#milesbetweenus

"Five minutes," she replied, scrunching her nose at Annalise for bringing up the sore subject. She handed the bottle and her credit card to the shop owner before facing her friend. "I've sent Jamie a message, and he hasn't replied yet. He's got some explaining to do ...sending me away like this with too little notice." She let out an unladylike grunt. "Why can't our men be here? We're in a beautiful location ...romantic even ..." She waved a hand in the air to prove a point. "I don't understand why you're not so bothered not spending time with your boyfriend when you rarely see him, and you're only here until Monday."

"Oh, poor us girls! Without our men! God help us!"

Claire fought a smile. "Hey, now, if I recall correctly, I had to listen to you moan endlessly about not seeing Willie enough. What was that again, you said just a week ago over the phone?" She tapped her chin and pretended to go through her memory bank. "You can't stand living without him."

"Correction, missy. I told you I couldn't stand living on my own in London. Which means I'm not used to not having you around."

"Ah, my mistake. Must have misheard that part." Annalise snorted a laugh and went to grab a bottle of gin from the shelf, leaving Claire once again to thoughts of Jamie. Any day now, John would summon her back to London, probably with Mary Hawkins and Tom Christie in tow. Though she dreaded going back, she'd placated those thoughts by telling herself she'd be moving to the Highlands soon. 

Despite the valuable inroads to their relationship, Claire wondered if she would have given up London and her job so soon, supposing that Jamie hadn't had PTSD. Would their relationship have moved this fast? She immediately quelled that thought because deep down, she knew in her heart whatever their circumstances might have been, they would have chosen to be together whether it was too soon or not.

She glanced once more at her phone, inwardly debating whether to call Jamie or not. What the hell is he up to? She hadn't heard a peep from him since she'd left the cottage. Something was definitely up, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"So, this work of yours is moving along fast. I bet you can't wait to start your life in the Highlands with your love, no less. So, what's the plan? Are you and Jamie buying a bigger property together, or will you be staying in the cottage to see how the relationship pans out?" 

"His cottage for now. As for what lies ahead, we haven't talked about that far into the future yet."

"Quite right. Future planning is tedious, anyway. It's pretty obvious you and Jamie are meant to be together, no matter what. I saw it coming from a mile away. The way he looks at you ...you can literally see smoke coming out of his ears." Annalise comically waggled her eyebrows as she eyed the other sample bottles on the counter.

"Well, since we're talking about the future and wotnots," Claire began, lowering her voice, "I have been doing a lot of thinking myself. For starters, I want to have Jamie's babies one day." 

Annalise's eyes widened. 

She frowned. "Wot?"

"Babies?"

"Yes, babies." When Annalise continued to stare at her, Claire groaned. "Not now, though, silly! Our relationship might be going at full speed, but God ...I have other plans in mind before that happens."

"Yes, I get that ...but ...but have you and Jamie talked about babies?"

Claire gave the store owner an apologetic smile and pulled Annalise into the alcove by the window. "No. As I said, we haven't talked anything about the future. What's wrong with you? I know it's too early to be talking about babies, but everyone knows where our relationship is heading to. Eventually, somewhere down the line, starting a family would be the next step. Or did you think my move to the Highlands is experimental?"

"No! Of course not! It's not that ... it's..."

"It's wot?"

"I, ah ...the babies part."

"Jesus, Annalise, what's your fret about babies?"

"There's no fret!"

"What is it then?"

"I, ... I'm not sure if I should be the one telling you this, but ..."

"Tell me wot?"

"I thought you knew because why else would Jamie ..."

"Know what? For God's sake, spit it all out! It quite apparent you know something."

Annalise shook her head and sighed. "It's something Willie told me. It was right after when Jamie started to remember bits and pieces about his past. Willie thinks Jamie may have been deeply affected by what he'd learned. You know ...him witnessing your parents' death and you becoming an orphan at such a young age." She puffed out a breath. "Jamie confided to his brother that ...he doesn't want to have children because he doesn't think he'd be able to bear it if they would go through something as horrible as what you've both been through. I know that's not really Jamie talking, and I understand those fears are coming from a place brought about by his condition. Maybe it's something both of you should talk about. I thought Jamie might have already mentioned it."

Claire paused for a few heartbeats, absorbing Annalise's words. Should I be worried? A part of her knew it was his PTSD symptoms amplifying those fears in Jamie's head. The other part, she wasn't too sure. But he'd made so much progress, she thought. She waved a hand in dismissal and let out a humourless laugh. "Oh ... don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure Jamie didn't mean to say that in its entirety. You know how men are like ...they tend to have reservations about children and stuff like that in the beginning. Besides, he understands how his condition affects his reasoning, decisions and emotions. He's very aware of that. He told me so. So him saying not wanting to have children is not a projection of what's truly in his heart." She gave her friend a reassuring smile even though a smidge of uncertainty was starting to creep in. "Jamie and I are in love," she said with all the conviction she could muster. "And we've proven that with love, we can achieve anything. As for his current views about not having children, they will eventually change. After what he's been through, it's understandable he'd be worried about history repeating itself. He's slowly but surely recovering, and as soon as the new therapist arrives, it can only get better from there. I'm quite sure of it"

"Claire ..."

"There's nothing to worry about," she said firmly this time. 

Annalise grabbed her hand. "Claire ...I have no doubt that he loves you. Even a blind man can see that. But think about this. What if ...what if he can't give you what you want? I mean babies. That's what you want one day, isn't it?" When Claire nodded, she continued. "You should talk to Jamie about your dreams of having children one day before moving here to Scotland. I don't want you to invest your time and emotion in a relationship that will probably end in regrets. I like Jamie, and I love you, and I love the love you have for each other. But I don't want to see the both of you hurt ...just because you failed to see each other eye to eye. Please promise me you'll talk about this with Jamie before turning your life upside down and moving here to Scotland and start playing house. There's a lot at stake here, Claire. Please, just talk to him. At least you know if you're both on the same page or not."

"Fine. I'll talk to Jamie. But under one condition." Annalise nodded in response. "If we're going to have this break together, promise me to refrain from any more baby talks."

"You started it."

Claire sighed. "Yes, I did," she admitted. "But it ends now."

"Alright, but I'm only going to say one more thing and then we can go back to holiday mode." Annalise made a broad gesture. "I can see that our little talk rattled you a bit. And don't you dare deny it!" When Claire shrugged and made a gesture to carry on, she proceeded. "I just want you to know, despite the uncertainties you may be harbouring right now, ...thanks to my big mouth, nothing changes the fact that Jamie loves you. I'm sure after you've talked, you'll arrive at some compromise about this baby thingy."

Despite herself, Claire laughed out loud and rolled her eyes. "Holy hell, we sure are a bizarre duo, aren't we? Poor Jamie. Here we are talking about babies when he probably hasn't even thought about marriage. If he could hear us talk right now, he'll probably put me on the next flight to London."

Annalise looked at her sheepishly. "Or perhaps not. Shall we get going?"

She raised a dubious eyebrow at her friend. "Hey. What's that look for?" 

Annalise wandered back to the check-out counter, laughing. "That was my wise, venerable sage look. You like?"

"No, knock it bloody off!"

..........

Jamie pressed the cold pack against his throbbing eye and tried unsuccessfully to tamp down his irritation at Quentin. Stood in the cottage's open space lounge, which comprised the kitchen and dining area, he turned away to face one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. For the first time, he noticed the stunning vistas before him. Looking out to the south, there's the view of the village and valley, and the west the vast, beautiful beach, and to the north, the rolling hills. Under normal circumstances, he would have enjoyed the sceneries, but the crunching sound of Quentin's meat mallet on walnuts might as well have been a tree stump grinder splintering his skull.

"Do ye mind?" Jamie muttered, turning around to glower at Claire's uncle. "That godawful sound is making my headache worse." 

"Stop whingeing." Quentin didn't bother to glance up from the chopping board on which he seemed resolved to make continuous head-splitting rackets. "Because of you, I haven't eaten all day. What kind of boys' trip is this anyway? There's no food or booze except for the bottle of expensive champagne... these walnuts ...and that ..." He jutted his chin at the fruit basket and shook his head in disgust. "Sorry I can't accommodate your headache." He watched the walnut shell fly across the counter when his mallet hit the chopping board. "As for the black eye, I'm sorry about that too."

Willie chuckled from behind his open newspaper as he lifted his feet to rest them on the coffee table. "Everyone will now think Claire dropped one on ye. How did it happen again? I didnae quite catch the whole story since both of ye were too busy grumbling at one another when I arrived."

Jamie glared with one eye. "As ye've already gathered, Quentin did this." He pointed his index finger at the evidence and adjusted the cold pack with a free hand. "And I cannae for the life of me understand why it was supposed to be a good thing."

"I told you already ...we had a bit of miscommunication," Quentin shot.

"Miscommunication?" Jamie sputtered, throwing a hand in the air in disbelief. He spun around and faced Willie. "I said to him if I start having one of my panic attacks on the ferry..."

"...you wanted to be knocked out," Quentin interjected.  

"Jesus Christ! I never said that, and I wasnae having a panic attack. I was feeling queasy."

"Yes, so queasy he turned green," Quentin added, hammering the walnut with more force this time, making Jamie flinch at the offensive sound. "And here I thought he was having a panic attack. He never mentioned anything about being prone to seasickness. So when he started to act all weird on me, I decked him."

"On my eye of all places!" Jamie shouted, slamming the cold pack on the kitchen counter. "When I said I'd knock myself out, I meant I'd take my medication and sleep it off in the car." He pointed a finger to his eye. "Look at this ...I look like I participated in a pub brawl."

Willie glanced up before turning a page of the newspaper. "Aye, that ye do."

"Well, you should have told me more about your condition," Quentin stressed, pointing the mallet at him. "How was I supposed to know what a panic attack looks like?"

Jamie blew out a breath. "Even if it was a panic attack, what made ye think socking me on the eye is the answer?"

Quentin shrugged. "I guess I get panic attacks too, ...now there!" When Jamie turned away in frustration, he pressed on. "Look at the bright side ...I got rid of your seasickness and saved you from having a relapse."

"I told ye already I wasnae having a panic attack, and I havenae had one for some time now!"

"Hey, may I remind you that I offered to drive Claire and Annalise to the airport and fly in later as Willie did? Your brother would have been in a better position to deal with your condition. I know you wanted to talk more about that bloody bench, but ..." Quentin shook his head as if remembering something. "Say ...I still don't understand why we haven't gone altogether. All this palaver with keeping this whole thing a secret and Willie taking the next plane after dropping off the girls." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Another thing, no one's told me yet where the girls were heading to."

Jamie gave his brother a warning cough.

Willie sighed and lowered his newspaper. "The lassies are somewhere having fun. Anyway, ye'll be getting yer wish granted. Ye'll be flying in my place when we return back to the mainland. Jamie told me CalMac ferries banned ye for a year."

Jamie bit back a smile at Willie's smooth change of subject.

"So Jamie told you." Quentin popped a walnut in his mouth. "Did he also tell you he didn't even try to explain to the police that it wasn't my intention to knock him out cold? That my intention was to help."

Jamie took a slow breath. "How could I? My head was still reeling from your punch. The police could only take in reports from eyewitnesses." 

Quentin cast the mallet aside and flattened both hands on the counter. "All right, all right ....never mind that. What's done is done, and I apologised already." He paused for a few beats and frowned. "So ... what's happening now? Why are we sitting around in this cottage when we could be organising some grub and booze?"

"Just hang fire for a little bit more." Jamie took out his phone and pretended to fiddle with it. It was becoming more difficult to distract Quentin by the second, but he needed to do this right if his plan was going to work. "The landlord is supposed to stop by. It shouldn't be long now."

"Well ..." Quentin glanced at the wall clock. "If the landlord doesn't come anytime soon, I'm going to find the nearest pub. I'm starving. And don't tell me to eat fruits. I want a proper hot meal. And I need a drink after the morning we had."

Not happening! Jamie couldn't have him doing that. "Look, dinnae start lining yer imaginary shots just yet. Pubs open much later here. Maybe while we're waiting, ye can show me that bench we were talking about." He gave Quentin a meaningful look. "Remember? It's one of the reasons why we came here for. Ye've delayed it long enough bashing those walnuts."

Quentin lifted an eyebrow. "Can you blame me? If we'd eaten first, we wouldn't be having this discussion, and we could be looking at that bench already. As it stands, I have to settle for walnuts. Besides, can't the bench wait? You said this trip would be entertaining. And smashing walnuts is not my idea of entertainment."

Jesus, why does everything have to be difficult with this man? 

Willie finally took pity on Jamie as he regarded them both with a mixture of impatience and amusement. "Look, I ken ye're both a bit on edge and didn't have a good start to the day." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I know ye're hungry, Quentin, and I know yer eye's in pain, Jamie, but bickering at one another is no' gonnae help yer cause." He clasped his hands and gave Jamie a knowing look. "Why don't ye both go and look at that bloody bench while I wait here for the landlord. That way, we're getting something done. Fair enough?"

"Fine." Jamie and Quentin said simultaneously.

Willie's head briefly fell back, and he heaved a relieved exhale up at the ceiling. "Finally, they agreed on something."

Quentin ignored Willie and looked at Jamie. "Right, we might as well." He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "If you'll follow me," he instructed before heading for the front door.

Jamie glanced at his brother, who just nodded and returned back to reading the newspaper. Rolling his head on his shoulders, he followed Quentin out of the house and to the back garden. 

Halfway, Quentin glanced back at him. "So ...about that bench, you still remember this place?"

"Only vaguely," Jamie responded quietly, overcome with acute nostalgia as he began to take in his surroundings. 

The last few nights, while Claire had been cooped up in the shed doing edits, he and Quentin had been trying to piece their history together, mostly to help Jamie understand the past. It had been a frustrating feat at best for Quentin, trying to unravel Jamie's memories as a toddler that they'd almost laid the past to rest. Until Jamie had mentioned a bench with engravings in a garden of a coastal retreat, he'd once visited as a wee bairn. To his astonishment, Quentin had immediately known the place. The more they'd talked about it, the more the memory of that day made sense and became vivid until an idea came to Jamie's mind ...to use this trip for his plan.

When they reached the back of the house, they came to a stop, and there in the middle of the freshly trimmed lawn was the bench. Fragmented images began to flood Jamie's brain, colliding together to form a vivid picture. As if being pulled by an invisible force, he made his way towards the seat. Laying a hand on the surface, he caressed the weather-worn wood, relying on his heart to know what to search for. When he found the familiar yet foreign carving, he knew he'd made the right decision to arrange this trip. "Here it is."

Quentin stooped down beside Jamie to take a better look. "Jesus, it is really here," he whispered. "Just as Henry told me." He glanced at Jamie. "And you remembered. How old were you when you were last here?"

Jamie sat on the bench and briefly squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he took a deep breath. "At the most, I must have been four. It was summer. My ma needed a break from us boys, so Murtagh took Willie and me on a trip here to visit Harry. Jenny stayed behind. I cannae mind what Harry was doing here, but I do remember him showing me this when my godfather disappeared into the house." His fingers traced the engraving. "I never understood then what it meant when he read it out to me. He'd told me it was our wee secret."

"It was a secret, alright. Henry wouldn't have wanted Murtagh to know." 

"Aye, I sort of caught the gist of it then even though I was too young to understand."

Quentin spoke with a distant look in his eyes. "Henry told me everything that happened that day and how it had been difficult for him to keep their trip here a secret from Julia. It was supposed to be a surprise."

Jamie couldn't help laughing out loud. He knew the feeling. "Aye, I can imagine," he replied, hoping Quentin would finally take the hint and see the real reason behind this trip.

"Did you know Henry had always wanted a son for his firstborn?" Quentin asked out of the blue. "Don't get me wrong, though. Claire was the light of his life, and he loved her. So much so, he would stare at her for hours while she slept. So Julia told me anyway. But he'd always said he wanted a son. I think it had something to do with him spending a lot of time with you and your brother during the summer, even before he met Julia." He smiled at Jamie. "He had fond memories of you and your brother, and it was very apparent from the stories he told me of you."

"A son," Jamie murmured, shifting on the bench as another memory popped up. "Aye, he'd mentioned something about wanting a son. He used to joke about having one, one day ...a strong lad like me were his words." He got up from his position and scoured the seat once more with his fingers and eyes, trying hard to remember where the other etching was. "I seem to recall myself asking Harry what if the baby turns out to be a girl. I cannae mind his reply, but he told me to pick a girl's name because he'd already had one for a boy. After I picked one, he carved both names we came up with on this bench ... it's here somewhere."

"Really?" Propping his specs on his nose, Quentin hunched over and began to search. "Can you remember the name you chose?"

He shook his head. "I probably came up with something daft ...like some cartoon character Jenny used to watch. "

"Or perhaps not." Quentin hunkered down, gliding his hand over the wooden surface of the edge of the bench. "Take a look at this." He stood up and took a step back to allow Jamie to see better.

What Jamie saw next took his breath away and only confirmed that niggling feeling in his guts. It hadn't been a misplaced memory nor a dream. He unseeingly watched Quentin squat down again to take a better look at the engraving, barely able to formulate words to express his emotions over the thoughts running through his head. Was this Harry's way of sending him a message ...a blessing of some sort? Or was it just some quirk in the universe, and everything had been purely coincidental? If it was the former, he'd been taken on a merry rough ride, and he could almost envision Harry's delight at his handiwork, watching them by the sidelines. Like Quentin, he was momentarily at a loss for words.

"You know, Henry's been gone for years," Quentin finally spoke after a long silence. "And it astounds me that you refer to him by his nickname with such familiarity. Only Julia called him Harry. As a matter of fact, now that I think of it, sometimes you talk about him as if he's still alive. You may have forgotten many of your memories of Harry, but it's quite obvious the special bond you had with him is still there, and it must have made an impact on your life."

Jamie almost laughed out loud. If only Quentin knew. He debated whether to say anything about Harry's mysterious appearances, but after a few indecisive heartbeats, he thought, bugger it. He might as well let the cat out of the bag. "Harry has appeared to me," he blurted rapidly before he could change his mind. "Numerous time. As solid and as real as we are standing here right now."

Quentin frowned. "What do you mean?"

Briefly, he filled Quentin in on the mystery that was Harry, from the first time the appearances began and everything in between and watched an array of expressions register on the older man's face. "I've only shared this story with Willie and Claire, and now ...you. It's not something I like to share with just anyone. But because ye're Harry's brother, I thought ye ought to know as well."

Quentin let out a low whistle. "That's some story. I don't know what to say. I've never believed in all these mumbo-jumbo spirit sightings, but ..." He let out a huge sigh. "...though your story is bizarre, strangely enough, I believe you. That night when you mentioned this place and this bench, I dreamt of Henry after. For the first time in years. He was sat right here, not saying a word. That's why I agreed to go on this trip. The notion that he may be trying to say something did occur to me and thought I might as well see this special place of Henry and Julia for myself."

Jamie let out an exhale of relief just as he saw Willie walking in their direction. His brother made a motion of tapping his watch, which could only mean one thing. He needed to make a move. Straightening up to his full body height, Jamie faced Quentin and cleared his throat. "Speaking about this place ..." He swallowed and braced himself. "I haven't been entirely honest with ye."

"Is that so?"

Willie came to stand beside them, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Jamie disregarded his brother's knowing smirk. "There's also another reason for this trip that I meant to tell ye."

Quentin muttered a curse. "You're going to tell me this isn't the all-lads trip you'd been going on about, is that it?"

"Aye ...no! I mean ..." He tunnelled impatient fingers through his hair. "What I meant to say is ...with everything falling into place ...Harry, the engravings on this bench a-and how our history are sort of intertwined together ...I -I thought ...right here and now would be a perfect time."

"Perfect time for?"

Jamie puffed out a breath. "Perfect time to ask for your blessing."

"Blessing for what?" Quentin's brow puckered, but by then, he knew Jamie well enough, and it only took a quick study of the situation to determine exactly what was going to be asked. Quentin's eyes widened at the realisation. "Holy hell, Jamie! Are you bloody kidding me? Is this what all this has been about?"

"It's been coming to this, cannae ye see it?" He worked to steady his voice. "Ye dreamt of Harry sat on this bench. That must mean something, and ye know it. Everything that's happened to me ...Claire coming to the Highlands ....those ..." He pointed at the bench. "...those engravings ....they didn't happen by chance. All of it has led to this day.."

"Jesus! I can't believe you're making me want to thump you a few hours after I just walloped you on the eye and apologised for it." He rolled up the sleeves of his top. "I was just beginning to warm up to you, lad. But it has to be done. It's a rule."

"Rule? What bloody rule?" He watched Quentin clenched and unclenched his fist. "Ye really are gonnae thump me, is that it?"

"Rule is rule," Willie murmured, watching them closely while sneaking glances at his phone. "But best get this settled soon because we dinnae have much time left."

"Time for what?" Quentin shot. "What the bloody hell is going on now?"

Jamie's patience was swiftly deteriorating. "Look, Quentin ...ye can thump me later, alright? I'll even offer ye my good eye. But right now, I need yer blessing." 

Quentin laughed incredulously. "Listen, son, you don't get to schedule your own thumping." 

That was the last straw. Whatever patience Jamie had left dissolved. There was no time for pussyfooting. He took two steps forward and brought his face close to Quentin's. The older man looked too shocked to react, so Jamie took advantage. "Listen to me, ye cantankerous ol' git. I tried being patient with ye because I know ye like me even if ye have a funny way of showing it. But this intent on giving me grief for whatever demented reason ye have and deriving joy out of it is bloody mental. So, I'm asking ye in the nicest possible way ...give me yer blessings. Ye're gonnae give it to me anyway. So cut out all this shite and give it to me now."

A tense silence between the men ensued, and they all stood stock-still waiting for each other to give in, and the only discernible sound to be heard was the waves crashing on the beach.

When the phone notification went off, Quentin and Jamie momentarily forgot their stand-off and whipped their attention to Willie. "So gentlemen, what is it going to be? It's nearly showtime."

Quentin's eyes narrowed. "Showtime?"

..........

"Òran na Mara," Claire read out loud as they drove past the hand-carved wooden sign. "Song of the sea. How very fitting."

"I think it's romantic," Annalise whispered in response, smiling at her from the passenger seat in front. 

"Weel, here we are," the driver announced as they pulled into the driveway. "Welcome to yer home for the next few days." 

Claire leaned forward to take a better look at the cottage with a thatched roof and stone wall. Though it retained its traditional features, the beautiful structure had all the subtle hallmarks of luxury, and she could tell it had been sympathetically modernised without compromising its original character. She smiled when she caught a glimpse of the white sand beach and the turquoise Atlantic ocean. "This is gorgeous, Annalise. Jamie's outdone himself with this surprise."

"He certainly has," Annalise grinned. "Shall we?"

They both hopped out, and while Annalise sorted out the driver, Claire could only stand there in awe of the surrounding. Everywhere she turned, there was something to look at - beaches, rolling hills, and islands on the horizon. She was so taken by the natural beauty around her, she didn't even notice the car drive away. 

"Wait till you see inside. Jamie showed me pictures of the interior." Annalise walked up to the house and opened the wooden door, and Claire followed, hefting her luggage.

Inside was just as breathtaking as outside. "Wow," Claire breathed, admiring the views from the numerous windows. "This place is huge. There's probably enough room to accommodate ten people here. What are we going to do with all this space? The boys should have come."

Annalise just shrugged and smiled as she opened the glass door that led to the back garden overlooking the beach. "Why don't you go out and enjoy the view. There's a seat over there. I'll go and find us something to drink."

She stepped out of the cottage and sucked in a deep breath of salty air, and immediately felt at peace. Shading her eyes from the sun, she surveyed the curved bay of the beach and the peninsula in the backdrop. As far as she could see, there wasn't a soul in the area, nor were there passing cars to be heard, just the sound of nature, white sands and blue skies ahead. Oddly enough, the scenery uncannily reminded her of her mother's painting, which hung in her family home in Oxford, making her momentarily wonder if it was still there.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and swiped the screen. There was still no message from Jamie. She decided it was no use pining over him when he must have spent a fortune sending her here to have some quality time with her best friend. He was thoughtful that way, even though sometimes to a fault. With a shake of her head, she shoved her phone back in her jeans, but something brought her up short as she made her way towards the bench. A familiar scent.

Before she could turn around to seek for the source, a pair of strong arms slid around her waist, soft, warm lips gliding along the back of her neck.

Exhilaration snapped in her veins. "Jamie," she breathed, turning around to wrap him in her arms. "You're here."

"I'm here," Jamie returned gruffly, his big hand rubbing circles on the small of her back. "Did ye really think I'd let ye out of my sight for a whole weekend when ye could be returning to London anytime soon?" He buried his face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling his nose against her skin. 

"A part of me didn't think so." She tipped her head back and forced him to look at her. When his face came to view, she did a double-take. "Your eye! What happened?"

His lips twitched. "Dinnae fash, Sassenach. It's just a minor accident. So, do ye like yer surprise?"

Her lungs released the pent-up breath she was holding in a rush. "I love it and even more so now that you're here." 

He smiled and took a moment to search her eyes before their mouths joined, warm hands cradling her face. His tongue parted her lips and stroked with the utmost tenderness in a slow, savouring kiss making her aware of their hearts pounding in unison.

"Sassenach ..." He trailed off to brush his lips against her temple. "Before anything else, there's something I have to show ye."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Another surprise?"

Tongue tucked into his cheek, he momentarily glanced over her shoulder before his gaze ticked back to hers. "I suppose ye can call it that. Have ye been here before?"

She noticed the immediate gravity in Jamie's expression as he kissed her brow. "No. I haven't. But I must admit this place does feel familiar."

"How so?"

"The views ...it reminds me of my mother's painting. She's probably been here at one point."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "She was."

"She was? How do you know? Uncle Lamb told you?" she asked rapidly.

"Patience, woman! Too many questions all at once." He tugged her towards the bench, and when he let go, he stooped over the seat and ran a hand over the wooden surface. He glanced up at her and smiled. "Come here and take a look at this."

Claire did as she was told, and as she crouched down, her eyes landed on a string of words carved in what looked like a feeble attempt at calligraphy.

 Henry and Julia - At the end, as at the start, through all the in-betweens, until the world stops spinning.

 A choppy breath passed her lips as she ran her fingertips over the etchings. "It's my mum and dad."

"Aye."

"They were here." She stood up and looked around her, this time, trying to see the surroundings through their eyes. "It makes sense dad brought mum to this place. It's so romantic, and from stories I've been told, he was just ...that. And I can imagine my mum sitting here on this very spot, capturing the moment with her artwork." An intense wave of gratitude suddenly rose, almost making the moisture in her eyes spill. Jamie had done this for her because he knew, just like him, she was trying to put the pieces of her past together. "God, this is bloody insane. I wouldn't have seen this if we hadn't met."

"Ye want to hear the best part?"

She gave him a wobbly smile. "Go on then."

"Yer da proposed to your ma on this very bench."

She let out a soft expulsion of breath. Something expansive and extraordinary stirred within. It was as if, in this very moment, Jamie's revelation had taken back to her parents' past and was there to witness it. "I don't know what to say." 

"The carvings on the bench was yer da's tribute to the day he proposed to yer ma."

"And you know this, how?" she asked quietly.

"Yer uncle and I put two and two together," Jamie explained, with a one-shoulder shrug. "I told ye ....some memories of my childhood have started to come back. Weel, this was one of them. When I mentioned to Quentin about how yer father showed me his handiwork on this bench when I was a wee lad, he'd figured this was the place Harry proposed. Yer father must have spoken of this place to yer uncle. I didnae understand any of it back then. I was too young. I wouldnae have realised the significance of it if I hadn't told Quentin about it. After some thoughts, I knew I had to come back and see it for myself just to prove I hadn't imagined any of it."

"But did you have to put me on a charter plane?" she softly admonished. "With Tom Christie? Are you mates with him now?"

"Tom is often hired to fly some goods to Stornoway for some restaurant. When I heard he'd be flying today, I thought it fitted perfectly with my plan. I must admit it pained me to ask him to take ye girls, but he was happy enough to sneak ye in."

"We could have flown here together."

"Aye, we could have." He took her hand in his and played with her fingers. "But I wasnae sure how I'd fare in the plane with my PTSD. Besides, I had a few personal businesses to attend to. 

"Such as?"

He shook his head in amusement and kissed her lips, lingering there before drawing away. "Ye're distracting me, Sassenach and I still have something to show ye."

She heard Annalise's laughter coming from the cottage. "I presume Willie is here with you too."

"Your presumption is correct. Now stop asking questions and take a look at this." He pulled her towards the other end of the bench.

She sighed. "Alright, let's see it then."

Jamie let go of her hand and tapped a finger on the spot. "Take a look."

Claire leaned forward and read the inscription.

 Jamie/Claire - the promise of greater things to come.

 She frowned as confusion settled upon her. "What's this?" She traced the grooved marks of the words with a fingertip. "This has the same indentation as the other engraving. And it looks old. This couldn't have been recent."

"Yer da wrote it."

She straightened up. "Wot? But what does it mean?"

Jamie blew out a breath. "He wrote the names he would name his firstborn. He chose my name for a boy, and I got to pick yers."

Her eyes widened. "You picked my name?"

"Apparently," he grinned.

A laugh bubbled out of her. "God, so much to take in. Whatever next?"

"This." Jamie picked up a paper bag she hadn't noticed before by the bench and pulled out a padded envelope. "It's from yer workplace." He read the sender. "Dreamcatcher."

She sighed, still reeling from what Jamie just told her. "It's probably from John," she murmured more to herself as she took the envelope. She tore it open and was surprised when she pulled out its content and realised it was a children's book. "It's from Louise." When Jamie gave her a bland look, she sat down on the bench and stared at it. "She's a good friend of Annalise and a children's book author as well as an illustrator. I convince her to publish with Dreamcatcher when she showed me her work. I admitted to her a while back I wanted to be a writer. Every time our paths would cross, she'd asked me if I'd done anything about it. And every time I told her I was still working as an editor, she would give me a disappointed look." She smiled and shook her head. "I wonder why she sent this to me." Admiring the colourful print, she ran her hand over the cover. "What a talented woman."

"So ...what is the book about?"

Claire examined the book. "It's about The Unicorn and the Lioness," she answered, reading the title and leafing through the pages. As she suspected, each page was beautifully and colourfully illustrated. "Well, shall we see what we have here?" She opened it to the beginning and began to read aloud.

 There once was a unicorn

That fell for a lioness. 

She surprised him with her charm,

And her comeliness.

 She grinned as she flipped the page. "Unusual pairing," she observed, making a face at Jamie. "...but hey ...the unusual ones tend to be the best." 

She licked her lips and continued reading.

 The two, you see, 

Were from different worlds 

So it made him wonder, 

How'd it all unfurled?

 "Ah ... makes me wonder too," she added softly. "This is getting interesting."

Jamie laughed, angling his body so he could also see the pictures.

 In spite of their differences, 

It was love at first sight. 

Their feelings grew quickly, 

Their hearts took to flight.

 She smiled and turned to the next page.

 The unicorn, his life, 

Once troubled and scattered 

Now calmed and on the mend

In all ways, that matter.

 She glanced up at him and grinned. "Well, love heals, so they say," she remarked with a wink. "And love is all there is."

"Love is all there is," Jamie echoed with amusement.

She took a deep breath and resumed where she left off.

 There were simply no words 

For how lucky he'd become. 

Without her by his side 

Life would be hopelessly glum.

 She paused for a beat as a peculiar inkling tugged in her guts. Swallowing the odd knot in her throat, she forced herself to say something. Anything! "We wouldn't want the unicorn feeling glum now, would we?" she managed, suddenly unable to draw breath. 

"No," he replied. "A glum unicorn would be a tragedy."

Oh, lordy, lordy! Is this what I think what's happening? She took a fortifying breath and lifted the next page with a shaky hand. 

 It's hard to believe 

Just how happy they were. 

He could not conceive 

Even one day without her.

 "Happy is good," she squeaked, working her throat to be heard. 

"Happiness is always a good choice ...grab it while ye can," he returned quietly.

Unable to get a grip of her runaway thoughts, a dull pounding began in her chest, gradually accelerating and drowning out the noise in their surrounding, portraying the moment with a dreamlike quality. She peered up at Jamie. Underneath his handsome exterior, she could see he was anxious, the lines around his mouth more noticeable than usual. The bruise on his eye, as much as she didn't believe it resulted from an accident, added a mixture of masculinity and vulnerability. God, I love this man! She wanted to stand up and hug him and let him know she knew where he was going with this. But now was not the time to ease his anxiety. She needed to pull herself together to see through what Jamie had probably painstakingly arranged for this moment.

"Weel, are ye gonnae finish reading it?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Batting a speck of non-existent dirt from the book, she filled her lungs, nodded and read the next lines.

 So he got on one knee

To hand her a gift 

A tiny velvet box

Holding a silver piece

 A silver piece? A record-scratching moment descended upon her like a heavy lead. What's a silver piece? Had she misinterpreted Jamie's intention? But when she glanced up from the book, there he was kneeling in front of her. Holding an expensive-looking velvet ring box, looking determined and brimming with adoration. It's not a ring, Beauchamp! It's a silver piece ...whatever the heck that is. Get a grip. She mentally shook herself. Of course, it couldn't be a ring. It's too soon for him to be asking her hand in marriage. The tiny box had to contain a key to his cottage, ....but he'd already given her one. Perhaps he bought a new house?

"Are ye gonnae to open it?" he asked, breaking her thoughts.

At a loss for words, she took the velvet box with trembling fingers. She reminded herself to calm down. She wouldn't want to embarrass them both into thinking Jamie was proposing.

"It's no' gonnae open itself, Sassenach. Or do ye want to keep holding it until ye're ready?" His lips twitched at its corner, and a spark of amusement lit his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. She took a deep breath and opened the tiny box. When she glimpsed its content, she could only manage a weak "Oh!" Nestled in the case was a shiny one-pound coin where the ring should have been. Too confused for words, she gave him a questioning look.

On his knees, Jamie edged himself forward and took her hand. Keeping his eyes on her, he kissed the inside of her wrist. "Sassenach ...ye ken how I've always talked about how fate in some strange, mysterious way brought us together?" Claire slowly nodded in response, unsure where he was going with this. "Weel, to this day, I still dinnae ken how it all works. This may sound mad. But with everything that's led to here and now, I firmly believe some force, unknown or known, has had a hand in bringing us together. And every day, I thank whoever is listening up there for bringing ye into my life." 

Her heart swelled with love. "Jamie, you don't have to do this," she said, laying a hand on his cheeks. "I know what's in your heart."

"No." He took the coin from the box and pulled something from the back of his jeans. "I want to do this." Whatever he reached out for inside his pocket, he kept it hidden in his hand. He cleared his throat and gave her a small smile. "Loving ye is the best part of my life, Sassenach. You brought light and colour in, and for that, I'll always be grateful. Ye brought me back to life when I didnae even realise I'd stopped breathing. From the moment I first laid eyes on ye, I wanted ye for keeps. I want to be yers and for ye to be mine, and I promise I will always try my utmost best to keep ye happy."

"I've always been yours. And always will be. My move to the Highlands should have made that clear enough for you."

"Aye, I had no doubt about that. But I ken that stubborn, practical side of ye will try to argue what I'm about to ask ye is too soon." When he opened his hand, she gasped. On the middle of his palm was a three-diamond stone engagement ring with two smaller ones flanking a bigger brilliant round centre. Emotions tangled in her throat as he raised the one pound coin with his other hand. "If ye, like me, believe destiny ...the universe ...yer da or whatever ye wish to call it ...conspired to bring us together, I'm gonnae dare ye to leave it up to fate with this one-pound coin I have here."

"Wot?" Now she was utterly confused.

"I'm proposing a coin toss. The rules are simple, and it only takes five flips. If it comes up heads each time ... ye'll wear my ring. We dinnae have to marry right away. We can wait a day or ten years. Either way, I want ye to know I plan on loving ye straight through eternity. If the coin comes up tails, weel ..." he trailed off, shrugging. "I guess I have no choice but to wait until ye're ready."

She looked down at Jamie's opened palms, a coin in one hand and a ring in the other. He was doing this so she wouldn't feel pressured to marry but feel secure enough in the knowledge he'd always be waiting for her no matter how long. She squeezed her eyes shut and crammed her fingers to her lips to keep a cry from escaping. She was not interested in tossing a coin to prove they're meant for each other. What they felt for one another wasn't based on fate or luck. They'd met, fallen in love, and now they're taking their relationship to the next level. It's something that happened all the time. They may not love each other the easy way, but their hearts were in the right place every single time. They're rock solid, and she didn't need a flipping coin to tell her that. 

When she opened her eyes, a sound broke free in her chest. "Bloody hell, Jamie! Just stop with all this silliness, and put the damn ring on my finger," she hiccuped, giving him her hand. 

Jamie's shoulders drained of tension as his breath released in a rush. "Did ye just agree to marry me?"

Hot tears rolled down Claire's cheeks as she let out a watery laugh and fell back on the bench, right where her father had proposed to her mother all those years ago. Though it felt right, a slight uneasiness tried to sneak in when she remembered what Annalise had told her about Jamie's doubt about having children of his own. She searched his face, and all she could see was his love and promise to make her happy. Isn't everything supposed to fix itself when two people are in love? She made a decision not to bring it up ...for now. "Yes, Jamie. I did. I want to marry you too," she breathed as she watched him take her hand to slip the ring on her finger. When she gazed at it, she could only make out the twinkle of diamonds through her tears.

"Christ, I cannae believe ye ditched the coin toss. and agreed to marry me ...just like that."

"I don't need the coin toss to know we're meant for each other," she pointed out. "And you shouldn't either."

He gave her a boyish lopsided grin, one that he was very aware always had an effect on her. Damn! He rose to his full height, tugging her along with him. "Ye have no idea how happy you made me, Sassenach," he breathed, pulling her roughly against him and grazing her earlobe with his teeth. "Now, for the love of God, give yer man his engagement kiss."

Committing this moment to her memory, she slipped her hands under his top to feel the warmth of his skin. Standing on her tiptoes, she tipped her head back and laid a soft kiss on his lips. She smiled when his chest and stomach muscles strained and swelled underneath her touch. "Is that better?" she whispered.

Jamie muttered a curse under his breath, rolling his forehead side to side against hers. "Sassenach, I said kiss. Ye cannae touch me like that when there are people that could be watching us from the house."

"Why?"

"Jesus!" Jamie's exhale came out hot against her forehead. "Why? How am I going to walk back in there in this condition? Ye look at me so innocently when ye ken well I feel a little crazy right now. It wouldnae take much to get me going. Look at what ye do to me."

They both dropped their attention to the bulge straining against his jeans. "I see," she whispered with a shrug, drawing away. "Too bad. I guess we just have to have that celebratory kiss later ...when we're alone."

Looking pained, his hand dug into her hair, pulling her back in, in his hold. "Not too fast." His lips swept over hers before his tongue dipped inside to give her his own brand of teasing. Seconds ticked by while he tantalised with a deep kiss, causing a moan to pass her throat. She felt the shudder that passed through him, the ecstasy of this second, his love, the pressure of his lust pressing between their bodies, the awe and gratitude. It was their own private celebration, drowning everything else out and ...

A throat cleared gruffly. Jamie stiffened and dragged his lips from her mouth, pink blooming on the tips of his ears. Just beyond his shoulder, she saw uncle Lamb averting his eyes and rocking on his heels. 

"Uncle Lamb?" Claire croaked. "Don't tell me you're on this as well?"

"Trust me, sweetheart, you're not the only one who's been bushwhacked."

"Bushwhacked?"

"I guess this is the part where we say, congratulations." Willie's voice cut through her surprise at seeing her uncle, causing her head to drop forward on Jamie's chest. As the reality of their surroundings slowly began to encroach, Claire somehow found the willpower to unwind her arms from Jamie's neck and turn around. Three pair of eyes were trained on them with a mixture of amusement and joy for their happiness and mild annoyance from her uncle.

"Aye, we're officially engaged," Jamie announced, his arm going around her waist to pull her back against his chest. He pressed his lap to her backside to let her know the situation in his pants. 

Claire stifled a giggle and put on her best smile, fully aware of Jamie's mild discomfort. "We are, indeed," she grinned, leaning back to kiss the underside of Jamie's jaw. "I must admit, I never saw this coming." She lifted her hand to show them the ring.

Annalise whooped and clapped her hands. "Well, this call for a celebration then," she beamed, skipping towards them. "Let me see it." 

Squeezing her hip, Jamie let her go. She smothered the urge to laugh when she supposed that probably nothing loses a man's erection faster than a sight of her uncle Lamb's tetchy demeanour. Dismissing her silly thoughts, Claire splayed her hand out for her friend. "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

"Stunning. I'm so happy for you." She looked Claire in the eye and spoke for her ears only. "Did you tell him what we talked about earlier?"

"Which one?"

"Babies. Hello?"

Claire sighed. She didn't want to lie to her friend, nor did she want to taint the occasion by bringing the subject of future babies up. There was a time and place for that and now wasn't appropriate. She hugged Annalise briefly and spoke into her ears. "Everything is going to be fine."

Annalise brows furrowed, but when she saw how happy Claire was, she immediately dropped the subject. "If you say so."

"I know so," Claire smiled, pulling away from her friend at the sight of Willie approaching. "Now, scoot and celebrate with us."

Annalise did an eye-roll and let Willie through.

"Congratulations!" Willie broke in, raising the bottle of Moët in his hand and giving Jamie a high-five with the other. He dropped a kiss on Claire's cheek and grinned. "Welcome to the family, Claire. My not so wee bràthair doesnae mess about, does he?"

"Thank you," she smiled. "And, no, he certainly doesn't."

Jamie received a back slap and a hug from his brother while Claire watched her uncle slowly approached them, shoulders strained, and hands shoved in his pocket. Something was amiss. Quentin was avoiding her eyes, and she noticed his face was devoid of emotions. She strode to his side. "Seriously, uncle?" she hissed, disbelief colouring her tone.

Quentin ignored her. "You sneaky piece of shit!" he barked at Jamie. 

"Oh, dear God, here we go again," Willie muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Again?" Claire gasped as she noticed Annalise and Willie's eyes ricocheting between Jamie and Quentin. She was about to scold her uncle when his face broke into a grin. She held her breath and stilled in anticipation.

"Congratulations, son! I couldn't think of a better man for my niece!"

"About time ye realised it, ol' man," Jamie grinned.

"Who are you calling an old man?" Quentin ground out in mock displeasure.

Annalise, Willie and Claire gaped at Quentin.

"What?" Quentin chuckled. "If I'd come right out and told Jamie right at the start, I couldn't think of a better man for my niece, he would never have fought for her the way he did."

"What kind of logic is that?" Claire fumed.

Jamie crossed his arms. "Oh, this is gonnae be gold."

"It's a men thing, sweetheart and complicated," Quentin muttered, giving Jamie a dirty look.

"I'll try and keep up. Explain."

Quentin released an impatient sigh. "Men in your generation have none to too little backbone. Jamie had to realise he was good enough and strong enough for you. And you had to make him realise it. That's the top and bottom of it."

Her uncle was right, Claire thought. A few weeks ago, Jamie wouldn't have thought himself capable of coming this far with his condition. She might have been instrumental in pulling him out of the darkness where he'd lived for so long, but all the hard work had come from Jamie.

When Quentin took her hand and pulled her into an awkward embrace, she relaxed. "I'm not going to be around forever, darling," he said gruffly before pulling away to look her in the eyes. "I wanted to make sure you were in good hands if anything happened to me." He glanced at Jamie. "I had an inkling when Claire first told me about you, and we talked for the first time on that video chat, that your relationship was serious. The second I found out Henry's connection to you, I had to delve more into your history. When you started talking about fate and all that tripe, I didn't believe in it ...but these last few days, after spending time together, you made me believe in you. I saw something in you." 

Quentin gestured toward the double-headed one-pound coin Jamie had left on the bench. "So when you tried to extract a blessing for this proposal after dragging me here under the pretence of a boys' weekend, I thought I'd have a little laugh and grant it by giving that coin Henry gave me and challenging you to leave it to fate ...without telling you it was double-headed. As you know, I was still a bit miff with you for not letting me into this big secret thing. But you surprised me when you agreed to take the challenge and told me you'd leave it to Claire to toss it. You really believe in all that destiny nonsense, don't you?" He shook his head in disbelief. 

Jamie just shrugged and smiled.

"Uncle Lamb! How could you?" Claire huffed indignantly, crossing her arms across her chest. "For your information, we didn't toss the coin even if Jamie suggested it."

Quentin's eyes widened. "You didn't?"

"I don't need a damn coin to make my decisions, for God's sake."

Jamie slipped his arm across her shoulder and squeezed her. "It doesnae matter, Sassenach. All that matters is he gave us his blessings and that we love each other."

"I know," Claire whispered before glaring at her uncle. "As for you, no more tricks up your sleeves, are we clear?"

"Jamie caught me off guard with this marriage thing. Can you blame me for what I did?"

"Uncle Lamb! That's not the issue here." She pegged him down with a look. "You've been giving Jamie a hard time from day one. No more tricks and no more taunting Jamie. I love you both, and I want you to get along. Promise me."

Quentin raised his hands in the air before placing them on his chest. "Promise. Jamie's read me the riot act earlier today, and you're speaking to the converted. And I meant what I said when I told him I couldn't think of a better man for you. Honestly, I'm happy for both of you." He opened his arms to her. "Forgive me, sweetheart?"

With a roll of her eye, she stepped away from Jamie's hold and threw herself in her uncle's arms. "You know I'll always forgive you," she mumbled against his neck, hugging him close. "Despite you being such a grouch, I want you to know I am happy that you're here."

"Me too, sweetheart, me too," he said gruffly. "Now, shall we start the celebration? I'm parched and starving." 

"About time," Annalise chirped with a little dance and fist pump.

Laughing, Willie popped the cork on a bottle of Moët while Jamie handed out the crystal flutes. 

Claire watched as their drinks were being poured and smiled. She said a silent prayer for her parents and thanked them. There were so many things to be grateful for. Life was good, and her heart was full. She was moving to the Highlands, start her career as a writer and marry the man she loved. This was what she wanted, and she was prepared for this whatever may come their way. Her only wish was, her parents could be here today, so her father could see what a fine lad Jamie had grown up to be.

Her attention was brought back to the present when Annalise nudged her with her foot. With champagne finally in everyone's hand, they all raised their glasses to their new beginning.

"To Jamie and Claire," Willie began.

"To your happiness," Annalise added.

"To family and friends," Jamie beamed.

"To what's next," Claire breathed.

"To my next meal," Quentin snorted. "Now drink up, and let's go. I'm bloody starving."

..........

"Did you really mean what you said earlier?" Jamie asked Quentin once they were alone, and the rest of the party walked ahead of them on their way back to the cottage from the pub. "About believing in me and being happy for us?"

Quentin glanced at him. "I always say what I mean, son. Best get used to it," he grumbled.

"Right ..." They walked in silence, watching Claire, Annalise and Willie as they began singing the chorus of Living on a Prayer for the umpteenth time. "About that double-headed one pound coin ..." Jamie began.

"That was a clever touch, huh?" Quentin grinned. "Would have come handy for you if Claire had decided to use it. You still got it?"

"Aye." Jamie handed him the coin. "By the way, I have a confession to make."

"What's that?" Quentin asked, taking the coin and shoving it in his pocket.

"The reason why I readily agreed to that coin toss you suggested earlier is that ...Harry gave me one too." Jamie dug his own coin from his pocket and showed it to Quentin. "I knew the coin ye were giving me was double-headed."

Quentin stopped to look at him. "You suggested the coin toss to Claire even though you knew it was double-headed?"

"Aye."

"If Claire had agreed, would you have used the double-headed or the normal coin?"

"The double-headed, of course," Jamie admitted.

"What about all your bloody talk of fate and destiny and all that?"

Jamie shrugged. "Oh, I still believe in fate, but I couldnae take the chance. I love yer niece too much. I think ye would be inclined to agree that the universe has an odd sense of humour, and I needed to cover my arse just in case it decided to turn against me." 

Quentin scowled. "Is it too late to change my mind about you?" 

"Aye." 

They watched as Annalise and Willie, doubled with laughter, latched on to Claire's arms after she stumbled onto the curb.

"Well, then," Quentin grunted. "What the hell are you doing here still babbling to me? Go join the fun."

Jamie shook his head. "Oh no, ye don't, spoilsport. Ye're here to have some fun too. Ye're joining in."

"I'm too old for all that. Now go and leave me in peace."

Jamie narrowed his gaze at him. "Is that really what ye want? To be left in peace?"

Quentin blew out an exasperated breath, but Jamie caught the sheen in his eyes and the smile he was battling. "No. I want you to get used to me showing up," he growled.

Jamie pretended to sound annoyed so as not to embarrass the older man. "Fine, as long as it doesn't involve ye decking me."

"Deal."

..........

Jamie looked up from the mock children's book, smiling when he heard Claire doing her nightly routine in the bathroom. The book disguising his marriage proposal had been Annalise idea. As soon as she'd heard of his intention from Willie, she'd made the suggestion, desperately wanting to play a part in surprising Claire. She even had him adding a few of his own words to the poem. How Annalise's friend managed to illustrate and have the book printed on such short notice, he had no idea. But he must admit, The Unicorn and the Lioness book had been a nice touch.

Claire walked into the bedroom, looking fresh in his t-shirt, her face still flushed from the champagne earlier. He watched her shiver a little, rubbing her arms to generate heat. The sight of her bare legs kicked his heart rate up a notch. He smiled and drew the bedcover back in an invitation to get in.

As she snuggled under the crook of his arm, she smiled when she saw the book on his lap. "I never got to read the ending," she said with a yawn, her arm sliding across his waist.

He kissed the crown of her head and pulled her in closer. "Shall I read it for ye?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll start from where you left off."

"Alright."

Jamie got comfortable and cleared his throat. "Here goes ..."

 So he got on one knee

To hand her a gift 

A tiny velvet box

Holding a silver piece

 Claire giggled. "You got me right there."

"I know," Jamie chuckled, turning the page. "Now wheesht and let me finish."

 Confused and bewildered

That it's not a ring

It became apparent

She wanted the real thing

  So still on his one knee 

He uttered the plea: 

"My dearest lioness, 

Will you marry me?"

  He felt his heart beating 

Right out of his chest. 

He could do nothing but wait 

And hope she'd say YES.

 When he ended and a few moments of silence ensued, Claire twisted from her position and looked up at him. "That's it?"

"Aye," Jamie replied, handing her the book. "Louise said you're a writer, so she left a blank page for you to write the ending."

"Is that so?" she said, laughing, reaching for her specs. "Well, let's see what I can do."

Jamie grabbed a pen from the nightstand and handed it to her.

After adjusting the pillow, she sat up and began scribbling, reading the words out loud as she wrote.

 When she finally answered 

He could not stop grinning 

Because he knew, in his heart, 

This was just The Beginning!

 Claire closed the book and took off her specs. "How was that?" she asked, sliding back under the covers.

"It was good, but I'm left hanging. I'm dying to know what happened after?" 

"Hmmm ..." She climbed on top of him and nipped his lips with her teeth. "They celebrated with their loved ones, ate a lot of food and drank too much champagne." She drew circles on his chest. "Although I have a sneaking suspicion, their night is not over yet." 

Jamie flipped her on her back, making her yelp. He scanned her face for a few heartbeats. "Ye're absolutely right. He's gonnae tell her how happy she's made him," he whispered, his words thick with emotions. "And show her in so many ways how much he loves her." 

She blinked away the tears blearing her vision and smiled up. "Well, he's got all night to prove he's not just a bunch of talk."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "A bunch of talk, huh? He's a big man, Sassenach, and he makes love twice as long."

She slipped her hand past the waistband of his boxer brief and gripped him hard, making him catch his breath. "We'll see about that," she challenged. 

He rewarded her by grabbing her hand and slowly pressing his hips into her. "You're on, Sassenach, you're on," he groaned into her mouth before silencing her with his kisses.

Dear Readers,

Firstly, apologies for the delay in the final chapter of this series. As some of you already know, if you read my Tumblr posts, I've had a bad reaction to my vaccination. Though I feel a little better, I don't feel quite right yet hence the delay of this update. I'm easily tired and have been writing sporadically, depending on my energy level. So, after this chapter, I will take a long rest before starting the next series.

Secondly, I'd like to thank everyone for the kudos and comments on AO3 and on my Tumblr and those who left best wishes in my inbox. I appreciate them all from the bottom of my heart. Though I haven't replied individually, please know I enjoy reading them and look forward to what you have to say.

Thirdly, as you may have gathered, this is the final chapter of this series. There will be a third series. When? I have no time frame yet as I will need time to recuperate. If you wish to be updated, you can always subscribe to the WONDERWALL series by clicking here. Or follow me on my Tumblr site here. 

Lastly, I hope you've enjoyed this last chapter. It's the longest chapter I've ever written, with 11560 words. If this update is all over the place, I blame it on my bad days. I personally think it's alright, but I can never be sure. I believe my reaction to the vaccination has dulled me a bit. So, thank you all from the bottom of my heart: for your continued interest, readership, kudos and comments. I look forward to reading your remarks and constructive criticism on this latest update. Kudos to you all, my friends, and be safe. Keep the positive vibe rolling. Much love. X

It had all began at the start of the week when Jamie had been at work. Tom had stopped by the cottage to hand her a signed contract agreeing to his book's publication. By the time she'd told John the good news, he'd been in his element detailing his main point plan for getting the word out and announcing the book deal to Tom's adoring followers. She'd thought her boss would demand to get her and Tom on the next plane to London, but instead, John had told her he'd arranged a team to fly to Inverness for a formal meeting with their new author. As if that wasn't enough, two days later, Mary had produced enough drafts for Claire to work on and promised there would be more on the way. Her uncle, sensing work was piling, would occasionally stop by either to whip up something to eat or bring food while she'd been ensconced in her studio shed. Not that it was unusual for her uncle to perform domesticated pursuits; however, it's still surprising that he was going the extra mile to help around the house when he had the Highlands at disposal for his adventures being an outdoor person that he was.

It's becoming clear this week was proving to be a period of many turning points. She had no idea what the future had in store for her and Jamie, but she knew something had shifted in their relationship, and it was definitely for the better. Though she's still the same girl who's still trying to find her place in the world and fit in, she knew she'd changed, too. A few months ago, she would have probably backed down from any forms of conflicts, citing life as complicated enough without adding more complications. But she'd learned how to respond, choose fights that are worth fighting for and cast aside that wasn't deserving of her peace of mind. She'd also learned that once in a while, it's good for her sanity to give propriety and rules the middle finger when a situation called for it. 

It's hard to believe she's planning her life in the Highlands, the place where her parents had met and found love in each other. In her quest to get to know them more, she'd spent her holidays here to be closer to their memories and live that adventure they'd so craved. Now, she was involved with a man tormented with demons. If her parents were still alive today, she wondered how they would receive Jamie. Would they have been like Jenny or her uncle, suspicious and sceptical of their relationship? Or would they have been happy with her choice just like Willie, Brian, and Ellen have been with Jamie's?

Deep in her heart, she knew that her parents would have taken one look at them and understood that Jamie was special and meant to be her life adventure. From what Claire had surmised from uncle Lamb's stories, her parents have been that kind of people, magnanimous of spirit and always saw the best in others. Jamie was like that too. He'd taken a gamble with her despite their differences and the geographical challenges ahead. Though it seemed she was helping him with his condition, unbeknownst to Jamie, he too was helping her heal the part of her that became an orphan. In some invisible way, he was repairing something in the fabric of her world that had been torn down the middle when her parents passed away. She absorbed that thought and was reminded of what Uncle Lamb once told her, that her father always had a peculiar sense of humour. With that in mind, she'd like to think that just maybe her father had sent Jamie her way on purpose. His way of telling her to let go of the past, not over-think, embrace the Highlands as much as he had and just love.

Lying next to Jamie in bed, she felt totally at peace. They might have had a crisis of faith, but she was confident they'll find their way through whatever path was laid before them. Their love wasn't and probably never going to be easy, given their journey had been emotional, tangled with roadblocks, denials and self-preservation. Still, she wanted to find her way with him. She'd just discovered this strength she didn't realise she had, and Jamie continued to surprise her with his single-mindedness purpose to be cured. Someone once said there's no fulfilment without a bit of struggle. Just like in the stories she hoped to publish one day, the heroes had to break down first and bleed before earning their happy ending. Well, if that's the rule, she couldn't envision facing life's trials and tests with any other person to stand beside her other than Jamie.

Her smile was still in place when her thoughts were suspended by a rush of heat as Jamie's hand coasted over her hip to disappear between her thighs. A sudden thrill shot through her, making her breath catch in her lungs. He shifted the leg holding her thighs down and deftly opened her to his touch, stroking the sensitive flesh in between. She felt his shaft stir against her bottom as she scooted closer to him, eliciting a guttural sound to escape his lips.

"I can practically hear the cogs turning in yer head, Sassenach," he muttered thickly, his breathing turning shallow at the back of her neck. He nipped her earlobe between his teeth and tugged. "What's going on in that mind of yers?"

"Oh, this and that and how you've been sleeping soundly ...these last few nights." She gasped out loud when he rubbed her nub with a calloused thumb. She tilted her head back to look at his face, and her lips were met by a long-drawn, possessive kiss. By the time their mouths parted, she was panting for air and squirming against him mindlessly. 

"Christ, ye're ready for me. Why did ye no' wake me up?" He thrust his finger deep inside her, fondling the spot he knew drove her wild and frantic. "Next time ye want me, wake me up."

"I-I couldn't. You were sleeping so peacefully." 

He paused his ministrations. "That's no' the answer I was hoping to hear."

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! "Y-yes, next time, I'll wake you up!"

"That's my lass." He sank another finger into her entrance. But as she tried to clench around him, his fingers slid out, using her wetness to coat her nub and gently rub her aching flesh. She wanted to scream at him for teasing her, but he only softly chuckled against her neck. At that moment, she needed to come more than she needed air. She hoarsely whispered his name in a plea for release. "Ach, no' yet, Sassenach ... ye listen better when I'm touching ye." She yelped when he suddenly yanked the covers away and flipped her on her stomach, the crisp morning air caressing her heated skin. "Let me see first that beautiful arse of yers." He shoved a pillow beneath her hips, putting her in a highly arousing position, her face mushed against the mattress and her bottom in the air. "Such a beautiful bum."

"Jamie ..." 

He kneaded the curves of her buttocks as he let out a frustrated male groan. "Let us talk first. This is the only time I'm pretty sure ye're no' gonnae argue with me with what I'm about to say. Ye listening?"

"Yes, yes ...get on with it, damn it!"

He laughed out loud just before his lips travelled along the path of her spine, kissing and nibbling her flesh. One hand slid around her belly and down the apex of her thighs, slipping blunt fingers into her folds as his mouth moved to her neck. He lingered there, biting hard and then soothing the sting with a lick of his tongue. Anticipation pulsated within her body, and goosebumps erupted on her skin as the weight of his erection slid against her upturned bottom, and Jamie positioned himself behind her. When he hefted her higher with his forearm, she let out a squeak. "Ye'll no' be working this weekend."

"Jamie," she whimpered. "B-but I can't."

"Oh yes, ye can." Skilled fingers stroke her sensitive nub, and with one thrust of his hips, he completely filled her, taking her by surprise. She nearly screamed, pressing her mouth against the mattress, suddenly mindful of nosey neighbours. She remembered what Jamie had told her about Mrs Fitz and muffled her moans on the covers of the bed.

"Oh, God, this is not fair," she breathed on an uneven exhale.

"I told ye last night, I have a wee surprise for ye. Ye've worked long enough this week. Ye're taking a wee break this weekend." When she didn't respond, he stilled his hips and took out his fingers from inside her. "You need a break, Sassenach. Now, for the love of God, just say yes, Jamie."

When Jamie drew out his hardness and plunged deeply back into her, heart-stopping sensations coursed through her whole body. Something about how he positioned her, the fluid, smooth drives of his movement made her mad with need. She wanted to urge him to go faster, but she clamped her mouth shut. He was deliberately torturing her and forcing her to agree with him. So she decided she was going to get her own back. Contracting her inner walls, she clenched around him. From experience, she knew the more he had to work to push into her, the wilder he would become. Just when she thought she finally got the upper hand, he paused and dropped his weight, stopping just short of squashing her. "No, no, no! Please don't stop!" she wailed.

"Oh, aye." He pushed his lower body tight to her bottom, his erection throbbing inside her. When she tried to wriggle her bum to urge him to start moving again, he firmly gripped her hips in place. "Ah, I ken what ye're up to," he whispered hotly in her ears. "I'm no' taking no for an answer. Ye owe this break to yourself."

"You don't play fair."

"Neither do ye."

Thinking she could compromise later after spending the whole morning with him, she finally conceded. "Fine. Just keep moving, for God's sake!" she hissed.

He let out a pained laugh and pressed his lips on the crook of her neck. "Good lass, ye ken it makes sense." Then cursing under his breath, he moved all the way out in one smooth slide before deliciously gliding deep back. "Christ, I can feel ye want to come, but ye're going to stay with me a little longer. Ye fell asleep on me last night, leaving me with a painful cockstand." 

"Jesus, Jamie."

"Aye," he rasped hoarsely into her hair. "I said the same thing when ye wriggled that pert arse against me and fell asleep immediately."

The way his thickness was invading her from an angle almost sent her hurtling over the edge. And it gave her a new appreciation for math. The thought almost made her laughed out loud if it wasn't for the pulsing pleasure between her legs.

"Christ ...look at ye," Jamie gritted, his voice sounding raw and almost severe. "So bloody perfect." 

He nudged her legs wider and changed his movements to short, strong strokes, increasing his pace with primitive energy that left her gasping for breath. With the sound of their slapping bodies, the earthy scent of arousal, the sweaty slide of skin, her belly began to tighten and coil.

"I just want to make ye happy, Sassenach," he groaned, bearing down his upper body more, his hips relentlessly pounding into hers. "So just say yes to my wee surprise, aye?" 

"Yes, yes, yes." Their voices sounded so far away, and her initial hesitation about taking a break from work almost forgotten. Not entirely, though. She tried to grasp that mental note about emails to be sent, but the hand gripping her hips moved, and fingers slid to rub her nub, stroking and pushing her further towards her peak. She gave in and widened her thighs to let him fill her more. But it left her no time to prepare for the release that shattered her apart, her love for him and the physical pleasure fusing to intensify the sensations blasting through her. It threatened to overwhelm her, but Jamie's presence anchored her as he followed her over, groaning her name, gripping her hips with a fierceness as he claimed her for his. 

Moments later, he pulled her boneless body in his arms and tucked her into his chest, tugging the covers over them and curving his front to her back. He held her tightly as the morning light streamed through the windows. 

Battling to keep her eyes open, thoughts of work slithered in, but it kept flittering away with her consciousness before she could dwell on it. Maybe just for a minute, she thought. But Jamie smelled so good, and his tender strokes enticed a hazy sleep to claim her muscles, dragging her down into the dark. Just one minute. 

As she eased into sleep, his whisper drifted toward her unconscious. "It's still early, Sassenach. Sleep a wee bit more. Your wee surprise will come soon enough."

..........

Claire woke for the second time that morning with an unladylike shriek when the mattress dipped and moved. Muddled, she jackknifed into a sitting position, eyes scanning wildly around the curtain-dimmed room for a trespasser. Claire knew someone was there, her gut instinct telling her it wasn't Jamie. Summoning her eyes to refocus, she collapsed with relief when she realised who it was sat at the foot of the bed.

"Surprise!" Annalise squealed, clapping her hands.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" She swiped her bedraggled hair out of her face. "You scared me bloody witless."

"Bloody hell, you're jumpy." Annalise shifted a hip on the bed. "Jamie's bad dreams rubbing off on you now, are they?"

"That's not something to joke about," she glowered at her friend, pulling the covers up to her chin.

Annalise' smile waned a bit. "Hey, what's up? I'm not making fun of Jamie's nightmares, and you know that." Her shoulders slumped. "In case you don't know, bad dreams can happen to anyone. In fact, I had a bad dream a few days ago. I was being chased by a pirate."

Suddenly feeling bad for snapping at her friend, she mentally dispersed the sleep fog in her brain and gave Annalise an apologetic smile. So this was her surprise, she thought. Not that Claire wasn't happy to see her friend, but she'd expected Jamie's surprise to be a romantic weekend with him. She let out a sigh. "Chased by a pirate, huh? Let me guess ...sunken chest and no booty?"

Annalise perked up at Claire's feeble attempt to sound less grumpy. "Har de har har! I didn't realise you could be funny before coffee. A total package for a marauding pirate if I may say so."

"Tell that to Captain Beard," she mumbled, getting out of bed. 

"Aye, matey!" Annalise mischievously winked. "That's if he happens to be in Isle of Harris this weekend. Which is where, by the way, we're going, as in, now! So get packing!"

Claire stilled and shook her head. "Wot?" She began to shake her head, tugging the covers around her as she made her way to the dresser. "Oh no, no, no! I'm not leaving this place for any man or woman, including you, blondie! I've got a pile of work to do. You know I have deadlines."

"Oh no, you don't. You stop right there, missy! Have you forgotten you agreed with Jamie to take a weekend break?" 

Claire's eyes widened. "Oh, did he also tell you how he got me to agree?"

"No. But you can tell me later on the plane."

"Plane?" Claire dropped her face in her hands. "Oh, God, I can't believe I agreed to this. Jamie never told me anything."

Annalise stood up from where she was sitting and crossed her arms across her chest. "Hmmm, you don't look too happy to be spending time with me."

She puffed out a breath. "It's not that ..."

"We haven't had girly time in ages, Claire. Jamie thought it would do you a world of good to have a bit of fun."

"So now what? You and Jamie plotting and ganging up on me behind my back, is that it?" Claire accused. "What about Willie? Surely, you miss him more than me. When was the last time you saw him?"

Annalise grinned. "Don't worry about Willie. We have been doing a lot of catching up all night last night, and you want to know what he did?"

Claire's face crumpled in disgust as she held up a hand. "Oh, gross! Too much information. I don't want to hear about your sex life."

Annalise laughed out loud. "Fine, I won't discuss our sex life if you start packing now. Besides, you wouldn't want to waste the tickets Jamie worked so hard for, now, do you?"

Oh dear Lord, save me from well-meaning friends! She didn't really want to leave, but if Jamie had spent money organising this trip, she wasn't about to let it go to waste. But ... "How about uncle Lamb? He came to see me, and I can't just leave him."

"He knows all about the trip, and I've been told he's got a few excursions planned around the Highlands." 

"Oh, well ...if that's the case, I need to call Mary and John and let them know what I'm up to this weekend."

Annalise grinned. "Jamie's sorted it already."

"Wot?" she exclaimed with disbelief, her hands landing onto her hips. "Jamie's been planning this with you all along, hasn't he?" She shook her head. "I-I can't believe it!"

"You better believe it."

Claire blew out a breath of exasperation. "Fine! Grab my suitcase. It's in the airing cupboard."

"Yay!" Annalise whirled on her feet and pumped her fist in the air. Claire couldn't help but smile as enthusiasm began to wiggle its way through her system. Maybe Jamie was right. She owed it to herself to have a break, and probably a change of scenery was what she needed. After Mary had delivered the goods, Claire had worked herself to the bone all week and sometimes into the wee hours of the morning. She was already in her second round of edits on the extensive manuscripts Mary had submitted and must admit they were indeed making progress. As for Tom, her job with him was done, and the team organised by John should be arriving next week. It was definitely time for a bit of fun. 

On second thoughts, though it was generous of Jamie to arrange the trip, it would have been nice if he could come along too. But the idea of Jamie's condition worsening with something as simple as weekend trips away brought a feeling of melancholy to descend upon her. She had no doubt Jamie would be cured, and they'd be able to travel together one day, so she forced herself to shake off the momentary bout of wistfulness when Annalise came bounding back with her small suitcase.

"So ...you talked to Jamie. Where is he, by the way?" she asked, grabbing clothes from the dresser and throwing them in the bed. "He left early this morning."

"Oh! Jamie said he needed to be somewhere important, and he'll see you when we return. Willie will be driving us to the airport." When Claire frowned, Annalise came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, we'll only be away for two days, and you'll see him again Sunday night."

It was apparent to Claire she'd been at a disadvantage waking up to the news of the weekend trip because if Jamie had suggested it a few days ago, she would have definitely put her foot down and refused. Unfortunately, Annalise and Jamie knew her too well; hence they'd planned this trip in secrecy.

Claire absorbed that for a few heartbeats and felt a tad of guilt. It had been a while she'd spent time with Annalise, and once her job was done in London, she'd be living with Jamie. Plus, who knew when she'd have another chance to hang out with her best friend ...just the two of them and in the Isle of Harris at that. Besides, they always had a great time together. There was no sense in spoiling their spontaneous weekend with her stubbornness. She might as well make the most of it.

Claire turned to face her friend and smiled. "Do I have time to shower?"

"Plenty of time," Annalise beamed. "While you get ready, I'll make some coffee. I know what you're like without your cuppa first thing." And with that, she danced out of the room, whistling, leaving Claire to shake her head in amusement.

Later that morning, as they drove past the motorway exit for the airport, Claire shifted restlessly in the backseat of Willie's car, watching the familiar structure pass by in a blur outside her window. She frowned. Willie must have forgotten to take the turn. Uh oh! But before she could say anything, Willie veered to a different dual-carriageway. She tried to relax back into her seat, thinking there was probably a different route to the airport she didn't know of.

Eventually, they pulled to a stop in front of a building that didn't resemble a terminal, but there was an airfield and a charter plane coming out of the hangar. When Willie stepped out of the car, a man with worn jeans, a black leather jacket and a pair of aviators waved. He looked kind of familiar, but Claire was unsure.

"Who is that?" Claire asked quietly.

Annalise followed her line of vision. "Oh, I thought you knew that guy." She frowned when Claire shook her head and squinted to get a better look. "I was told the guy flying our plane was the soon to be famous Highlands' ultimate guide to Scotland." As if on cue, the man removed his aviators and started walking towards their car, a smile plastered to his unshaven face. When he waved at them, Annalise giggled, and Claire's eyes widened in confusion. "You probably can't recognise him from afar ...it's your author, Tom Christie," Annalise announced with a satisfied smile and to her utmost shock. "He's flying us to Stornoway."

What the bloody hell? Jamie arranged this?

 Dear Readers,

Thank you all for your readership and the feedback from the previous chapter. I'm super thrilled a lot of you enjoyed it after what I put you all through with Jamie and Claire's roller-coaster journey. I hope it was worth it all in the end.

It had been a surreal day, and Jamie knew it was far from over. He'd sensed Claire wanted to talk, and who could blame her? They had a lot of things to discuss, but his depraved mind had other ideas. His alcohol-fueled bravado from earlier had long waned to be replaced with an urgency that pulsed heat below his belly. But he swiftly reminded himself to be an attentive boyfriend first and clear the air between them. 

After what he'd put himself and Claire through the last few days, he was done being a prisoner of the past and mistrusting the future. Here, at this moment with her, he was whole, and just having her beside him was healing invisible wounds all over his body. He needed her, but her needs came first even though her sweet scent and the sound of her soft sighs were piercing holes in his self-restraint. At nearly midnight, the air was icy cold, and yet, there was a fine layer of perspiration on his skin brought about by the anticipation of being finally alone with her.

When they eventually reached the cottage, Jamie had a hard time giving up her body's warmth to retrieve his keys, so he turned her to face him and locked her in an embrace. Savouring the feel of her, he wondered how the hell he'd managed to keep his distance; moreover, allow her to go to Inverness with Tom. 

"Home sweet home," Claire murmured, breaking his thoughts. She made a move to pull away, but he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to her icy fingers instead. "I think I need a drink," she said, shivering, "It's been quite an eventful night, don't you think?"

Jamie shook himself and nodded. "Aye. It's been a riot." He finally let go of her, quickly fishing for his keys in his pocket and unlocking the door, letting her pass first. They were welcomed by two happy, hyper animals who circumvented him to get to Claire. Ah, wee traitors!

He shut the door and watched with amusement as Claire immediately fell on her knees, her arm going around Rollo's neck while her free hand scratched Adso's back ear. Jamie grinned when both nudged closer and let out chesty whimpering sounds as they were treated to Claire's lovefest.

His eyes landed on her unpacked bags on the floor. She must have left the cottage as soon as she'd arrived. "How'd ye know where to find me earlier? Ye never called," he remarked, divesting his jacket and dropping it onto the chair.

She looked up at him and smiled. "I didn't. When Tom dropped me here, I realised I forgot to hand in some documents for Mary. I kind of figured you might be out with uncle Lamb. So I thought before calling you I'd walk over to Tom's to drop the papers for Mary and well, ..." she shrugged, her eyes twinkling. "I was about to phone you, and who did I find outside Tom's apartment building? My boyfriend serenading Mary Hawkins, no less."

Almost completely sober by now, his head dropped to hide his embarrassment, his pained groan barely subdued in his throat at the reminder of the recent event. "Oh, Christ!"

She stood up, walked over to him and encircled her arms around his neck, forcing him to glance at her smiling face. "I thought you were adorable." She kissed his chin. "And I think Mary was chuffed to bits hearing your love declarations. She'll never leave the Highlands now, what with Tom as her new love interest and you serenading her in front of an audience. She probably thinks she's heaven's gift to Broch Mordha and vice versa." 

Her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck made it difficult to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ye should be righteously pissed at me for thinking ye were with Tom. And even if ye were in his apartment, I shouldnae have jumped to conclusions."

She contemplated his words. "We all get our jealous moments," she said quietly. "Well, I certainly do ...at least."

"Ye? Jealous? I only have eyes for ye, Sassenach. Ye have nothing to be jealous about." Then the image of Geneva's kiss came to mind, and his throat tightened. With everything that had happened today, he'd already forgotten about it ...until now. He knew only too well how the truth had its way of coming out, and he couldn't just dismiss it as an afterthought even though it didn't mean a thing. He needed to tell her before she finds out from someone else.

"Geneva," she whispered as if reading his mind. "I heard ..."

"Ye heard what?" She's already heard about the kiss? There was no stopping the weight of dread from settling in his belly. "Whatever stories ye heard about her and me, there's a perfect explanation for it, Sassenach. I can assure ye."

She didn't seem to notice his sudden discomfort nor heard the words he'd just said, her gaze too busy following the movements of her hands as they travelled down to his shoulders and over his chest. "While you were in Lallybroch, Willie came to check up on me once in a while to see how I was fairing. I thought it was rather sweet of him to do that." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, he mentioned something about Geneva fancying you, and that didn't sit well because I know she's your therapist, and Jenny preferred her for you." Her eyes suddenly dimmed. "Oh, God! Why am I even telling you this? It's so primary school."

"Sassenach ..." He brushed his lips to her forehead. "It's not ..."

She visibly shook herself. "No, let me finish. I know it's silly, but I couldn't help feeling the way I did. It was torturous knowing you were suffering, and I could do nought about it. I feared that night when you left, I may have made things worse by pushing you to talk about the past." True to her words, her expression was troubled as she chewed her bottom lip. "You see ...I want to be the one who can make things better for you, but I also recognise there are things about your condition that are beyond my understanding no matter how much I try to help or learn about it." She took a deep breath. "Geneva's your therapist, and she knows what she's doing. Sooo ...I have to put aside my petty jealousy and let Geneva do her work. But it doesn't mean I have to like her or the whole situation. So for the sake of ..."

"No, Sassenach. Stop right there." He dropped his mouth to prevent her from saying more, punctuating his words with a kiss. Their breaths collided, his fingers gripping her shoulders hard and digging into her skin. "Ye have every right not to like the situation. Because I dinnnae like it either." He searched her face, but her eyelids were at half-mast, and her gaze seemingly focused on his lips. He tipped her chin up. "I willnae be returning to therapy. So ye dinnae have to worry about her."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wot? But why?" She stopped and looked at him suspiciously. "Wait. If this is your way of making me stop seeing Tom, sorry mate, not going to happen. This is work. And I'm not stopping you from going to therapy just because it's Geneva either."

"Woman, will ye let me finish?" He took a few cleansing breaths. "I'll wager ye a pound to a penny that ye willnae allow me to attend the therapy when ye hear what she did." 

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Why? What did she do?"

"She kissed me."

She stiffened and took a step back. "Wot?" Her expression of softness she had just moments ago made way for disbelief. 

He tried to rid the sudden tangle in his throat. "She stopped by today. She said something about wanting to talk about my progress. I told her I was busy. Then she threw herself at me and kissed me. It's nae biggie." 

"Nae biggie?!" Her eyes flashed, and her mouth open and closed. And then opened again. "Where did she kiss you? Lips or cheek?" 

Her question caught him like a surprise right hook. On any other occasion, he would have probably been amused with her display of jealousy, but the way she was looking at him now, was causing his heart to pound painfully against his ribs. "O-on the lips, but I ...ah ...immediately pushed her away. I swear to God, I did nothing to inspire it." 

She rolled her head as if preparing for a fight, and when her eyes landed on the bottle of tequila he and her uncle had been drinking earlier, she made a beeline for it. "On the lips, huh? Did you like it?" She poured herself a healthy measure in one of the used glasses without offering him one and downed it in one go.

Christ! "No!" 

"Any tongue involved?"

"Of course not!"

"You sure?" She slammed the glass down on the table, making him flinch.

What the bloody hell? The questions she was throwing at him was making him squirm on his feet, and for the first time, Jamie realised how similar Claire and Quentin were when trying to extract an answer. Both would undoubtedly make great interrogators if ever they'd decided on a career change. "What kind of question is that? The kiss happened so fast, taking me by surprise. I didnae have time to think. She might have tried to put her tongue down my throat, but I stopped her."

"And where did this happen?"

"What do ye mean? I already told ye she stopped by. I was here ...at home." 

"I mean, did it happen inside or outside the cottage?" 

Jesus! "Outside." 

"Outside," she repeated, more to herself. 

"Aye, outside. She wanted to come in, but I told her I had things to do and was expecting a visitor ...yer uncle, that is. Anyway, that aside, I didnae think it was a good idea to allow her to come inside, knowing that she's my therapist and fancied her chances with me."

"Hmmm ...so when she threw herself at you, you pushed her away, is that right?" 

"Aye." 

"Where did her hands go?" 

Confusion seeped into his already muddled head. Is this some kind of trick question to catch me of any wrongdoing? "What do ye mean?" 

"Geneva's hands. Did it go around your waist, neck or what?" 

"Oh, um ...around my neck." 

"And what about your hands?" 

Huh? "What about them?"

"Where were your hands when she kissed you?"

"They were by my side. The only time I touched her was to push her away from me. Ask yer uncle. He saw the whole thing. I didnae even know he was there." 

"And he didn't sock you?"

"Why would he?" he almost shouted. "I didnae do a thing. It was Geneva who initiated it!"

"Fine."

"Fine?" he gasped in confusion.

She didn't answer. Instead, she turned around and took off her jacket. That's it? What the hell just happened? I gave her the truth, and that's supposed to be good, right? Or am I missing something? He followed her strained movement, and he helplessly watched her grabbed her laptop bag and rummaged through it, the silence pulsing around them bordering on awkwardness. This was definitely not how he'd envisioned their reunion, he thought miserably. 

"Sassenach," he began, choosing his words carefully. "I can tell ye're upset about the kiss. Ye ken ye've no reason to be, aye?"

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "No," she agreed, relief washing over him. "I've no reason to." She pulled out sheets of paper from her bag, looked at them and haphazardly stuffed them back in again, seemingly going through the motion of keeping her hands busy. 

"Then why are ye cranky all of a sudden?"

She let go of her bag and grabbed the bottle of tequila, sloshing over the rim of the glass as she poured another shot. "I'm not." She grimaced as she threw back the liquid.

"Ye are." When she poured another drink, he frowned at her. "Go easy on that tequila, Sassenach."

Her head spun halfway round in his direction, reminding him of that wee girl in the film, The Exorcist. Her mouth dropped open, and she glared at him.

He forced himself to remain patient. Claire was visibly upset about something, and now he wasn't sure anymore if it had to do with Geneva's kiss. "Sometimes, I associate alcohol with bad judgments and choices," he began calmly. "My own, especially. But ye've helped me make a lot of good ones in the past, and ...I just want to do the same for ye. Talk to me, Sassenach. What's really bothering ye?"

She huffed and balled her fingers into tight fists. "Fine! Do you want to know the truth? I want to start a fight."

"A fight?" He reined in his frustration of not being able to understand and took a step closer to her. "Why would ye wanna do that?"

A deep scarlet soared from her neck to her cheeks as she threw her hands in the air. "The last few days were trying, alright? It wasn't only you who was having a rough time with it. God, I've been worried sick about you. I've been trying to keep it together ever since you left, wondering if I'll ever get to see you before I return to London. And then ...and then," she hiccupped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a sob. "One bloody thing led to another. First, I got into a fight with your sister because of some stupid newspaper clipping she had in her possession. Then, not long after that, in the middle of what was supposed to be an important meeting with Tom, my boss dumps the responsibility of babysitting Mary onto my lap, and I had no idea how I was going to manage that with my uncle on his way. Then I got to Inverness, hoping to get at least some work done with Mary to finish her book so I could finally leave London for good and start a new life here with you. And you know what?" 

Jamie stood immobile. He longed to soothe her, but he wasn't sure if she wanted to be touched yet, so he waited even though he was slowly dying inside to hold her in his arms.

Her inhale became stuttered, and her eyes darkened with defeat. "I was grasping at straws to keep Mary to sit still long enough to extract a measly one thousand seven hundred words worth of work when I know she could do more in a day. But that's all I got for my efforts because she was too busy galavanting in Inverness with Tom. And speaking of Tom, I still haven't managed to make him sign the contract for his book and when my boss asked me why I couldn't even give him an answer and gave him some lame excuse. The only good thing that came out of Tom is, he convinced Mary to come here. If Tom hadn't been with me, I'd still be in Inverness with Mary. And now ...now I find out Geneva tried to kiss you while I was away. God, I want to scratch her eyes out. But I can't do that, can I? Because she isn't here. So I asked you those dumb questions to find a fault and start a fight because I wanted to vent after the last few days I've had. But even that, I can't do because you've done nothing wrong." She let out a groan of exasperation. "How sad is that?"

Suddenly, it all made sense to Jamie. Claire always put others' needs before hers with no thought for herself. He had to take better care of her. It had been easy to rest all his hopes and fears on her shoulders, and because of it, she was a massive part of his motivation to want more out of his future and be a better man for them. But if they were going to be together, his condition shouldn't always be her fight, and her burdens should be lighter with him by her side and not more. This lass had given him hope, and he's not going to rest until he gave her the same. Until she, too, knew her needs were just as important as everyone else's.

The boyfriend in him wanted to wipe the look of upset in her eyes. Confront the people that pushed her to act out in a way so unlike her usual self. Demand answers to find out what else was troubling her. He sensed, however, that questioning was the last thing she needed. So doing his best to be the protector this time, he opened his arms, relieved when she quietly walked into them. She laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he held her, resting his chin on her crown.

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke haltingly. "I'm so sorry, Jamie. I didn't mean to pick a fight. It's just that ...." Her fingers tugged at the edge of his jeans, and he shut his eyes. He could hear the slight slur in her words, making him realise she'd drank tequila on an empty stomach. "The last few days have been mad, and I -I ...oh, hell, never mind. I'm just acting pathetic."

Jamie frowned against her head. "Sassenach, look at me." He drew slightly away and held the sides of her face in her hands, the unshed tears in her eyes crushing him to the core of his being. "First of all, ye have nothing to be sorry about. If anything, Tom, Mary, yer boss, my sister, including myself, owe ye an apology. And ye're no' pathetic and dinnae ever say that about yersel', ever again. Ye do far too much for others, including me, and it's about time ye did something for ye. The rest of the world can wait, and other people getting their act together is no' yer responsibility."

She blew out a breath, bright amber eyes holding his steady.

"As for Geneva, ye have nothing to worry about her. There was never anything between us. I'll talk to my sister and let her know what her friend has done. If Jenny refuses to do anything about it, I will make a formal complaint about Geneva's behaviour to the clinic's head myself. And perhaps, propose a new or my old therapist be reinstated."

"Jamie, I can't be responsible ..." 

"Ssshh, Sassenach. Ye're no' responsible for Geneva. She overstepped the boundaries, so it's only right she takes responsibility for her own actions." He pressed their foreheads together and looked her in the eyes. "I chose to be with ye as ye did with me, and I cannae have anyone disrespecting that, no' even Jenny. We're together, and we're supposed to be stronger as a unit. I need to step up my game and be there for ye as ye've been for me. For so long, I was so fixated on my own condition, I ceased seeing other people's difficulties." He pulled back and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Then I met ye, my feisty wee, Sassenach ...for the second time as a grown-up ...and ye taught me all about selflessness and courage. I want ye to know ye're important ...more important than what I want or what Mary Hawkins wants or what yer boss wants. And the things that hurt ye, they're no less painful than what I go through. Things are gonnae change from now on, and it can't be just all about me. I'm so sorry for abandoning ye and for not being there when ye needed me most."

The worst of the troubled look in her expression faded and was replaced by a wobbly smile. "There's nothing to forgive. We were both trying our best to deal with circumstances that were beyond our control."

He smoothed her hair back, picking up the locks and twining his fingers through them. "No, ye were doing all the heavy lifting. Every moment ye spent with me was a trial of fortitude ye were too stubborn not to meet. It would have been easy for ye to give up on me, but ye didnae. Ye always thought I was enough despite my shortcomings. Ye taught me second chances, and because of that, I dinnae want to believe anymore I deserve no' to have ye." He took a deep breath. "I thought my realisation came too late when I thought ye were with Tom, and I was willing to go at any lengths to win ye back and make ye see what we have is worth fighting for. After what I did out there tonight, I ken I'll be teased for the rest of my life for singing like a fool at the village square, but it's all worth it because I get another chance with ye."

"Another chance with me? I never left you, Jamie. I may have been miffed and hurt, but I've always been yours." 

He shook his head, more at the error of his ways. "Deep down, I ken that but the mere thought of Tom with ye, all reason and logic seem to fly out the window. In the future, I promise to keep those thoughts at bay. It's no' good for my sanity." He smiled at her. "Shall we kiss and make up?"

Laughing, tears spilt from her eyes. "I thought you'd never ask."

The urgency that had been building up inside him went off like a gunshot. He drew her in closer. "Christ, I love you, Sassenach and always will." His mouth descended over hers, impressing his vow with a thorough tasting of her lips, savouring the earthy, semi-sweet taste of tequila on her tongue. His thumbs traced her cheekbones and jawline, and when she swayed closer, and the softness of her breasts flattened against his chest, he let out an animalistic groan.

His heart started to pound, every muscle south of his belt tightening. It was as though he'd been in a dry spell for five years instead of five days. His mouth went dry, his palms itched with the need to touch her naked skin, and his body was on fire as the pent-up desire from the past few days burst in a torrent of heat. He was ravenous for her taste and for her hand to encircle his hardness, and he indulged in her eager response that was opposite her usual shyness during lovemaking.

Restless fingers tangled into his hair, clasping his head in place as she kissed him back and met his demand with urgency. When her hips impatiently pressed against him, her scent invading his senses, his cock grew uncomfortably heavy.

He dragged his mouth from hers, twisting her hair in his fist. "Jesus, if ye dinnae take it down a notch, I'll burst in my pants like a schoolboy."

She blinked as if coming from a long sleep, her lips wet and puffy from his kisses and cheeks bright pink. She gave him a slow smile that promised unspoken pleasures, sending his heart up to his mouth. "Not my fault," she hummed, going up on her toes to teasingly brush her mouth over his. "You made me wait this long." Maintaining eye contact, she took a step back and stripped off her clothes, revealing her matching red bra and panty. "So enough talk, Jamie. I can't wait much more. I want you now," she whispered huskily.

Her words did it. His lust-filled brain only gave him a split second to process what she'd just said before the need to be inside her dismissed everything else. That urge he'd felt to make up for lost time raced out of control. He could only see Claire with her dazed eyes, parted lips and loads of naked skin.

He seized her hips, walking her backwards and crowding her against the dining table, pushing the chairs aside to make space. Her breath rose and fell in a choppy rhythm as his mouth dipped for a desperate kiss.

Her mouth moved in perfect unison with his, wee sounds vibrating up her throat, ending where their lips frantically worked together. Lust pumping in his veins, he roughly settled her sweet bottom on the table and gingerly hooked his fingers into the lacey band of her knickers, shoving it down her legs. When she began tugging at the waistband of his jeans, he groaned into her mouth, knowing she needed him just as bad.

"I planned to make slow love to ye tonight. But now I cannae ...because I cannae wait to have ye." His hand slipped between their bodies, and he palmed her between her thighs. Ah, sweet Jesus! Sliding a finger deep into the wet heat of her entrance, he tested and teased, revelling the way her fingernails dug onto the skin of his shoulders in response, his head spinning at the feel of her moistness. "Christ, ye look so needy, ye're giving me nae choice but to take ye right here ...like a wild beast."

"Oh, shoosh, Jamie. Quit talking about it now. You want it just as bad." She began to undo his belt buckle, nipping at his neck as she yanked and shoved. When he was finally freed, he nearly fainted at the relief of no longer being restrained to his jeans. The relief was fleeting, though, when her smooth hands encircled his throbbing cock, her tight grip moving up and down, twisting at the base, preparing him when the only thing he needed was to be inside her. Ah, Christ, but it feels so good. Far too good ...

He couldn't take it anymore. He knew he wouldn't last long. "Enough!" he gritted. 

She gave him a look like he'd just taken her favourite toy. She unhooked her bra in retaliation and pushed her breasts up like an offering. His breath caught in his throat, stunned by the vision, her eyes, a translucent gold gleaming with arousal, beckoning him to take his fill.

He parted her legs and fisted his cock before rubbing its tip at her entrance. "I've missed ye so much. I might not last long, but I want this to be good for ye," he whispered hoarsely. "I may be a bit rough," He dipped his head, forcing her back to arch like a bow as he bestowed kisses on her breasts. "Are ye alright with that?" 

She nodded, feeling her shudder with anticipation and need. 

"Is that what ye want?" 

"Yes," she whispered. "Take me however you want." 

He whipped off his top and lowered his hand to her buttock, coasting his palm over the firm, rounded flesh and squeezing it tight. "Wrap yer legs around me."

Claire's legs wrapped around his middle and her arms around his neck. Her thighs glid around his waist with such exquisite perfection that he had to bite the tender flesh on the side of her neck to stop from shouting. The friction of his cock sliding between her legs where he'd touched with his fingers was too much. Almost propelling him past his breaking point. Too impatient to take the time to savour, he gripped himself and pushed deep into her entrance.

Watching her teeth bite onto her bottom lip as if to stop a scream from escaping, he groaned out loud as he pushed inch by inch, his focus whittling down to Claire and the heat enveloping his cock. Everything ceased to exist. He pulled out slightly before thrusting again, their mutual moans resounding on the walls of the cottage.

He shifted closer, needing to feel and touch all of her as possible. Keeping their lips locked, he seized her hips and started to move to the ancient dance of mating. There were no words to express the rough, grinding pace of what he did to her. It only bloomed more intense when she began matching his moves, widening her thighs and rolling her hips like she couldn't get enough.

"Oh sweet Lord, ye feel too good," he muttered against her mouth, hips pounding furiously. "How did I stay away from this?" 

She gripped the back of his neck. "I missed this too," she gasped. "Please don't stop." 

"I'm not hurting ye, am I? Tell me if I'm too rough." 

"No ...no, don't be gentle. I need you to take me hard." 

A tide surged inside him, mounting and building like a storm. Jamie roughly raised her hips to reposition her, dragging her arse to the edge of the table, her sweet moans telling him she'd like that. Unable to think past how she wanted it harder, there was no easing down now. He could only yank her leg higher and demand she keep up, ramming into her rough and fast. Her sighs and breath came out like hot rushes of air, thighs squeezing around him and starting to tremble. When her internal walls clenched around his cock, it warned him of her imminent climax, making his balls drew up so tight they ached. He dragged her flush to his body and buried his face in her neck, grunting with every deep thrust and muttering her name while his own release clamoured in his belly. 

"Jamie!" she screamed, convulsing against him. He immediately silenced her cries with a deep kiss, but she flung her head back and squirmed, tightening up where their bodies joined, pulsing and throbbing. "Oh my God."

He couldn't wait any longer. Hooking his arms under her legs, he pumped his hardness in jerky hauls, faster and faster until his visions blurred. The whimpering noises she made launched him higher, signalling his own peak, and he soared towards it, his climax made more intense from the knowledge that it was Claire who got him there. He thrust into her one final time and thrust deep, growling her name into her hair and squashing her to his chest as he'd borne the full force of what they'd done.

"Oh, Christ, Sassenach." 

Her hands ran up and down his back as she continued to take huge gulps of air. He knew he was crushing her, but he wasn't ready to let go. He wanted to remain buried inside her, holding her like this. With her heels digging into his arse and her arms around his neck. They fitted perfectly, her softness cradling his boneless heap, making him hard as steel again. Some part of his brain must have still been functioning because he jerked and reached out for her bra to cover her when his doorbell rang. Christ! Forcing his body to move with marginal success, he yanked her up and pulled up his jeans.

Claire slid off the table and grabbed her clothes. "Who could that be?"

"That better not be yer uncle or ..." Jamie trailed off, muttering curses under his breath, annoyed at the disturbance as he was just revving up for part two of their lovemaking. When he opened the door, a sense of deja vu hit him when he saw Mrs Fitz standing there with what seemed like a plate of a lemon meringue pie. What the fuck?

"Mrs Fitz!"

The older woman didn't bother to hide her curiosity this time as her eyes tried to peer past his shoulders. "Heard ye have company, lad, and I havenae seen Miss Claire the last couple of days."

He was about to say "none of her business" when Claire came up behind him, dressed back in her jeans and top. "Mrs Fitz, how are you? Is everything alright?"

Jamie stepped back and observed how Mrs Fitz's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. He figured instantly, his neighbour must have seen that kiss from Geneva earlier and that she'd probably thought the worse of him after hearing Claire's passionate screams. Right there and then, he decided, this time, he definitely needed to soundproof his home from eavesdropping neighbours.

"Ach, I saw light in yer windows," Mrs Fitz beamed, ignoring Jamie's glare. "Ye see, I've made too many pies and thought ye might like one. I remember ye enjoying this when ye stayed with yer friend over at my place this past Christmas."

"Oh, how lovely," Claire gushed, taking the plate from Mrs Fitz. "Thank you so much. Just what Jamie and I need right now ..." She blushed profusely, contemplating her words. "...after a long day."

Mrs Fitz clapped her hands. "I thought that!" 

Seeing how thrilled Claire was looking at the desert, Jamie tamped down the urge to say something sarcastic and just scowled at her.

Mrs Fitz must have read his thoughts as this time it was her turn to crimson, a probable sign of her guilt for being nosey. Suddenly at a loss for words, she rubbed her palms at her sides. "Weel, ye both enjoy it. I must get going as it's rather late. Good night, both of ye." With that, she whirled around and disappeared into the night.

He shut the door and sighed, and followed Claire to the kitchen. 

"Lovely lady," Claire remarked, sniffing the pie before placing it on the counter.

He turned her around and kissed her slowly, groaning when she opened her mouth for him without hesitation. "Ye're lovelier," he said against her lips. "But I'm not done with ye yet."

She grinned. "Pie first?"

Realising he'd never be able to compete with Mrs Fitz's homemade pie, he laughed out loud. "Absolutely ...why not?"

Dear Readers,

Well, here you go, their reunion! I hope you've enjoyed this lust-filled chapter. I must admit, though, when I was editing the sex part, I deliberately drank Bloody Mary to lose a bit of inhibition and make the scene a bit grittier. I hope it worked, but if it's too dirty for you, I say tough! 😆 Just kidding!

Anyway, thank you for commenting and showing your appreciation for my writing and your well wishes. I don't always reply back but be assured, your feedback is very much appreciated and anticipated. 

And before I forget, it's not long now before this arc finishes. There will be an arc three, and I will let you know more on my next update.

"Nope," she replied, pressing her fingers to her forehead and massaging a sudden ache as she was reminded of the reason why they were there. "How did you get a parking space so quick?"

"I have my ways." When she arched an eyebrow, he grinned at her. "I have a disabled parking permit."

Claire stopped and glared at him. "Tom!"

He ignored her disapproving expression and shrugged. "So, who are we looking for?"

She shook her head and looked around for Mary once more. It shouldn't be this difficult to spot her because she usually stood out. "An overdressed, attractive petite brunette with loads of attitude," she replied, absentmindedly. "And probably with a trolley full of luggage."

More people walked past them making their search more difficult. She was about to make another phone call to Mary when Tom whistled under his breath. "Weel, weel," he murmured, his gaze ticking past her shoulder and turning thoughtful. "I wonder if the lass walking towards us is yer Hawkins." His lips twisted into a smile. "She looks mighty pissed."

"Wot?" She spun around and drew her brows together as she saw a familiar figure approaching them. What the hell? Is that Mary? It could only be her. The woman struggling with an oversized suitcase on wheels stood out like a mini bolt of lightning in her designer four-inch heels, pristine, skinny white jeans and black fur-lined down jacket. But there was something different about the way Mary looked, and it took a few seconds before Claire realised she had done something to her hair. She nearly gasped out loud. But as soon as Mary made eye contact, Claire immediately braced herself for some telling off for being late. Mary stopped, her mouth opening and closing as if she couldn't find the words to voice her displeasure. Claire schooled her features and met her leaden glare without flinching. "Mary? I hardly recognised you."

Mary's brown eyes prettily widened, and her expression softened as some kind of realisation dawned on her. "Oh! Of course ...you couldn't have." A sound of delight puffed out of her. "I had my hair done in Paris. Now we have the same curls. If only I was as tall as you, we'll probably be mistaken as sisters." She missed Claire's intake of breath as she ran her delicate fingers through her locks. "Do you like it?"

No, I don't! What have you done to your beautiful hair? You look like a poodle! Claire swallowed hard, tilted her head to her side, and contemplated the best way to tell Mary the truth. But she didn't have the heart to say it. Instead, she opted for something closer to the truth. "Well, for starters, it looks unusual. I'm so used to seeing your beautiful straight hair. I guess it will take time getting used to," she admitted. But when a slight frown drifted across Mary's face, Claire felt bad. Taking a deep breath, she laughed nervously as she fluffed her own hair. "Look at these ...after all these years, I'm still not used to mine, and I have a bit of hate relationship with it, especially when it gets humid or when I looked at the mirror first thing in the morning. So bear with me if I'm not much into curls."

It took Mary a long time to respond. "Oh, well," she replied with a subdued smile. "You should have seen John's face when he first saw my hair. He looked shocked." She shrugged. "But in the end, he did say it was beginning to grow on him. I guess everyone's used to my limp, lifeless hair."

Ah, bless John. Claire knew his expression wouldn't have been able to hide what was on his mind, and it wouldn't have bode well for him if Mary had been able to read his face. Mary was their star author whose new book could likely save his publishing company from potential financial ruin, and anyone pointing out her disastrous new hairstyle would probably only result in tantrums and more delays in publication. She sighed. "It wasn't limp, Mary. You had beautiful, straight hair. You have no idea what I would give to have manageable straight hair like what you had." And that was the truth.

Mary perked up a bit and rolled her eyes. "Oh, God, don't make me like you even more."

They shared a slow smile, and Claire was about to make a different compliment that didn't include Mary's hair when Tom cleared his throat and stepped forward, giving them a charming smile. "Ladies, sorry to interrupt, but shall we get cracking? My car is not parked in the most ideal of places."

"Oh, of course, I'm so sorry ..." Claire had almost forgotten about Tom, too fascinated by Mary's new hairstyle. She gave him an apologetic look and turned to Mary. "Oh, by the way, may I introduce you to ..." she trailed off and stopped.

Mary's expression looked like the heavens had just opened up and bestowed them an angel. Her lips moved, but no sound came, but when she did finally found her voice, it sounded raspy. "Is this your Jamie that John was talking about?"

Claire pried Mary's hand from her suitcase. "No, this is Tom. He's offered to drive me here to pick you up."

Tom grinned and offered his hand in greeting. "A pleasure to finally meet ye, Mary. I've read a couple of yer books, and I must say, not only are ye a talented writer but a beautiful one too."

Claire mentally groaned but kept the frustration from her face at bay. Tom must have noticed Mary's reaction and had taken his flirting a notch higher. When Mary continued to stare, Claire gently nudged her with her elbow. "Mary. Shake Tom's hand, and let's go."

Mary shook her way out of her trance and smiled. "Oh, I think this is going to be a very, very interesting visit," she gushed, finally back to her being her old self again. But instead of shaking Tom's hand, she hooked her arm into his, leaving Claire with the suitcase. "So Tom ...can you recommend a perfect place to eat? I'm quite famished and can't work on an empty stomach."

Tom obliged and patted Mary's hand. "Dinnae fash, I ken just the place."

With that, Mary looked over her shoulder and winked. All Claire could do was smile back and hope they would be able to get some work done. Because if not, and there's any more cause to delay Hawkin's books, come hell or high water, she's quitting Dreamweaver.

...........

Two Days Later

Stepping out of the shower, Jamie immediately zeroed in on his phone just in case he'd missed a call from Claire. They'd briefly talked last night, and she'd reminded him of uncle Lamb's arrival, which should be between now and the evening. If all goes to plan with Mary Hawkins, Claire should be coming back too. Hopefully, tonight, he thought with a sigh. It was already late Saturday afternoon, and his work was done for the weekend. Plenty of time left to get his shit together. 

Since Claire had left for Inverness, he hadn't had time to think. His brother had kept him busy with tasks and paperwork, and, on top of it all, he'd been distracted trying to comfort a distressed sister. Jenny had told him what had transpired between her and Claire. And how she'd been out of her mind, thinking she'd ruined their relationship. He'd consoled her, and in turn, she'd apologised profusely for her meddling. Her sincerity had touched him, but moreover, he couldn't help feeling amused at the thought of Jenny finally meeting her match. Though Claire was a gentle and thoughtful soul, he knew she was not the type to be bossed around. And in as much as he loved his sister, he was glad Claire put Jenny in her place and hoped after everything had been said and done, they can all move on from that incident and forgive.

Despite barely having time to be alone with his sometimes chaotic thoughts, he'd still managed to feel anxious about Christie. Jamie learned he hadn't returned to Broch Mordha, which led him to ponder if Christie was spending time with Claire. It was a lapse of insecurity, and that notion had been rubbished straight away since he knew how important Claire's work was to her. So there should be no pressure on his chest or icy tingling along his spine. 

There shouldn't be, but somehow there was.

Jamie was just shrugging into a fresh sweatshirt when his doorbell rang. He glanced at the wall clock and wondered who it was. Claire hadn't given a specific time for Quentin's arrival, and if it had been her at the door, she should've let herself in with the spare key he'd given her.

"Coming!" he shouted as the doorbell rang once more. He took a deep breath expecting uncle Lamb to be standing out there. Bracing himself. he flung the door open and was surprised to see who it was. "Ge- ... I mean Dr Dunsany!"

"Hi, Jamie!" Geneva greeted. "You may call me Geneva, you know ...since we're not in my office. May I come in?"

Jamie narrowed his gaze and looked past her shoulder. He could see Mrs Fitz from across the street pretending to fuss over some leaves in her garden when really he could tell she's prying into his business. There were talks already surrounding Claire being seen with Tom, and it wouldn't do him good if words of Geneva coming to his cottage got around, no matter how innocent the visit was. He gave Geneva an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I'm kinda busy," he withdrew, glancing casually at his watch. "I ... there's... I'm expecting a visitor. "

"Oh! But this won't take long." She stood there with laid back confidence that lured most men to look their fill. He neutrally eyed the slim-fitting turtle neck that hugged her breast and tight jeans that hung low, her scarlet painted lips pursed in a pretty pout. "I wanted to talk about the session we had the other day," she added quickly.

Jamie crossed his arms across his chest. "Couldn't this wait until our next appointment?"

She took a cautious step closer, her expensive scent drifting in the air. "I'd rather talk about it now. This is just not about your therapy." Her blue eyes seductively landed on his lips. "I want to discuss something personal too."

"Sorry, personal won't do, I'm afraid. Ye're my therapist."

"Jamie, how long have we known each other?"

"Long enough ..."

She smiled, her hand brushing something away from his shoulder. "What's wrong? Surely your girlfriend won't mind your therapist coming over to check up on your progress, will she? We live in a small place, and we all know each other here."

"Her name is Claire ..."

"And I heard she's with Tom? Is that right?"

He smothered a sigh as he could tell what this was all about. Though Geneva was an attractive lass, he'd always only felt a minor buzz for her, which paled to the mind-blowing reaction Claire caused with just a single look. Where Claire was never more than anything but herself, Geneva always tried too hard. And it wasn't just all physical with Claire. It was their connection to each other's mind and soul. The way she made it easy for him to allow her to see his vulnerability and the way she'd let him in when no promises had been made on his part when they first met. Thinking back to the other day, he shook his head. He'd known the steaming anger that had risen within him when he'd first heard of Claire meeting with Tom and how that rumour almost made him lose his sense of judgement. He could not allow room for any gossip to go around, especially when Claire was away. Geneva should definitely not come in. 

"Look, as ye can see, I'm fine. I dinnae think it's a good idea us meeting like this. Let's keep personal stuff away and keep this professional, aye?"

She took a while to accept his dismissal. Sheer frustration swept over her face before she managed to compose herself. He tried to offer any semblance of an apology, but she cut him off. "I'm the one who understands your condition and how tough it is to live a normal life with your PTSD. And I know better than anyone else right now how to handle it."

Irritation coasted down his back. "There's no doubt you're a brilliant therapist, Geneva. But I am much more than a textbook scenario. Something Claire has always understood."

"But for how long, Jamie?"

"That is none of your concern," he said cooly. "Now, please go as I have things to do."

Her back straightened with steely dignity, and Jamie could tell every movement was measured to create the most dramatic effect. It was another detail he found unattractive and probably why he'd never acted on Geneva's crush for him. "Here's my theory," she began in a low voice. "You're just with her because you needed to fix someone, and she fits the bill. That's what you've been doing all your life - fixing everyone's problem. You'll never be happy, Jamie, if you keep repeating the same pattern over and over again."

He swallowed his anger. "How I choose to live my life is my concern, and if it means repeating the same pattern, then so be it. Forcing me to see things the way you want me to will only piss me off. So while I still have patience, please go."

He took a tentative step backwards, waiting for her to leave so he could close the door. Instead of walking away, she took him by surprise and threw herself against him, looping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips against his.

Christ! Repelled by the assault, he grasped her shoulder and pushed her away. "What the bloody hell was that?" he gritted angrily.

Face red, she squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. "Mark my words, it's just a matter of time before Claire is unable to deal with your PTSD anymore. I know the pattern, and I've seen it a million times. Most men with this condition end up alone because no one fully understands the extent of what they go through. Oh sure, the people in their lives say they understand but do they really? It's a scary thing for most and an uncomfortable situation to live in. As for me ... I know, and I understand, and I can handle it because I've studied and worked with people like you. And when that day comes, and she leaves you for good, know that I'll be here waiting." 

"Just because you know my history, it doesn't make ye an expert in knowing how my life will turn out to be. And ye don't know a thing about Claire, her heart, her resilience ..."

She snorted in disgust. "You just wait and see." With that, she turned around and walked off. 

He almost choked. Has the lass gone mad? His skin crawled with icy foreboding as he glanced across the street, his eyes searching for his neighbour. To his relief, Mrs Fitz was no longer stood in the garden to witness Geneva's kiss. A sudden ugly thought came to him, and he wondered what Claire would do if she'd been in his position. Jamie shook his head and immediately dismissed the notion. Tom wouldn't dare. Jamie had already made sure, loud and clear, that Claire was off-limits.

When Geneva's kiss drifted back to the forefront of his mind, he grimaced. His first impulse was to ignore the whole incident. But on second thoughts, he should tell Claire in case words of it reached her before he could explain. He wasn't a hundred per cent sure no one had witnessed that weird occurrence, and if someone did, it would surely be tonight's topic on every dinner table in Broch Mordha. Worriedly, he glanced up and down his street and only saw an unfamiliar car and driver on the phone. Probably Mrs Fitz's new guest, he figured. Satisfied with that thought, he shut the door.

Attempting to get his composure back before he called Claire, he headed for the sideboard in his dining area, grabbed a bottle of whisky, and poured himself a measure. He threw back a shot, his eyes watering slightly in deference to the burn that slid down his throat. He was about to pour another one when the doorbell rang. Again.

What does she want now? He slammed the glass down on the dining table and made his way back to the door. This time he was going to tell Geneva to cancel his therapy appointment. The lass was mad, and he hadn't known the extent of it until today. He'd always thought of her crush for him as a harmless fancy, but obviously, with Jenny's meddling, she'd set her hopes up. This time, he's had enough. With irritation simmering in his guts, he opened the door ...

And was met by an imposing figure obstructing the daylight. 

Jamie heard an unintelligible grunt in greeting, and the smell of tobacco invaded his nostrils. He peered at the face, but it was shadowed by a wide-brimmed fedora hat and several days worth of stubble. He blinked to rid the cobwebs threading patterns on his brain and forced his body to straighten to its full height.

"What's that on your mouth?" the man growled.

What the ...? "Quentin?" 

"You got lipstick on!"

Horror swooped in as Jamie realised he was still exhibiting the evidence of Geneva's kiss. He immediately swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and instantly felt nauseated when he saw the smudged scarlet on his knuckles. Jesus! "It's not ... it's..."

"It's not my niece's," the older man finished with a cock of his bushy eyebrow.

"It's not mine either," Jamie retorted without thinking. Ah, bloody fuck! "I mean ... it's not what ye think."

"I would certainly hope it's not yours." Quentin narrowed his eyes at him, taking his measure. Jamie did the same to him. He wondered what the man was thinking, but Claire's uncle spoke again before he got a chance. "Well, are you letting me in, or are we just going to stare at each other like a couple of dafties?"

Who the fuck does he think he is? But he quickly reminded himself this was Claire's uncle, so he slightly softened his stance. Swallowing the sour taste in his mouth, Jamie took a step back and motioned Quentin into his home. "Come in." 

Ignoring Jamie's dark look, Quentin strode into his cottage, but he's brought up short when he saw the whisky and shot glass on the dining table. He plopped his sling bag onto the chair, opened it, pulled out a tequila bottle and placed it on the table. Then he turned around and slid his hands into his pockets. "You and I, lad, are going to talk before my niece arrives." 

Jamie shut the door and eyed Quentin, carefully pondering his words. As he'd suspected, Quentin was very much like Harry but with broader shoulders, an intense darker face, and eyes that seemed to flash with diabolical laughter. It was a face that had probably seen too much in his lifetime. All his mannerisms were large, confident and perfectly balanced, like those of a wild cat, and when he stood in his space like this, he appeared to be a wild animal held in a cage too inadequate for it. His features might be similar to Harry's, but yet, their difference was like night and day.

A scoff rasped his throat. "I've had enough forced therapy for the week, thank ye very much."

"If I didn't know you any better, I would have bloodied your nose after seeing that lipstick on your mouth."

"If ye're dying to punch me on the face, then give me yer best shot. I dinnae have to explain anything to ye. I've done nothing wrong."

"No, you haven't," Quentin sighed, nodding his head. "I saw what passed."

Jamie absorbed that while keeping his features impassive. "And yet ye're still judging me."

Quentin's mouth twitched, but his eyes remained serious. "I'm not."

"Right from the start, it felt like ye've been giving me the first degree."

Quentin disregarded his words with a shrug. "I was just making sure Claire's in good hands. She's all I have."

Jamie understood the sentiment. He would have probably done the same if he'd been in Quentin's shoes. Christ, hadn't he felt like committing murder when he'd first found out about Tom?

"We've met before, you know?" Quentin interrupted his thoughts.

Jamie's head shot up.

"Way before our video chat," the older man revealed. "But I figured you don't remember."

He didn't, so he shook his head.

Quentin took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh before placing it on the table. "Claire recently told me she just found out that it was you and your godfather, ...Murtagh...I believe his name was, who saved her from the car accident. She asked me if I knew." Quentin paused to discern Jamie's expression. When he couldn't seem to read anything, he proceeded. "I admitted I did and ..."

"Ye knew who I was?"

"No. Not until you told me your family name and mentioned Lallybroch near the end of our video chat. I thought Claire would be angry for not telling her, but she didn't say much else except that both of you have been clueless all these years. So if you have any questions about what happened, I'll fill in the void for you if it'll help you move on."

Jamie shoved a hand through his hair. Feeling suddenly restless, he went to the drinks' cabinet to retrieve shot glasses. He grabbed the tequila bottle, uncapped it, and poured two equal measures. "So now you want to diagnose me? Is that it?"

"Diagnose you for what?"

Jamie realised Quentin knew nothing of his condition. Claire hadn't told her uncle. He ignored the question and handed the shot to Quentin. "Why bring it up now?"

Quentin took the offered glass, raised a silent toast with Jamie, and simultaneously threw back the shot. They both flinched at the heat. "I owe you the truth," Quentin replied, placing the shot glass on the table. "Take it or leave it. I've been silent about it for years. Tell me what you remember, and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Did he really want to know? The past would eventually catch up and come out, that much Jamie knew, so he might as well have it out in the open. Taking a deep breath, he paced to the window and with his back to Quentin, he began recounting what he could remember from the accident. He waited for the white noise or the torture to start swarming in his head, but to his astonishment, they never came. Though the memory of that fateful day was more vivid than ever, its power to hold him in a choke was diminished. The words flowed with ease, and it began to feel like he was describing someone else's story. When he was done, he turned around and saw just in time a shadow passed across the older man's face. He looked like ten years have been shaved off his life.

Quentin took a seat and clasped his hands together. "I lied to you the day when we first met."

Jamie stilled and looked at Quentin. "What do ye mean?"

"I was in Cairo when I heard the news of the accident. I immediately took the first plane out and headed here. I was told Claire was being taken care of by your parents and that both of you were inseparable. When I arrived at Lallybroch, you were holding Claire in your lap like she was the most precious thing." Quentin paused and smiled at the memory before descending back to that sad place in his head. "But when you laid eyes on me, that's when you lost it and started screaming. Claire screamed along with you ...God, it was awful. At that time, it hadn't truly sunk in what happened to my brother and his wife, and it was torture to see you kids in such pain." Quentin shook his head. "You were shouting something like ...I should be dead and that you've seen me go up in flames. You see, I've been told beforehand you'd witnessed the accident, and that's when it occurred to me you thought I was Harry. So I did what I thought was best at that moment ...I knelt before you and fibbed. Only because nothing could calm you down, and I wanted to ease your distress. I pretended to be Harry and told you I wasn't dead, and when you asked how I got away, I made up some story like managing to crawl out the last minute. Somehow that little white lie quieted you down."

"I honestly don't remember that part," Jamie whispered, taking a seat across from Quentin. "But in saying that, all the memories of that day are just beginning to resurface. I'm just starting to remember again. It all began when ..."

"When you met Claire for the second time," Quentin finished for him.

Jamie nodded with a small smile as he watched Quentin stood up and poured them another shot. 

Quentin gazed at him with all the seriousness. "May I ask you a question?" 

"Ask away." 

Quentin pushed the shot glass towards him. "What if, instead of Harry, you were the one that died that day?" He paused and looked directly into his eyes. "What do you think would you have missed in the years that came after?" 

Jamie frowned. "Why would ye ask such a thing?"

Quentin sighed. "Because lately, I've been asking myself the same question every day. I've searched for the answer going back through almost twenty years, and I've come up with almost nothing. Besides Claire coming into my life, I have nothing to show. Of course, there were a few memorable moments when I was granted an acknowledgement of merit for my work. And then there were a few rare occasions I got to spend time with Claire. But between those scraps of time, there's only a grey empty void. The rest of my days were spent going through the motions, keeping a barrier between me and the world. I realised, ever since my brother died, I've been living in fear that the same fate could befall me ... that's why I've never married. So you see now, Jamie, I haven't been living at all. And I don't want you to make that mistake."

Jamie gave a wistful smile. "I see that, and with everything happening, I'm just starting to understand. We all have to walk around lugging a past, getting from one step to the next. Just need a healthy way to release it, as Claire often reminded me enough." When Jamie saw Quentin nodding in agreement, he saw an opportunity. He cleared his throat and straightened himself. He'd just bonded with Claire's uncle, so surely that should mean something. "So ....Quentin," he began nervously, "does this mean ye're fine with me being with Claire?"

Claire's uncle went back to looking like he wanted to rip a head off. "No. I've just arrived after a long flight, and you haven't offered me anything. I haven't eaten in the last six hours, and you're asking me if I'm okay with you being with Claire? So far, all you've done is open the tequila bottle without thanking me for it and nought to impress me."

Ah, shite! Hearing that, he pushed himself to his feet. "I ken a few good places that serve excellent pub grub," he said rapidly.

"Do you not have food in your kitchen, lad?"

"Aye, I do, but since ye're starving, I thought it would be easier if we got something out," Jamie reasoned. "So, what do ye have in mind?"

Quentin glowered at him before slugging back the rest of his shot. "Somewhere where they serve greasy food."

Jamie stopped. "But Claire said yer heart ..."

"The greasier, the better," Quentin growled.

It was clear to Jamie he's still miles away from wholly winning over Quentin. He reckoned he's probably not going to win that battle today, and one plate of greasy food was not going to kill Claire's uncle. Ah, hell! Didn't his ma once said that the way to someone's heart is through one's stomach? There's a chance that this could still work. But before he could say anything, his phone buzzed, and he almost knocked over the chair, trying to grab it. "It's Claire."

Quentin rolled his eyes.

Jamie quickly read Claire's message and smiled. Ah, there's a God after all! He glanced up at Quentin. "She's coming back home tonight."

"I knew that! Now, how about that nosh you were on about."

"Aye ...right ...I ken just the place."

..........

Five Hours Later

"This is a shithole!" Quentin grumbled, slurring his words and shoving his unfinished plate of Bangers and Mash away from him.

Tough shite! Jamie glanced out the window and then looked back at the time on his watch. Damn it! A plate of food each, five pints of lager for Quentin and three pints for him later, still no word from Claire, and if she didn't come home soon, Quentin would drink him under the table. As it was, he's feeling rather tipsy already.

"You know what?" Quentin tipped the bottom of the pint glass in his direction. "Since we arrived here, you kept looking out that window every few minutes. Am I boring you, or is there something interesting out there? If so, care to share?"

Jamie blew out a breath. "Just wondering when Claire's coming home. Haven't heard from her since her last message.."

"Is that why you're looking outside? Does she know we're here?"

"No! Christie is bringing her back from Inverness." 

"Who's Christie?"

"Some bloke."

"So what's outside? You keep looking out there."

Damn, so many questions! Jamie pointed his finger towards the window. "See that red door over there? Christie lives in that building, first floor, window facing the street. We'd know when they've arrived."

"Is that why you brought me here so you could check every once in a while if Claire's arrived?"

The older man was on to him, but Jamie wasn't about to admit it. "You wanted greasy food, did ye not?"

Quentin shrugged without answering. 

Jamie checked his phone again and agitatedly rubbed a hand behind his neck. What's taking them so long? Wicked thoughts were beginning to seep in. Has Claire, by any chance, heard about Geneva's visit and kiss? It wouldn't be an impossibility as rumours tended to make their way out of Broch Mordha. A part of him knew that the alcohol was dulling his reason, so he mentally shook himself. He should have called Claire earlier, right after Geneva left and told her what happened, but of course, Quentin's arrival had interrupted him from doing just that.

"Stop fidgeting. You're making me nervous."

"I'm just worried Claire would hear about that kiss ye witness earlier before I get to explain myself." 

A heartbeat passed. For the first time since Jamie had known Quentin, his tough demeanour slipped, and something akin to amusement flashed through. "Don't worry. If she's heard about it, she would have given you her two pennies worth by now, and that's putting it mildly. Of course ...worst-case scenario, you'll end up with your ears ringing for days after she's done telling you off." He smirked and raised his pint to his lips, his actions revealing he was only teasing. Jamie reined in his frustration and let it go without comment.

Obviously emboldened by Jamie's silence, Quentin leaned forward. "So, have you bought flowers for Claire for when she returns?"

"No."

"Why not? It would help your cause in case Claire heard about that kiss."

Jamie glared at Quentin. "Thanks for rubbing that in. But I dinnae have time. I was too busy entertaining ye. Besides, I bought her fruits. She loves fruits. I even bought her a variety of them."

The older man's eyes bugged out. "She's got you eating healthy too, huh?"

"Nothing wrong with that," Jamie muttered. "She likes chocolates too. I got her a big box of it. Lindt."

Quentin glanced out the window to his side and perked up. "Hey, someone just went through that red door. I don't know what Christie looks like, but it could be anyone."

Jamie followed his gaze, and sure enough, the red door was just closing. He glanced back at his phone on the table, and though he knew he would hear the sound of notification, he still needed to look to assure himself. There was still no message.

"First-floor window light just went on," Quentin observed in a low voice. "That's Christie's place, right?"

His head snapped up. "What?"

"Oh, look, that's Claire, looking out. I know that hair anywhere."

Jamie looked and saw Claire just in time before she moved away from the window and pulled the curtain. He swallowed the odd lump in his throat. What the hell is she doing in Christie's place? Then it all came rushing in, in full force. He'd left Claire on her own because of his stupid panic attacks, and when he'd finally come to his senses, it was probably too late because Christie had already entered the picture. And now everything that Geneva had told him earlier was coming to fruition. No, no!

A split second later, Jamie burst out the pub's front entrance and ran across the street, Quentin not far behind him.

This cannae be happening. This is the worse nightmare ever. Ach Christ, please dinnae let this be true. Please. She's my lass. Mine. No, no, no. Oh fuck, I need her.

Thunder roared in his ears, and he'd only vaguely managed to process Quentin's remark on his overreaction and something about alcohol consumption. But all he could think of was how he and Claire needed to talk, now. He couldn't accept their relationship was over when it hadn't had a chance yet. 

Jamie stopped in front of Christie's building and looked up the window, shouting Claire's name, while Quentin manically pressed the buzzer for the first floor. A few passersby eyed them warily, and a voice called from somewhere, "what the bloody hell, Fraser!" probably thinking they'd gone off their nuts, but he couldn't give a fuck. His heart hammered wildly, unable to think straight. All he could see was Claire with Christie, together. He groaned miserably, the very thought chilling him to the bone. Oh, please, God no!

No one responded to Quentin's incessant buzzing, and when he tried to yank on the knob, it didn't budge. It remained lock.

Jamie gathered a few stones that he could find on the cobbled street and started pelting Christie's window, roaring Claire's name on top of his lungs. His effort was rewarded when the curtain slid open, and he saw Claire looking down, her hair all wild and loose. But by now, they've also attracted a wee crowd that stood in a semi-circle behind him. He didn't take notice and focused his attention on the woman above.

"Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp! Don't ye dare leave me!" He shouted. "We love each other, remember? I was a prick for leaving ye on yer own when ye came to Scotland to be with me. I promise ye this will never happen again. And whatever problem we have together, we can fix this. Ye understand me?" He fell on his knees, grateful for the pain shooting up his thighs because his heart was breaking into thousand pieces. "I ken I could be a selfless arse, but I'm working on being a better person for ye ...for us. We've only known each other for a short while, but it's enough for me to see that ye're the one for me. Forever. I love ye with all my heart, Sassenach, and I cannae imagine life without ye."

Jamie paused to get his breathing back to normal and give Claire a chance to respond. But she remained immobile and continued to stare down at him. The crowd behind whispered and tittered, probably thinking he'd finally lost all his marbles. He even heard someone murmuring about him having had a bit too much to drink. But he didn't care even when he saw Quentin's shaking head, most likely in disgust at him. A hand touched his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, only focused on getting through Claire. "What do I need to do to make ye, believe me, Sassenach? Ye ken, I'll do anything to prove to ye how much I love ye. Does he ken the things I do? Like ...like what song makes ye smile? I can sing it for ye if that's what it would take." When the silence lingered, except for the hush sounds from behind him, Jamie puffed out a silent curse. "Christ ... I'll do it. For ye, ye hear me? I'll sing that damn song. Just so ye ken, I meant every word I said." 

Then he stood up from his kneeling position and gave Rick Astley a run for his money. 

..........

Hands on her chest, Claire stood inert behind Jamie, listening with interest as he belted out Rick Astley's Never Gonna Give you Up in a scratchy voice. She tilted her head to the side and watched in fascination his stiff, sparse hip movement that went with his song. She'd wanted to alleviate Jamie's suffering and save him from further embarrassment, but midway through his moving speech, she'd caught a glimpse of her uncle. He'd given her a warning shake of his head, telling her to let Jamie finish pouring his heart out. So with a sigh, she stood back and waited. 

Oh, Jamie, Jamie!

This beautiful, rugged giant of a man and former SAS soldier was singing to her as though his life depended on it. How could he think she'd left him? She needed to put her arms around him and reassure him that he's the one for her too and that there's been nobody else but him.

"Jamie!" she rasped. When he didn't hear her, she cleared her throat and tried again. "Jamie! It's me, Claire!"

Jamie stopped and whipped around, his eyes taking her in, in total disbelief. "Sassenach?" he whispered. "It's ye."

Her throat constricted. "Uh-huh."

His head jerked back up to the window and then back to Claire. He looked as though he wanted to believe he was really seeing her but could not see past his fear just yet. "To whom the bloody hell was I proclaiming my love to then if ye were stood here all along?" he asked, throat working with emotion.

"You were singing to Mary Hawkins, Jamie," she croaked. "The star author of our publishing company."

"And what the hell is she doing up at Christie's place?"

Claire grimaced. This was really a sensitive subject, and they were talking about a public figure, and a small crowd was watching them. So she stepped closer and spoke in a low voice. "I think Mary and Tom have a thing for each other. And I have a sneaking suspicion ..." she glanced up at the window above where Mary still stood. "Tom is not going to be please when he finds out it was you who interrupted whatever they're up to."

"James Fucking Fraser!"

It was Tom, wherever he was shouting from. Jamie didn't wait to find out because, in one quick movement, he took Claire's hand and made short work of getting them into the dark alley to the applause and cheers of the bystanders. Laughing, they ran and ran until they were far away enough from prying eyes. And there in the darkened path, its only illumination coming from the full moon above, they found one another once again in each other's arms.

Dear Readers,

Firstly, thank you all for your feedback in the previous chapter. I'm going to keep this short as I still tire easily.

As I've mentioned before, I haven't been well the last few days; hence the delay for this instalment. I hope you enjoyed this one. If there are any inconsistencies and grammar mistakes, I blame them on my medication. Haha!