelic curse – and stepped back, though his hand still lingered on your hip, as if he was reluctant to fully let go. The sounds of shouting were getting closer, the voices more distinct. Jamie’s face hardened, his expression turning serious.

“Stay here.” He commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

“No!” You cried, gripping his bicep. “We should stay together.” But by the look on Jamie’s face, he wasn’t going to agree with you.

Jamie turned back to you, the serious cast on his face softening just slightly at the sight of your worry. He squeezed your hip in an attempt to comfort you with his touch. “Not this time.” He told you firmly. “I couldna bear it if anything happened to ye, lass. Ye’re stayin’ here, where it’s safe.”

Jamie left you there to see what was happening. You anxiously tried to make yourself smaller when someone grabbed you from behind. You felt a hard arm wrap around your waist, a hand clamping down tightly over your mouth as you were pulled back, away from the open space in the field.

“Quiet or I kill you.” Your captor growled in your ear. You complied. You needed to wait for the right moment. They carried you until a buggy attached to a horse came into view. They threw you in when you finally screamed. “JAMIE!”

Jamie’s head whipped around at the sound of your scream, his whole body tensing. His eyes found yours for a split second before the door was slammed shut. Jamie roared, anger and panic warring within him. He ran toward the buggy, trying to catch up, but he was too late – the horse and cart took off at a fast pace.

“No. NO!” Jamie yelled again, sprinting after you, but he knew it was no use. He couldn’t keep up. He stopped abruptly, panting heavily, the reality of what was happening sinking in like a lead weight in his chest.

“Hell,” he snarled, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what to do. Anger and fear bubbled up in his veins, mixing together in a potent potion that threatened to consume him.

Jamie turned on his heel, sprinting toward the stables. He needed to get to the castle, find help, and get to you before anything could happen to you. He pushed himself harder than he ever had in his life, his lungs burning and his muscles screaming in protest.

As soon as he reached the castle gates, he was shouting for everyone and anyone who would listen. Murtagh and a few of the other men who were loitering nearby turn at the sound of his voice, eyes wide with concern.

“Help!” He gasped, trying to speak between ragged breaths. “Help me find her!”

The men moved at once, recognizing the urgency in his voice. Murtagh placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, trying to calm him. “What happened? Where’s the lass?”

“They took her,” Jamie choked out, the words feeling like acid on his tongue. “A buggy. Dragged her into it and took off.”

The men froze, horror and rage flickering across their faces. They all knew what such a thing meant – kidnapped, stolen. Taken to God knows where for who knows what purpose.

“We have to find her.” Jamie snarled, his voice deadly calm even though panic still threatened to overtake him.

“Aye, we will find her Jamie.” Murtagh assured him. “But we need a plan.”

Jamie pushed the sweat-slicked hair away from his face, frustration and helplessness warring within him. He knew Murtagh was right, they needed a plan.

With every passing moment, Jamie’s fear and worry for you grew. The thought of you in the hands of Englishmen, taken from him with no warning or way to know if you were safe, was eating him alive. He paced restlessly in the yard, trying to keep his mind focused on the task at hand but he couldn’t shake the image of you in the arms of that man, alone and afraid. The men around him were strategizing, discussing possible locations where you might have been taken. They threw out different ideas, but none of them felt right to Jamie.

“She could be anywhere!” Jamie ground out through clenched teeth, frustration making him feel like a rabid animal, pacing his cage.

Jamie’s hands balled into fists at his side, the helplessness he was feeling making him want to punch something, anything, just to feel something other than impotent rage and panic.

“There has to be somethin’, somethin’ we’re not seein’,” he growled, his eyes scanning his surroundings like he might find an answer written in the air between them.

A few of the other men started talking at once, offering ideas and suggestions but their words were just noise to Jamie. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t think straight. His mind was consumed by one thing – you.

**

At the same time the men were talking about a plan, you were being taken to an unknown location. All you knew about your kidnappers was that they were English. The buggy came to a stop, and you held your breath, waiting for what was to come. Would they hurt me? Would they kill me? Did anyone stay behind, was Jamie safe? These thoughts consumed your mind. The door to the buggy opened, spilling sunset into the dark interior. A hand grabbed your arm and hauled you out of the cart. You were thrown over a shoulder like a sack of grain, carried off in a direction you didn’t recognize.

You were carried into what looked like a large estate, the path dimly lit by a few candles here and there. You could hear hushed voices talking, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. You thrashed and fought, fought for yourself and for Jamie. But your captor was much stronger. They threw you down to the ground into a room and you landed with a grunt.

Sharp pain shot through your limbs, and you gasped. Hands grabbed you again, and you were dragged across the floor and propped up against the wall. You looked up and your heart sunk as you realized you’d been brought face to face with Jack Randall himself.

“Randall.” You inhaled sharply.

Jack Randall smirked, his eyes roaming over you, taking in every inch. His gaze was calculating, predatory, a lion stalking its prey. “Well, well, well.” Jack said, his voice low and derisive, “If it isn’t the Scott’s fiery wench.”

“What do you want with me?”

Jack chuckled at your question, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was oddly intimate, one you shared with Jamie just today, and it made your skin crawl. “What every man wants with a woman, my dear.” He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your cheek. “Power. Control.”

“And you can get that from me then?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Jack chuckled, his eyes gleaming. “The leverage I have with you, my little pet, is immense.”

“What are you gonna do then? Sell me to the highest bidder?” You spat at him.

“I’m going to use you to get to your traitor lover.” He replied back. Your heart tightened at the mention of Jamie, your body tense in response. Randall laughed lightly when he saw your reaction.

Filled with so much anger you spat in his face. Randall’s face hardened, the mirth gone from his eyes. He grabbed your face by the chin, fingers digging into your skin. “Don’t test me, wench. You don’t know what I am capable of.”

You ripped your face from his hands, “And you don’t know anything about me. You certainly know nothing about Jamie.”

Jack’s expression changed, darkening in anger once again. “I know enough. I know that he would do anything to get you back. He’ll come running after you, like a dog chasing a bone, unable to resist himself.

“Then you’ll die.” You responded, matter of fact.

**

The sun had set, bathing the castle in shadows. Jamie was still pacing, his thoughts and emotions in a whirlwind of worry. Murtagh placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, stopping his movement. “Jamie lad, ye need to calm down. We’ll find her, but not if ye wear a hole in the ground.”

Jamie whirled around to face Murtagh directly, the anger and frustration radiating off of him like a physical force. “How can I be calm? She’s out there somewhere, alone, afraid, and devil knows what else in the hands of the English.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand why her…” Jamie trailed off, realization setting in. “Randall. It’s Randall.” He tells Murtagh.

Murtagh’s expression darkened, anger of his own flaring in his eyes. “That bastard. He’d stoop so low as to kidnap a lass?”

“Aye,” Jamie hissed, remembering all he had done to his sister for not a reason in the world. “I ken his kind. He has a fascination with control over women and the men in their lives.”

“He wants to get to you, lad.”

Jamie nodded, his expression solemn. “Aye, I know that. He’s usin’ her as bait, he’s countin’ on me to go after her.”

“And we both know ye will, don’t we?” Murtagh said, his words a challenge and reassurance at the same time.

“Aye. I will.” Jamie nodded, solemnly. “She’s everythin’.”

“And we’ll find her.” Murtagh said, determination in his voice. “And when we do, we’ll make Randall pay for this.”

“He’s expectin’ ye, thinks ye’ll lose yer head and run without a plan. He won’t be expectin’ us all.” Murtagh continued.

A slow, dangerous smile crept across Jamie’s face. He was coming for you.

**

Time passed and as you sat aching from the events passed, you waited. Waited for Randall to kill her. Waited for Jamie to get here. Waited.

Night fell and you were left in the dark silence for what felt like an eternity. You were weary from being dragged around like a ragdoll, and your body ached. The silence was maddening. Randall came in again and when he seen you in discomfort, a sick smile came across his face. He approached you, towering over you, taking a moment to look you over like he was admiring a piece of art, or more likely, a piece of meat.

“How are you faring, dear?” he asked, his voice filled with mock concern.

You refused to answer, not wanting to give him any more satisfaction. He chuckled, clearly amused by your attempt at defiance. “Still stubborn as a mule, I see. You’ll learn soon enough to cooperate.”

He approached you and the look in his eyes chilled you to your bones, though you didn’t want to admit it. Instead, you waited until he was close enough and struck him, hard. Big mistake. My hand swung out and connected with his cheek, the crack loud in the quiet room. He stumbled backward, surprised by your audacity.

“Bitch!” He roared, rubbing his cheek where you had slapped him. “You little wench!”

He charged forward, gripping you like no one had before. Holding you so tightly you feared your arm would break. His nails dug into your flesh and you held back a cry, unable to free yourself from his grip. You could smell the whiskey on his breath and hear the anger in his voice.

“I was going to wait until your redheaded hero arrives, but you’ve crossed a line, and you must be taught a lesson.” He breathed in your face. Before you knew what was happening, he’d punched you in the nose.

Pain shot through your face, and you felt the wetness of blood. You gasped, tears pricking your eyes, but refusing to show any more weakness. “You thought you could get away with that?” He spat, his rage evident in his shaking hands that tightened around you even harder. “No one strikes me without consequences.”

“Cry out, Y/N. Cry out for your lover.” He seethed as he stuck you again, back of his hand hitting the side of your face. You spit the blood out, holding in your cries. You won’t scream. You bit your tongue, the taste of metal from the hit mix with new blood, determined not to give him the satisfaction. He was trying to provoke you, to get you to cry out for Jamie, and you won’t give in.

He sneered, his face close to yours. “You don’t still fancy yourself with hope, do you? Your man isn’t coming for you.”

“Perhaps I should teach you a lesson in the same way I taught him.” He said, voice laced in a tone of cockiness. “A lashing will have you crying out for him. You will cry out for him.”

My heart seized at his words, the memory of Jamie’s scarred back forever etched into your mind. You looked at Randall with all the hatred you could muster, not wanting to show him your fear. You made eye contact with him. Blood running from your nose, lip split in two from his strikes. You swallowed the blood and said nothing. You will not cry for Jamie. You will be as strong as him.

Randall looked at you with disgust, clearly annoyed with your continued defiance. He grabbed you by the hair and forced you look up at him. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that. But you’ll break soon enough. Jamie did.” He taunted you.

With that he went to the wooden table in the corner of the room and grabbed rope. He came back over and tied you to the pillar in the room. Ripping your clothes from your body, he exposed your bare back. Exposed your breasts. You gasped but caught yourself from showing emotion. All you could think was that he was going to do it, he was going to lash you.

The cold air hit your exposed skin and you shivered involuntarily. You could feel his eyes on you, taking in every inch of your flesh. You tried to take deep breaths, to prepare for the agony to come, but the anticipation was almost worse. You heard Randall approach, heard the sound of the whip as he cocked it back. When it hit you, the pain was unlike anything you had ever felt. You screwed your eyes shut and held back the scream in the back of your throat.

Again, the whip lashed you, harder this time. You tried to focus on Jamie, your Jamie, and on the strength and determination he had shown you. You thought of how many of these he had taken to get the scars on his back. You would be strong; you would be strong for him. You took lash after lash, the pain unbearable, Randall’s grunts of frustration and the whip ripping open your skin were the only sounds in the air.

He whipped you on an already open wound and this time, you broke. You screamed; you cried out for your love. The sound of your own voice crying out for Jamie felt like a betrayal. But the pain was excruciating, and tears streamed down your face without consent.

You heard a low, mocking laugh from Randall, and you knew he was enjoying watching you suffer and that he took pleasure in knowing that he broke you.

**

Jamie, Murtagh, and the rest of the men were outside the estate when they heard a scream. Jamie stopped in his tracks, blood freezing in his veins as he heard you cry. He heard you cry, for him. He felt a fire in his soul. “That’s her.” He growled. He ran. He ran to the love of his life.

**

Your body hung limp, back covered in angry red gashes from the whippings. You focused on your breathing, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to spill from your chest. Randall came to stand in front of you, a cruel smile on his face.

“You scream quite prettily, my dear.” He said, his hand coming up to your face. He drug his thumb from your cheek and slowly down your body, down to your breast. His touch made you recoil in disgust.

You screamed in anguish, in frustration, in pain. His touch was like acid. You were angry that he broke you, that you screamed Jamie’s name, so you just – yelled. Your voice was hoarse, but you didn’t care. You screamed and yelled, letting out all the anger and frustration that had built up for hours. You thrashed against the bonds that held you, but it was useless.

Jamie heard you.

He heard your screams and his heart was pierced with a pain that was almost physical. He clenched his fists as he ran, the anger and desperation he felt almost overwhelming. He pressed on, moving faster than before, fueled by the sound of your cries.

Jamie reached the door of the room where you were being held. He was breathing heavily, beads of sweat on his forehead, and there was a fire in his eyes that was downright fearsome. The lads were just a few beats behind him, planning to hide away, allowing Randall to believe Jamie was alone.

Jamie kicked the door in. The sound of the door slamming off it’s hinges echoed through the room, and you heard the gasp of surprise from Randall. But Jamie didn’t stop, he strode into the room like a force of nature, his presence filling the space.

Jamie saw you. He saw you strung up, breasts exposed in your torn clothing, and full of blood. He saw the whip in Randall’s hand. His heart nearly stopped at the sight of you. His breath caught in his chest as he took in the scene before him. He had never seen you like this, never seen you so vulnerable, so broken.

His eyes rove over your body, taking in the damage done to you – the bruises on your face, the cuts, the blood that stained your body, the blood pooling on the floor from your back. His face paled, his jaw tightened as he felt the rage that threatened to consume him.

He looked at you. His eyes met yours, and despite the pain and the fear, you felt comfort in his gaze. He was there. He had come for you.

He breathed your name, his voice thick with emotion, and he took a step toward you, his hand reaching out to touch you. Randall steps between, blocking Jamie from you. The tension in the air was thick as the two men faced off.

“Well, well, Jamie Fraser.” Randall said, tone mocking. “Back again to save your damsel?”

Jamie’s eyes were dark with anger, his body coiled tight like a spring. “Step aside, Randall.” He growled, voice low and dangerous.

Randall raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, is that a threat, Fraser? You’re outnumbered here, remember. I’d watch your tongue if I were you.

“And I’d count again.” Murtaugh said, the many men who came to rescue you behind him.

Randall’s smirk faltered as he looked at the men standing behind Jamie. He clearly wasn’t expecting the show of force. “You’ve brought friends,” he sneered, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

You breathed a sigh of relief. Hearing that sprung Randall into action. He jumped behind you, still tied to the pillar with nowhere to go. You remained still. He pulled his knife and laid it threateningly against your throat.

Jamie paused, as did the men behind him. There was a tense silence as Jamie and the men stood still, their eyes fixed on Randall and the weapon pressed against your neck. You could almost feel the rage vibrating through Jamie’s body, but he seemed to be restraining himself.

“One more step and she dies.” Randall said, voice steady with a crazy look in his eye.

Jamie’s eyes locked on yours, desperation and anger in his gaze. His jaw was tight, his chest heaving as he fought the urge to launch himself at Randall, to protect you. You don’t say a word, afraid Jack’s knife would put an end to you. Instead, your teary eyes stayed locked on those of the love of your life. You looked at him for what you hoped was not the last time.

Jamie’s eyes never left yours, his face taught with emotion. His eyes were now swimming in tears as he looked at you, his chest heaving with the effort of controlling himself. He clenched and unclenched his fists, his body tight, ready to pounce should Randall have made a move. The only sound in the room was that of ragged breathing.

Randall didn’t know Murtagh was behind him. Murtagh, ever the stealthy one, had silently circled around the room, unnoticed. He positioned himself behind Randall silently, dagger in hand. He tried to have Jamie meet his eyes.

Jamie’s gaze quickly flicked from you to Murtagh, back to you. He clenched his jaw, the anticipation of what was about to happen nearly driving him mad. He subtly made eye contact with Murtagh a final time, signalling he was ready. There was a silent count to three.

Murtagh struck the back of Randall’s head with the butt of his dagger, knocking him unsteady. Randall’s grip on you slackened, his attention diverted as he stumbled from the blow. Jamie seized the opportunity and lunged forward.

As the chaos broke loose, a blow from another of the men knocked Randall away from you completely. Jamie made it to you in seconds, without hesitation he started to untie you, his hands trembling with urgency. You saw tears running slipping silently down his face as he loosened the rope, his touch gentle but firm. The moment your hands were free, he pulled you against him, holding you tightly against his chest.

You immediately started to cry, the relief overwhelming. You felt his body shudder against yours as he held you, squeezing as he buried his face in your hair. His breath was ragged and shaky and you could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“S’alright,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “S’alright Sassenach, I’ve got ye, now.”

He shed his plaid and wrapped it around your bare chest, taking great care not to touch the wounds on your back. You continued to sob against his chest, fingers clutching tightly to the fabric of his shirt. The horror of what just happened, the fear and the pain you felt, was all too much to bear. But being in his arms, feeling his strength and his love, it was everything you needed.

Your intimate moment was interrupted as you heard footsteps in the distance. Randall’s men must have heard the noise. The men all looked to Jamie, who took his attention away from you and looked at Randall’s unconscious body. You could see his mind swirling, part of him wanting to end Randall that very second, the other part knowing he needed to get you, and the rest of the men, out of there before the troops arrived.

Jamie’s jaw clenched as he looked at Randall a final time, his eyes dark with anger and a fierce desire for revenge, but he knew that time was running out and he had to prioritize getting you to safety.

“I’ll finish him later,” he muttered, barely containing his anger. He wrapped his arm around you and steered you toward the door. “Can you walk?” he whispered. You nodded your head, knowing you didn’t have a choice. The men followed us closely and we moved quickly, trying to put as much distance between us and the incoming cavalry as we could.

We ran into the night and found our horses. Murtagh and Jamie both helped you up, careful to avoid the open wounds on your back. Jamie got up behind you. You felt the safety of his strength surrounding you and your body finally relaxed. “Take me home, Jamie.” You muttered, voice barely more than a whisper in the wind.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against your hair. “We’ll be home before ye ken, Sassenach.” He whispered back, “I’ve got ye.”

The exhaustion and the pain took over now that the adrenaline had gone, and darkness overcame you. Jamie held you tightly as you rode, his body shielding you from the night air. He rode mindfully of your wounds, not wanting to jostle you too much. As he rode, he kept one arm around your waist while the other held the reins of the horse.

He was completely focused and hyperaware of his surroundings, his eyes skimming the landscape around him as he took in every shadow, every noise, every movement. He was a warrior on high alert, wanting to keep his love safe.

Eventually we arrived back home. Mrs. Fitz was waiting for you all, worried and hopeful that they would be coming home with you in tow. She rushed out to meet you as you approached, her face etched in concern. When she saw you, wrapped in a blood-soaked plaid and barely conscious, her eyes widened in alarm.

“I’ll get a bath started, Jamie. God be with the lass.”

Jamie nodded gratefully, his voice barely above a whisper, “Aye, thank ye Mrs. Fitz.” He swung off the horse and took you down, picking you up entirely and holding you in his arms, striding toward the house with you cradled against his chest.

You were put down, awake but in pain, in front of the bath. Mrs. Fitz left you to your privacy. Jamie took the tartan off of you, revealing the ripped clothes and bare chest underneath. His breath was taken, once again remembering the state of you when he walked into Randall’s room.

His hands were trembling as they brushed over the wounds on your body, his touch tender and light. His eyes were filled with pain and anger as he saw the evidence of Randall’s cruelty etched on your skin.

“You need to get in, mo ghrádh.” Jamie said gently. “It’s going to hurt your back, but what Mrs. Fitz put in will help.”

You nod, biting your lip against the tears threatening to fall. You knew he was right – the hot water and tonic would help clean the wounds, but the thought of the pain you were about to endure was almost more than you could bear.

Jamie helped you step into the tub, his hands steady and strong as he lowered you gently into the water. You gasped as the hot water made contact with your torn flesh, the pain sharp and seering.

Jamie’s closed his eyes for just a moment, full of grief knowing how much pain his love was in. But he opened them again and squeezed your hand in support. “S’alright.”

You clung to his hand, fingers white from the grip as the pain washed over you in waves. You grit your teeth and tried to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape from your throat.

Jamie grabbed a rag and wet it, cradling your face with one hand and gently cleaning the blood and dirt from your face, careful of the open wounds. His touch was gentle, as though he was handling something delicate and precious. Despite the pain that wracked your body, you leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his warmth.

He continued to work in silence, his attention fully focused on cleaning away the grime and blood from your body. Occasionally he would stop to stroke your hair or plant a soft kiss on your body, offering small gestures of comfort and reassurance.

He stopped and looked you in your face. “I need to clean the lashes now.”

You took a deep shuddering breath, bracing yourself for the most pain. “I know. Go ahead.”

He nodded, his mouth set in a grim line, and started to clean the wounds on your back. He worked methodically, carefully removing the dried blood and debris. You bit your lip from screaming at the pain, your body tense and rigid.

You could feel his heart breaking for you as he cleaned you up. As he continued to clean you, the water turned a murky grey. You could feel your strength fading away, the events of the night taking its toll on your body.

He finished, offering only a quiet apology and a gentle kiss on the forehead. He held his hand out and you took it gratefully. With his hand, you stepped out of the tub, reddish water running down your body. You were weak and shaky as Jamie dried you off.

Once covered, he picked you up in his arms again and carried you to your room. He set you down gently on your bed. You laid there feeling small and helpless as he uncovered you to inspect the lashings on your back. The skin was red and inflamed. He reached out to touch one and you flinched involuntarily.

“M’sorry.” He said gently, “I ken it hurts.” He looked at you with a mixture of pain and anger in his eyes, hating how much you were suffering.

He climbed in with you and carefully pulled you close. You snuggled in, needing his warmth. You sat quietly until Jamie’s broken voice cut the silence. “M’sorry. I understand if you blame me fer this.”

“No.” you replied softly but firmly. “It is not your fault. You couldn’t do anything to stop him, he’s a monster.”

He didn’t answer, but you could feel the tension in his body. You knew he was probably feeling helpless and angry at his inability to protect you.

You reached up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the contours of his jaw. His eyes met yours, and the raw emotion you saw there made your heart ache for him. You leaned up to kiss him.

He responded immediately, his lips meeting yours in a fierceness and desperation that makes you feel for him. He holds you even tighter, as if afraid you were going to disappear.

“I love ye. More than anythin’.”

“Mo chridhe,” He whispered, grabbing your attention. “Marry me. Marry me tomorrow. I cannae live, or die, without ye being my wife.”

It's a rowdy night at the bar, you're no stranger to nights like this, in fact you look forward to the heavy handed tips the men throw your way. Men splash ale on one another, women giggle and dance with each other, or in the arms of drunken men hoping to see the underside of their skirts. A few brawls break out but are quickly broken up by the owner and his son, Charles. Two level headed business men who refuse to partake in the drink, after spending most of their life in a tavern surrounded by babbling idiots. Just a typical night, you wouldn't have it any other way.

The height of the night is upon you and a group of four men walk in, one is quite small, one quite large, one a bit older, and one a redhead. They're clearly from around here, as the older one motions to a group and the table dispurses in an instant. Though they don't seem familiar to yourself, they're obviously recognized by the townsfolk. The tall red headed man, peers over towards the bar and eyes you, he does a double take as you're pouring two cups of ale and smiles devilishly in your direction.

Your eyes dart back and forth from the cups to the curious man, as you hand the ale to the women before you, when you notice him heading your way. Wiping your hands on your dress you smile and nod to him.

“What can I git ya, Mr..”

“Fraser, James Fraser.”

He extends his hand out and you shake it with a smile.

“What can I git ya, Mr.Faser?” You ask again.

“If you'd be so kind, a pale of your finest brew, for my lads.” He asks smiling.

“Of course,” you nod politely. “Four glasses?” You ask.

“Ah, pretty and astute.” He says.

“Pardon?” You say with a grin.

You load up a tray with cups and a pale of ale before him.

“It warms me to know my lands are not completely barren of bonny lasses like yeslef.” He winks, leaning against the bar.

“My lord!” You clatter the cups upon the tray, attempting to bow before the lord from behind the bar.

“Ay, no need to stand on ceremony for me, I am but a simple man, honored to be in the company of a beautiful woman…. It should be me who is bowing.”

He steps back and takes a slight bow before you. You feel your cheeks redden as a giggle erupts from within you as you clasp your hand over your chest.

“You're too kind, my lord. Please, enjoy the night and the spirits, on the house.” You reply gleefully.

“I appreciate it lass, although it will only be my men enjoying the drink tonight.”

You shoot him a puzzled look.

“While I appreciate your generosity, it is only the purest Scottish whisky I partake in these days.”

He winks devilishly at you before taking the tray in his hand and heading back over to the table with his men.

You wrack your brain thinking of where Charles and his father kept the good liquor. Normally the townsfolk couldn't dream of being able to afford a cup of pure Scottish whisky, nevermind get drunk off it. Thus, the owners kept a small stash of it in the back for occasions just as these.

You rush to the back of the alehouse and scan the dusty shelves lined with barrels of drink, mostly quickly brewed ale, what most of the townsfolk can afford. Peering in the darkened room, you spy two small glass bottles on the highest shelf. Peering around the room you spy a crate and hold your skirts up as you reach for the bottles. The crate beneath your foot lets out a large crack and you gasp gripping the dingy shelf tighter. It holds strong, as you retrieve the bottle and nestle it into the folds of your skirts while walking back out to the bar.

The lights and sounds hit you as you step from the darkness; the lord's eyes catching you and you smile. Peering around the room, you attempt to make your way back to the bar. You grab a whisky glass, dust it off and dry it before uncorking the bottle of whisky, its aroma fills your nose with delightful notes of amber and woods. You fill a glass and quickly slip the bottle away under the bar away from the patrons view. Placing the glass upon a tray amongst some other cups of ale, you make your way over to Lord Frasers table.

His men are loud in conversation and do little to acknowledge your presence. Lord Fraser grins wildly at you, and you return the smile as you place the glass of whisky in front of him. He peers down at the glass, doing another double take as his thick head of red locks tousle. You quickly disappear into the crowd before saying a word.

Behind the bar, Charles bustles about tending to patrons.

“Where have you been!?” He demands.

“I'm sorry, Charles, Lord Fraser and his men are seated over there and I thought it well to deliver a gift to his table.”

Charles slams the empty ale cups on the bar and peers around the bar.

“Ay, Lord Fraser you say?” He asks.

“Yes, he…he's right over there.” You say pointing in his direction.

The red headed lord looks over his shoulder seeing you point towards him and gives a faint wave. You smile and settle back on your feet, Charles sneering at your interaction with the lord.

“Ay, must go pay my respects I suppose.”

Charles bounds from behind The bar and barges his way through the crowded tavern. You pour drinks for the men in front of you, their eyes barely open with intoxication.

Charles approaches the lord and slaps him firmly on the shoulder. Lord Fraser stands and shakes Charles’ hand. Their conversation is unheard, but the Lord points toward you and smiles. He shows his whisky glass to Charles and you drop your gaze as you pour more ale cups for the customers approaching the bar.

Moments later Charles reappears behind the bar.

“Offering whiskey to the Lord was a good move, …he says he'll recommend the tavern to all who ask!”

You smile coyly as you wipe the clean glass in your hand.

“Ay, hurry and put that bottle back before a drunk sees it, and a brawl breaks out over it though, eh?”

You nod and secretly snatch the bottle of whiskey from under the bar, hiding it again in the folds of your skirts and hurry back down the darkened hallway towards the back of the alehouse.

You rush as you hear the roar of men and know you should hurry to return to the bar. In the darkened room you reach up, stepping to reach the highest shelf, when your full weight settels on the crate, a loud creak sounds from under your foot. You freeze, instantly remembering the uncertainty of the crate from earlier. The bottle is almost on the shelf as you carefully reach just a bit higher.

‘CRAAACK’

But its too late and you feel the crate give way. You shield your face with your arms as you prepare for the hard ground below you. You hear the smash of the whisky bottle but feel the padded landing of nothing compared to a hard floor. It takes you only a moment to realize you haven't hit the ground at all, but have fallen into the arms of… you peer up spying his vibrant blue eyes and shaggy red hair. Even in the dark, his features are flawless.

“My lord!” You gasp.

He eases you down on the ground and you stand close to him between the narrow shelves.

“Ay, are you alright lass?” He asks in a low gruff tone with a smirk.

“...I…Yes, thank you.. my Lord..” you say breathless, taken aback.

His hand reaches up and brushes your stray hairs from your face, gently tucking them behind your ear. Your breath catches in your throat at his touch. He's standing so close to you, holding your face in his hands.

“...My Lord..” you manage to squeeze out of your tight chest.

He brushes a finger over your lips.

“Shhh… Jamie, please call me Jamie.” He says with a smile.

You exhale quickly, your pulse quickens and your mind races, trying to comprehend what is happening.

“Tell me lass, would you do me the honors of allowing me…to…I would very much like to..to kiss you?”

You swallow hard, your core burning hearing his words. Your breath quickens yet again as you gasp slightly.

He searches for an answer in your eyes, cradling your face in his hands, his face slowly turns to terror.

“I'm…I'm so sorry lass, this was…”

“Yes!” You force yourself to speak quickly.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you. Slowly, he brushes his lips against yours. Gently caressing your jaw, he draws your face up towards his. Then harder he presses, his tongue gently grazing your mouth. He takes his time exploring your plump wet lips; softly grazing his teeth against them. Finally, he cocks his head, and his mouth devours yours. You moan into him, his hands gently gripping your neck lapping at your tongue.Your hands slide up under his coats and he quickly sheds them. His blunt finger tips trail down your neck, over your chest and pluck at the ties of your dress. He prys them from each intricate hole, as his mouth devours yours.

With the last lace your dress, your breast's spring free and he holds you firmly by the waist as he takes in full view of them before him. Your hips grind against his as you both stand gasping, wide eyed. His hand reaches to palm your breast, but pauses;

“…Would it be alright…; his hand shaking as he speaks. “..For me to touch you?..”

Your own hands creep along his large muscular torso, up to his collar where you carefully unbutton his shirt. Staring at his broad sculpted chest, you trail your fingers down his pecs, your fingers tracing the indents in his abs.

“…You may touch me…anywhere you please.” You reply shakily.

His rough hands squeeze your breasts, you take a sharp inhale. His fingers press into your soft sensitive skin, gently rubbing your nipples between his fingers as you moan.

His stomach covered with a thin layer of sweat as his chest huffs up and down, admiring you. You release him from your touch and reach behind your back to loosen the straps of your corset. It drops to the ground at your feet and the front of your blouse falls, exposing your skin to the cool damp air. His hands grip your hips, softly at first, then diggin his fingertips harder in your skin. He reaches down and lifts you by your ass up against the wall, pinning you as he buries his face within your breasts.

He kisses them softly, trailing his mouth down your stomach and back up, taking your nipples in his mouth and sucking eagerly at them. You gasp with pleasure, running your fingers through his thick head of hair. He grunts against your soft skin, his stubble rubbing you raw as he’s lapping, and sucking, and kissing the soft supple tits in his face.

You moan against him, panting breathlessly, before exploding with a sudden shout of pleasure. His teeth sink into the sensitive skin around your nipple, he pulls his head back taking it in his mouth again and sucks hard. It ignites a new sensation in your core, aching against him.

Suddenly, the door flings open, light rushing in shining perfectly upon the two of you, you gasp. Prying your faces from one another, he cranes his head and does his best to shelter you from the light peeking in.

“What in the bloody hell, is going on in here!?” Booms Charles voice.

Charles spies Jamie's piercing blue eyes staring back at him, seething with lust and anger..

“…My Lord, forgive me…” Charles stutters.

“Aye, close the door, this lass deserves proper privacy!” Jamie bellows back.

The door shuts abruptly and Jamie drops you to the ground gently.

“My..sincere apologies, lass..” he says breathlessly.

He kisses you hungrily again and you pull him against you, savoring his taste; the warmth of whisky, amber and wood, with the heat of lust and hunger. With his hands firmly on your waist, he prays himself from you and stares down longingly in your eyes.

“We…should probably get out of here..” he says in a huff.

“Jamie, no!” You plead, urgently. “You can’t, please!…don’t stop now!” You beg, pushing against him.

He grunts with your forcefulness, pinned between you and the wall, you stare up at him pleading with your eyes to him. He shoots you an apologetic look, eyeing the door.

“…Lass…” he says, stroking your hair softly.

You stand against one another still panting.

“Jamie!” You moan against his damp skin.

You pepper kisses across his chest, you are not about to let him leave, not now! Quickly, you decide to do something that would force him to stay. Something he couldn’t refuse to deny, nor could any man.

You peer down at his stomach, quivering a bit, eagerly undoing his belt and the front of his trousers. You pry them open, carefully grabbing his cock in your hand and pull it out from the layers of fabric. He groans at your touch, and you kneel down in front of him.

His cock; slowly growing stiffer and longer, in the grasp of your small warm hand. You feel the wetness slick and hot between your legs. Peering up with hunger in your eyes, you lick your lips and gently press his warm tip to your lips. You shoot your tongue out, wrapping his head in your warm mouth and peer back up at him.

“Shall we leave?…” You ask in a hushed voice.

“Christ lass, don’t stop now!” He cries, tilting his head back.

You wrap your wet lips around his pushing tip, swirling your tongue around him with a gentle tug. Your hand stroking him as you wetten his shaft with your mouth inch by inch. You have him right where you want him.