Chapter Text
“It was the day the sun’s ray had turned pale
With pity for the suffering of his Maker
When I was caught, and I put up no fight,
My lady, for your lovely eyes had bound me.”
Beneath an ancient willow tree, Jamie sat against its trunk with me in his arms. His deep voice murmured quietly in my ear, his chest humming with every word. I turned my gaze up to his eyes, shockingly blue against the dull, gray sky.
He was a man in love. Beautifully, happily in love.
“I remember the first time ye opened those lovely eyes after I stole ye away from the fairy hill.” He cupped my face, caressing my cheek with this thumb. “Ye’d think after three years of staring into them day after day, they might no longer steal my breath.”
His chest inflated with a shaky inhale, demonstrating just how wrong that assumption was.
“Jamie…” I leaned into his hand. His sweet words and my pregnancy hormones had moisture filling my eyes.
He continued his verse:
“Love found me all disarmed
And found the way was clear
To reach my heart down through the eyes
Which have become the halls and doors of tears.”
He kissed tenderly over my eyelids, the moisture of my own tears softening his lips.
I wanted him terribly. I wanted to peel off his clothes and kiss his warm skin. I wanted our bodies joined and our passion—
A high-pitched squeal had me jumping out of my skin just before our lips met.
“Mama!” Faith cried. “Daaa!”
I snapped my head around, craning my neck to look for Fergus and Faith, who only moments before were skipping stones near the edge of the lake. Jamie snorted, catching sight of them before I was able to turn my very pregnant body around to see Fergus holding a screeching Faith at arm’s length, a foolish grin stretched wide across his face.
Her bottom half was dripping wet. Her new dress, courtesy of Letitia MacKenzie, hung heavily, making it all the more difficult for Fergus to carry her—thrashing limbs and all.
“Bloody hell,” I grunted, struggling to stand up on my own—a task all the more difficult as I just entered my eighth month of gestation. Jamie rose effortlessly—the showoff—and pulled me steadily to my feet.
“It’s freezing out here,” I worried. “We need to get her inside.”
“What happened, a leannan?” Jamie said sweetly, pulling off his coat to wrap around our daughter, protecting her from the wind. I reached in and quickly peeled off her little skirts.
“I was bouncing rocks on the water like you showed me,” said Fergus, dissolving into a fresh fit of giggles, “and la petit soleil tried to do the same and fell in.”
“And were ye no’ supposed to be watching yer sister?”
“Of course I was. I fished her out, didn’t I?”
Faith was calming now that she was bundled up in Jamie’s coat and tucked snugly in his arms. He whispered quietly in her ear, and though I wasn’t fluent in Gaelic, I was quite certain he was promising her extra honey in her tea.
Fergus offered me his wet arm to follow the two mops of red hair up to the castle. He’d been increasingly careful with me as my pregnancy went on, recalling all too clearly the scares of when I was pregnant with Faith.
Castle Leoch rose up in front of us as we walked down the path to the keep. By the time we made it inside, Faith’s pealing laughter could be heard from Jamie’s arms where he was nuzzling her neck.
Jamie didn’t take her upstairs to our room like I assumed he would, choosing rather to head straight for the kitchen to make good on his promises of sweet things for his little lass.
“You’re welcome to go find Hamish, Fergus, if you don’t want to be cooped up inside.”
“Merci, Maman.” He kissed my cheek and backtracked in the direction from where we came.
Mrs. Fitz immediately began rushing about and fussing over Faith—who incidentally no longer appeared distraught or cold, but was bundled in her father’s arms next to the large, warm fire.
Jamie held her on his knee, brushing her curls behind her ears and tracing the curve of her chubby, pink cheeks. “Ye see, a nighean, ye canna be cold for long when the sunshine lives inside ye.”
I bent over her, cupping her cheek and kissing her precious, squishy nose. She grinned happily, scrunching up her face with delight, all thoughts of icy dips in the lake forgotten.
“Here ye are, sweet lass,” said Mrs. Fitz, bringing her a steaming cup and a plate of biscuits. Faith made a grab for the biscuits as Jamie took the cup, blowing noisily on the hot liquid to cool it down to a temperature suitable for a child of only one and a half years old.
“Oh, ’tis a fine thing to have weans in the castle, especially one of Ellen’s wee grandchildren,” Mrs. Fitz said, wiping a crumb off Faith’s cheek. “My own granddaughter has a babe no’ much older than this wee lassie—that’ll be my first great-grandchild, ken—only, I’ve no’ yet had a chance to meet her. Ye might ken her yerself? Mistress MacKimmie? She lives o’er near Broch Mordha at Balriggen. ”
“Laoghaire MacKimmie is your granddaughter?” I asked while hanging up Faith’s wet skirts near the fire. The MacKimmie family were our tenants, though I rarely saw them. They only came out to Lallybroch for Quarter Day and didn’t care much for company otherwise.
“Indeed she is. Simon promised he’d bring her by to visit as often as she liked before they wed, but I havena seen her since their hasty vows two and a half years ago.” The way she emphasized the two and a half years with an exaggerated nod and large eyes was very telling. If their baby was a little older than Faith, Laoghaire must’ve gotten pregnant before she was married—hasty wedding indeed.
“Oh, I see.”
Jamie’s mouth twitched with humor, no doubt thinking of our own premarital fornication preceding our hasty nuptials.
“Aye,” said Mrs. Fitz. “’Twas a wee bit of a scandal a few years back. The lass was caught by her father flirting about and kissing young men in the castle alcoves. He asked Colum to have her beat for it in front of all the clan o’er supper. Foolish men, if ye ask me. The first thing yon lass did after her punishment was run away to go cry in Simon MacKimmie’s arms. Funny thing, I didna see him trying to take the punishment for the lass, even as he was the one luring her into the alcoves to begin with.”
“Mmphm,” grumbled Jamie, ears turning as pink as Faith's cheeks, “I recall the shame of my own beating here at sixteen. Most unpleasant.” His eyes darted to Mrs. Fitz, ears changing from pink to flaming red in an instant. I was very curious about the reason for that beating.
Mrs. Fitz just smiled and continued on, “’Twas no’ long after did Laoghaire’s dresses start fitting too tight and her father demanded the young couple be handfast.” She shook her head and clucked her tongue. “Ye havena seen my wee great-grandchild now, have ye?”
“We have,” I said. “I didn’t get to deliver the baby because we were away in Paris, and the family stays mostly to themselves, but they came to Lallybroch last Quarter Day. Marsali and Faith spent the afternoon playing together.”
“Oh, dearie! Ye must tell me all about my wean!”
As I regaled her with what few stories I had of her golden-haired great-grandchild, Jamie assisted Faith with polishing off what was left of the biscuits, neither of the two beasts having any consideration for the pregnant woman next to them.
“I shall have to make my own way out to see them soon,” Mrs. Fitz said, her tone falling as she went on, “that is, if the Laird can spare me. It’ll likely have to wait until...until after his passing.” Her eyes misted over, and she grabbed my hand. “How much longer d’ye think he might be wi’ us?”
“Oh…” I shook my head, feeling uncomfortable talking about my patient without him knowing, but anyone who looked at Colum knew his time was running short. “We never know what God has in store, but…” I drifted off, letting her draw her own conclusions.
She nodded, her suspicions confirmed. “’Tis good of ye both to come minister to him in his last months. I ken it isna easy when ye’re so far gone wi’ child. Ellen would ha’ been grateful to ye.”
In truth, I wasn’t expecting to be gone from Lallybroch for so long. We’d been at Leoch over the winter months while Colum’s health slowly declined. The time was coming close when I’d have to decide whether I should have our baby at the castle or abandon my patient and go back home for the birth.
“Ye ate all the biscuits?” an accusing voice squeaked out next to Jamie.
I turned to find a stocky little boy—perhaps three years old—inspecting Faith’s empty plate with a look of entitled disappointment. He had fair hair and vibrant green eyes.
“William Buccleigh MacKenzie, ye’ll no’ be spoiling yer supper, d’ye hear?” said Mrs. Fitz.
“Weel, she is spoiling her supper!” he spat angrily back, pointing at Faith while squaring his shoulders at Mrs. Fitz.
“Dinna fash yersel’ wi’ what the lass is doing. ’Tis none of yer concern, ye wee heathen.”
The little miscreant bent his head down and was about to charge the old woman, but Jamie snatched him up by the scruff of his collar, his short, little legs running madly in the air like a Tom & Jerry cartoon from the 1940s.
Faith watched with wide, fascinated eyes, safely wrapped in her father’s other arm, biscuit crumbs stuck to the corners of her mouth.
“Wee Buck MacKenzie, is it?” said Jamie, giving the child a little shake to get his attention. “I see ye’ve inherited yer Da’s sunny disposition.”
“Put me down!” Buck cried. “I’ll tell my Da. He’ll box yer ears!”
“Wouldna be the first time.” Jamie waited for the boy to settle down before he set him roughly on his feet.
“Who are you?” asked Buck, looking over Jamie’s immense size with no less venom, but a newfound respect.
“Watch yer tone, wee man,” said Mrs. Fitz. “Ye’re speaking to the Laird Broch Tuarach. Yer cousin.”
“Laird?”
Jamie patted him a little more forcefully on the head than could be considered affectionate. “Aye. Ye can call me cousin Jamie. This is my daughter Faith and my wife Claire.”
The little boy’s head followed the introductions, but gave no acknowledgement. His eyes went back to Jamie, appraising him once more before he turned to Mrs. Fitz and asked, “Ye got any more biscuits?”
“I dinna have any at present, but come back after supper and there might be some fresh.”
“Buck? Buckie laddie, where did’ye run off to?” a woman’s voice called from out in the hall.
“Mmphm,” grumbled Mrs. Fitz as she immediately busied herself with kitchen work, no doubt trying to avoid whoever it was that was coming for the boy.
The woman didn’t look surprised to find Buck in the kitchen. She smiled indulgently as soon as she laid eyes on him. She was clearly Buck’s mother with her fair hair and green eyes, though the similarities of appearance stopped there.
“There ye are, mo mhac,” she said, coming over to her son and planting a kiss on the crown of his head. She stood up and addressed both Jamie and me. “Apologies if he disturbed ye. He’s got his father’s strong will, to be sure. I’m Geillis MacKenzie.” She gave a polite half-curtsey.
“Claire Fraser,” I inclined my head, “and this is my husband—”
“The Laird Broch Tuarach,” she finished for me. “Dougal’s nephew.”
“A pleasure to meet ye, mistress,” said Jamie, his face unreadable.
“So ye’re the famed ‘Red Jamie’ I’ve heard so much about. Ye made quite an impression on those who’ve seen ye in battle.”
“Mmphm. I understand ye’ve been out wi’ Dougal on the battlefield these long months.”
Her chin rose up, and she puffed out her chest with pride. “Aye, we have. Has no’ been easy, especially wi’ a bairn,” she patted her son’s shoulder, “but sacrifices must be made so that all of Scotland may be free of English oppression.”
“Mmphm,” Jamie grunted, hearing her implied criticism of his decision to stay out of the rebellion.
“Ye might ken we’ve a few tenants from Broch Tuarach who’ve joined the cause?”
Jamie nodded, though he didn’t reveal his frustration. He tried dissuading our tenants from joining the fight, and most of them were more than happy to listen, but there were a few holdouts who insisted on fighting.
“So,” I interjected with little in the way of inhibition of my mocking tone, “you’ve come back home? Does that mean you were successful in beating back Cumberland and restoring a Stuart king to the throne?”
“Not yet. We had to take a quick detour to the castle, but we’ll be heading back out soon enough.” Her eyes raked over me with a shrewd and calculating look. She either had no means of hiding her expression or no desire to do so. “It truly is a pleasure to meet ye, Mistress Fraser. I’ve heard so much about ye,” her eyes turned to Faith in Jamie’s arms, “and yer family.”
She stepped forward and bent over Faith, caressing her chubby little cheek. Jamie’s body was unusually tense and still, and I could see that I was not the only one picking up on something sinister about the woman.
“Wee Faith,” she said, her voice taking on a mystical quality, “yer eyes truly are like the sun shining in a clear, blue sky.”
“Who is it that’s been talking to you about our daughter?” I asked.
“Oh, people here and there.” She stood up smiling, her voice unnaturally sweet. “Ye should ken by now, Claire, that there are no secrets in the Highlands. And you being a sassenach married to a Laird in a time of war against other sassenachs,” she let out a contrived giggle. “Ye’re all just ripe for gossip.”
As true as that may have been, it was hardly a comfort.
Jamie stood up with Faith in his arms, clearly ready to take his leave of Dougal MacKenzie’s latest wife. “Thank ye for caring for our wee lassie, Mrs. Fitz. Ye’ve restored her spirits with yer biscuits and good cheer. I’m afraid we must take our leave.”
“’Twas my pleasure,” said Mrs. Fitz, coming over to plant a kiss on Faith’s messy cheek. “I’ll bring her skirts up once they dry. Come visit me anytime, ye hear?”
Jamie turned and gave a halfhearted bow to Geillis MacKenzie before hooking his arm around my waist and whisking me quickly away.
“I’ll see ye at supper, Lady Broch Tuarach!” called Geillis as we exited to the hall.
When we were safely out of earshot, Jamie grumbled, “Speaking of hasty weddings.”
“Is that why your uncle married her? She was pregnant?”
“Possibly. And she seems to have a passion for his cause. I suppose that brought him comfort so shortly after my auntie died.”
Jamie put out an arm to help me upstairs. I grabbed hold and began the trek up to the third floor. His bicep was large and solid, even when relaxed. We were coming up on three years of marriage, and the most mundane of things still made my heart flutter wildly.
“Ye all right, Sassenach?” He looked down with concern. “Is the wean pressing on yer lungs again.”
“I’m fine, darling.” I forced myself to breathe and squeezed his arm—both in reassurance and for my own gratuitous pleasure.
“I can’t say I’m excited to meet your Uncle Dougal. You’ve told me so little of his more pleasant characteristics that I imagine him as a grouchy, violent Scottish giant, wreaking havoc wherever he goes.”
“He’d be pleased to hear; he worked hard for that reputation.”
“Lovely.”
I leaned on Jamie heavily up the last flight of stairs. My feet were sore and swollen, and all I could think of was lying in bed and having Jamie’s big hands rub away all my body’s aches and pains.
Such a luxury was not meant to be had, unfortunately. One of Colum MacKenzie’s servants awaited us by the door.
“Good day to ye, sir. And you, mistress,” she curtsied.
“How can we help ye, lassie?” asked Jamie.
“The MacKenzie wishes to speak with both of ye, if ye please.”
Jamie grumbled and looked down at me and Faith, reluctant to bother his wife and child with the MacKenzie’s whim.
“It’s all right,” I said. “We’ll change Faith and be on our way.”
“Ye sure, Sassenach?”
“It’s fine, really.” The poor man was dying after all.
Jamie addressed the servant. “Aye. Tell him we’ll be there shortly.”
“Thank ye, my Laird. He’s in his study.”
Jamie took his bloody time changing Faith, in no rush to see his uncle. In truth, any time he had a conversation with Colum, it made my stomach turn in knots, no matter that the man was weeks, if not days, away from leaving this world. There always seemed to be some underlying hostility between Jamie and his uncle that I couldn’t place. Perhaps it was lingering resentment toward Jamie’s father. Perhaps it was just a MacKenzie family trait.
When Faith was in fresh clothes, we set off back toward the staircase to Colum’s study. When we arrived, he was lying on the table where I always gave him his nightly treatments. His servants had already set out the ointment I’d concocted from comfrey and almond oil to ease his pain. He was looking rather weak and pale, even more so than usual.
“If ye dinna mind, Niece,” he said, “I require yer services a bit early this day. I’m afraid I am in too much pain to wait until after supper.”
“Of course,” I said, moving to prepare the ointment for his massage.
Jamie pulled up a chair in Colum’s line of sight. Faith squirmed out of her father’s arms to go see the birds Colum kept in his study.
“Careful, Sunshine,” I warned. “Look but don’t touch.”
“Ye requested to see me as well, Uncle?” asked Jamie.
“Aye, I did.” Colum groaned with pained relief as I started his massage. “I wanted to warn ye that Dougal has come to Leoch, and he’ll no doubt press ye to join his rebellion.”
“Aye. We just met his wife and bairn down in the kitchen.”
“Mmphm,” Colum grunted, leaving no question about his thoughts of Dougal’s choice of spouse. “I’m concerned that he’s involved in something particularly worrisome if he allowed himself to be pulled away from his war at a time where he’s needed so urgently.”
Jamie nodded. He’d heard the Jacobites were struggling to feed their troops over the cold winter. “Ye want me to keep an eye on him?” Jamie asked.
“Nay. I ken ye’ve yer own to look after, and yer new bairn should be coming soon. No, my thoughts turn toward what should happen to this clan should I pass before the end of this bloody mad rebellion.”
Jamie gave me a significant look. The battle of Culloden was only months away, and we both knew what would happen to Leoch and the MacKenzies when the Jacobites fell.
“I wanted to ask ye, Nephew, if—”
“Keep yer fingers out of the cages, mo ghrian, unless ye want them bitten off,” Jamie interrupted, calling out to Faith. She listened to her father and clasped her hands together before making kissy noises at a twittering chaffinch. The sweet thing always had a fondness for animals.
Jamie turned back to Colum. “I’m sorry, Uncle, but I canna abandon my own clan to serve yours.”
“No, laddie. I’m no’ asking ye to do so. I ken ye believe the English will win and rain their vengeance down upon this land. I only ask that if what ye say should come to pass, ye help see Hamish safe. I’m dying, Jamie, and should it happen before the end of this war, I worry Dougal may lead this clan to ruin. I dinna care to have my son share the same fate. I only ask that ye help see him and his mother safe, be it in Scotland or somewhere afar.”
“Hamish is my kin, and a braw young lad at that. I wouldna leave him in the hands of the English whether ye asked me to protect him or not.”
Colum’s body seemed to relax under my hands at Jamie’s promise. I massaged a knot of muscle near the bottom of his spine as their conversation went on.
“One more thing. I’d like to thank ye in some way for yer wife’s care of me in these last few months. I ken it wasna easy for yer family to be pulled away from Broch Tuarach, especially now wi’ the war so close to yer land. If there is anything in my power to give ye in gratitude, ask now, and it’s yours.”
“There’s no need—” I started.
“Gemstones,” Jamie cut me off. “They dinna have to be grand or fine, but we’d gladly accept any precious gems ye’d be willing to part with as payment.”
“Gemstones?”
Jamie nodded. I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering what on earth he was up to.
“So be it,” said Colum. “I’ll arrange to have what I can brought to yer room tonight after supper.”
“I thank ye, Uncle. Truly.”
Colum sighed heavily and closed his eyes as I finished his massage. My own eyes locked with my husband’s, curious about the gemstones. The only reason I could imagine that he’d want to collect them would be to travel through the stones, but Mandy and Jemmy wouldn’t need them for decades, and I certainly had no intention of going anywhere while he was still alive.
The question weighed on my mind as I cleaned off my hands and left Colum sleeping in his office with his servants there to tend to him. It was my intent to ask Jamie about it as soon as we were out of earshot of the study, but before I could, we were interrupted by yet another MacKenzie on our way to the stairs. This was the third time today that a MacKenzie disrupted our plans, and it was becoming too regular an occurrence for my taste.
“Jamie, lad!” said a fierce looking man who had a surprising resemblance to my husband, particularly in his build. “There ye are. I’ve had my men searching the castle for ye. I require yer assistance.” Of course he did. I tried not to roll my eyes.
“Dougal MacKenzie,” Jamie said, “this is my wife Claire. And our daughter Faith.”
Not in the mood for niceties, I didn’t bow or curtsy at the introduction, but Dougal didn’t care to notice. “Aye. Yer lady is the reason I meant to find ye.” He turned to me. “I hear ye’re a healer, lass?”
“I am.”
“A fine one at that,” said Jamie.
“Are you injured?” I looked him over, but saw no evidence of bumps, cuts, or bruises that might be causing him distress.
“No. I dinna ask for me. I have a delicate matter I’m dealing with, and I require not only yer assistance, but yer discretion as well.”
“As a general practice, I don’t talk about my patients to other people.”
“Then come quickly, if ye will. This is a matter of urgent concern.”
“I’ll just need to stop in my room to collect my box of medicines.”
Dougal grasped Jamie’s arm, startling Faith. “Make haste, Nephew, and meet me at the abandoned croft just beyond the mill. I’m afraid he’s got little time left, lest yer wife carries magic in that wee box of hers.”
Dougal’s urgency was contagious, driving us to quick action. Jamie knew better than to interfere with me seeing a patient at death’s door and didn’t protest even once about me exerting myself. When we got to our room, I checked over my supplies as Jamie belted on his sword, dirk, and pistol.
I raised an eyebrow at the impressive display of weaponry hanging from his waist, but he just shrugged. He knew his uncle better than I did, and apparently, it was best to do his bidding armed to the teeth.
We stopped by the kitchens and found Mrs. Fitz to watch over Faith before making our way out to meet Dougal. If Jamie thought there may be a need for weapons, there was no chance he’d bring our daughter along with us.
It was a longer walk to the croft than I expected. Clearly, Dougal wanted whatever he was doing to be kept secret from Colum and his men. My feet grew tired, slogging through the Highland countryside, and my large pregnant belly was even tenser than normal. I leaned heavily on Jamie throughout the length of our journey.
Finally, just before darkness completely overtook the sky, we arrived at a small house on a little farm. “Ho!” Jamie called to warn of our arrival.
Two men sauntered out lazily, clearly not possessing any of Dougal’s urgency. One had a piece of straw between a few missing teeth and the other was sipping from a flask of whisky.
“Angus. Rupert.” Jamie nodded to the men.
“Been a long time, Jamie lad!” said the one called Rupert, patting my husband on the arm as we came close.
“Come inside and keep yer voices down!” called Dougal.
Jamie grasped my hand and pulled me in behind him. The smell was awful and nearly had me shrinking away. It reminded me of the barracks in the midst of battle during the bloody war. Body odor, blood, vomit, piss, and shit all mingled together in a filthy medley of the worst of the human condition.
It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light from the fire and take in the source of that awful smell.
“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” It was a child. All my reservations were immediately gone, and I threw myself forward to help the patient. “What happened to him?”
Dougal filled me in as I completed a superficial examination of the boy. “We caught him sneaking around our camp. When we tried questioning him, he put up one hell of a fight. We need ye to heal him so we can question him some more.”
“Question him? About what?”
“About the English, of course. After sitting on death’s doorstep a few days, perhaps he’ll be more apt to give us information lest he be placed in the same position a second time for his stubbornness.”
I looked up at Dougal completely shocked. “Are you saying you are the one who put him in this condition?”
“I’d say he put himself in that condition, sneaking about where he wasna meant to be.”
“He’s a child. You’re telling me you beat a boy for wandering into the wrong place at the wrong time?”
“He’s no child, Claire,” said Jamie. “The lad must be fourteen or fifteen, at least. Maybe older.”
“Well he’s not a man!”
“Of course he is. Ye ken a half a dozen lads his age near Lallybroch caring for their own crops and starting families.”
“And you know my thoughts on that.”
Jamie knew better than to argue with me in this state. I knew the eighteenth century was a different time, but I couldn’t help but get offended when a boy who was barely an adolescent was being tortured as a prisoner of war.
The patient was curled up like a shrimp on a small cot. His clothes were soaked in blood and caked with muck and filth. His hair looked like it was meant to be dark, though it was hard to tell because it appeared to be stuck in one giant mat.
“Hello, young man.” I put a gentle hand on his arm. He flinched away, moaning in agony. Bright blue eyes shined in contrast to his filthy, battered skin. “My name is Claire. Claire Fraser. I’m a healer. I’m going to need to take a look at your wounds. Can you tell me your name?”
He didn’t speak a word. All I could hear was his labored breath.
“I wouldna wait for him to speak. He’s no’ said a thing since we found him,” said Dougal.
“Not for a lack of fucking trying by force on your part,” I snapped.
“Yer wife has a mouth on her, Jamie. Ye need assistance keeping her in line?”
I heard Jamie step toward his uncle, and when he spoke it was with menace in his tone. “My wife is here to assist at yer request. If I were you, Uncle, I’d be careful how ye show her gratitude.”
“Mmphm.” The sound of Dougal’s grunt left me with no question as to where Jamie inherited his own from.
“I need help cutting off his clothes,” I said. “I’ll have to clean him up to see the scope of the damage. And I need someone to start boiling a large pot of water.”
Jamie stepped away from Dougal to lend me a hand as Rupert took care of the water. We worked quietly for some time. It was no easy feat removing the patient’s clothes that were long since dried onto the wounds that weren’t still oozing blood and puss.
I assessed the damage while cleaning his slight frame. He had several broken ribs and abrasions. There was swelling everywhere and multiple lacerations from head to toe. His skin was burning hot with infection, and I had to cut off most of his hair because there was no way of getting it clean in its matted condition. After all his wounds were sanitized and bandaged, I retrieved a syringe of penicillin from my box and administered it in the cheek of his arse. Not for the first time in the last few years did I thank my future self for the gift of syringes and instructions for harvesting antibiotics.
By the time I was done with my patient, my entire body was exhausted. We’d certainly missed dinner, but I was too tired to really care.
My patient was exhausted too, and was finally sleeping soundly. He was curled up beneath a blanket, smelling clean, but hardly looking any better now than when he was covered in filth.
I looked to Jamie, terrified of leaving him in the care of the men who did this to him. He gave me a sympathetic eye, but shook his head. “We need to get ye to bed, Sassenach,” he insisted.
“But—”
Jamie raised a hand to stop me, not willing to tolerate any suggestions to the contrary. He went to his uncle and spoke in quiet tones. “Ye’re no’ to touch the lad, save feeding him and getting him to the necessary.”
“I dinna require ye to tell me how to care for my own prisoner.”
“Aye, but if ye harm him again, he’ll likely be dead by morning and certainly of no use to you then.”
I stood up clumsily and shuffled to Jamie’s side. His arm wrapped around my waist out of mindless habit. “I need to return every four hours over the next day to keep the infection at bay. Jamie is right; the boy will die if you harm him further.” I hoped our pleas would be enough to keep him safe.
“Every four hours?” grumbled Dougal. “Could ye no’ just inform Rupert and Angus how to manage him?”
“Absolutely not. This patient needs a trained professional.”
“Fine. We will refrain from questioning him until he’s out of harm’s way.”
“Just ensure that when you do question him again that you’re not putting him right back in it.”
“Mmphm.”
I gave the poor young thing one last look of sympathy before Jamie guided me out the door.
On our way back to the castle, I leaned heavily on my husband, allowing him to half carry me through the darkness that didn’t seem to affect his ability to maneuver over uneven land.
“You know,” I said, “an adolescent’s brain isn’t even close to being fully developed yet. I don’t see how you can think that child is a man.”
“What in heaven's name is an adolescent?”
“A teenager. A person who’s in between the developmental stages of childhood and adulthood. Like Fergus.”
“Fergus was minding himself when we found him,” Jamie reasoned.
“Yes, and we adopted him as our own because no child should have to do so.”
“Aye, but this laddie is older than Fergus.”
“Not by much.”
“Ye ken Fergus will be going away to university in a few years. He’ll be treated as a man, no’ a child.”
I grumbled at the idea of sending our son off to Paris by himself at such a young age. Jamie knew my thoughts and gave a patronizing chuckle. “Look at me, Sassenach. I did the same at sixteen, and at nineteen I inherited Lallybroch. That’s no’ much older than Fergus will be when he goes, nor is it much older than the laddie back there wi’ Dougal.”
I ignored what he considered perfectly valid points to make my own. “We can’t let Dougal hurt him again.”
“Dougal’s at war, Claire. He’s going to do what he must to ensure his victory, including questioning prisoners he caught sneaking through his camp. I would do the same in his position.”
“Not to a child!”
“He’s no’ a child.”
“Well, he’s not grown!” I winced as my belly contracted uncomfortably. The false labor contractions had been increasing over the last few weeks. They were yet to be painful, but they always put a strain on my diaphragm, impairing my ability to breathe effortlessly. I sucked in a breath and continued on, “You know, he reminds me of a boy I met years ago. Lost and alone. Starving, with no way to take care of himself.”
“Oh? What happened to him?”
“I’m not sure. I can’t imagine he lasted long in the wilderness by himself. It was in the Highlands, in fact, when I was traveling with my uncle.”
“How old were ye?”
“I must’ve been about ten. I think the boy was around the same age as me. Willie was his name.”
“Ye didna fancy the lad, now did ye?” Jamie teased, trying to get me out of my irritable mood.
“No, of course not. The thought never crossed my mind. The poor thing seemed positively feral.”
“Why does this laddie remind ye of him?”
“As I said, we were traveling through the Highlands. Lamb was meeting a few colleagues to sell some old artifacts he’d just dug up in Egypt. A few swords and daggers from the Fourth Crusade—”
“Swords? What kind?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t recall. It doesn’t matter. The point is, we had stopped to see some castle ruins, and when we went back to our car, we found a little boy rummaging through our things, looking for food. He was filthy and bloody like my patient back there, and he was all alone. He even had similar blue eyes and brown hair.”
“He left an impression on ye?”
“He did. We often saw young children in poverty in cities and towns, but for a child to be surviving on his own in the wild was a bit disturbing, especially since he seemed so hungry and helpless.”
“What did ye do wi’ him?”
“We fed him, of course. He hardly spoke a word, and he seemed terrified of everything around him. Lamb offered to drive him into town so we could find someone to care for him, but the boy took off like a bolt of lightning back into the forest. We looked for him for hours, but he was long gone. There was no trace of him.”
“An auld man and wee lass searched through a Highland forest for hours?” Jamie laughed, no doubt picturing me when I first came through the stones, utterly helpless in the wilderness.
“To be honest, I don’t think we would’ve looked half as long if the boy didn’t take off with one of Lamb’s swords.”
“Nooo,” Jamie snorted. “The wee heathen nicked a blade?”
I nodded, unable to help my smile. “Lamb was mortally offended, to the point where it almost overwhelmed his concern for the child’s welfare. We drove straight back into town and reported it to the authorities, but I don’t think they ever recovered the child or the blade.”
“In yer time, it’s no’ common for a bairn to be wi’out a home or a way to make a living?”
“I suppose it depends on the place.”
“I see. Weel, try to remember we’re in the middle of a war at present, and ’tis an common occurrence now.”
“Should we not try to help the boy?”
“Ye are helping him wi’ yer healing. But ye canna interfere wi’ a war chief and his prisoner. We’re trying to stay out of it, mind.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I grumbled, feeling every bit the exhausted pregnant woman I was.
“Come, mo ghràidh. Let’s find some food, retrieve our children, and get ourselves to bed. We’ve a long night ahead of us.”
He was right again. I could barely concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, much less thwarting a hostile war chief. I would need sleep, and I wouldn’t be getting much with a patient who was a mile away and needed tending every four hours.
When we arrived at the castle, I was ready to skip dinner and go straight to bed. All I wanted was to lay in my husband's arms, our children safe and close by, and feel his kisses on my skin as I drifted off to sleep.
“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine,” I murmured.
Jamie chuckled, pressing his lips on the top of my head. “Ye’re getting biblical in yer exhaustion, Sassenach.”
“I think I might be a bit delirious.”
“Come,” he laughed, pulling me down the hall.
Our progress was stopped, however, by yet another bloody Mackenzie.
“Nephew!” called Jocasta as she ran into us in the hall. She was carrying our daughter, so it wasn’t an altogether unwanted meeting. She and her husband were visiting Colum in his last few weeks of life. “I found this wee lassie with Mrs. Fitz, and I decided I needed to steal her away to paint her portrait.”
“How thoughtful of ye, Auntie.” Faith was trying to squirm out of her great aunt’s arms to get to her parents. I reached for her, but Jamie batted my hands away, no doubt wanting to spare me the substantial weight of yet another Fraser child on my already overtaxed frame.
“I’ll need a bit more time wi’ her, of course. Perhaps ye can bring her back in the morning?”
“As ye wish.”
I felt relieved knowing I would have the freedom to attend to my patient without having to bring my child to that filthy house Dougal was using for a prison. I was too tired to offer more than a kiss on her cheek and a weak “thank you” before Jamie whisked me away up the stairs.
Faith was as tired as her mother and fell asleep in Jamie’s arms as we made our way up to our room. I barely had it in me to take off my skirts and stays before collapsing on the bed. I was only half consciously aware of Jamie placing our daughter in my arms and kissing us both on the cheek.
Faith nuzzled my breast, taking advantage of my fatigue to nurse after being recently weaned. I felt her latch on—and heard Jamie’s indulgent chuckle—before the weight of exhaustion dragged me completely under.