#curlsgetsdemgurls

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

Edinburgh to Boston - Chapter 9 - Snow Day

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 

Chapter 3

Chapter4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Hello all, Sorry for the delay getting this chapter out there.  Real life some times gets in the way. This includes technology as my hard drive died. I didn’t lose much, most of what is really important was able to be salvaged.

I finally got around to including links to the other chapters, so anyone who has not read them all will be able to find them if they want. 

Has anyone noticed that Jamie has not called Claire Sassenach in eight chapters? Well, that will be rectified now. You don’t know how hard it was not to call her that all this time.

If there are any questions, comments, or thoughts please don’t hesitate to let me know. I can only learn from what you all say. Respectfully, please.

I do need to thank my beta @curlsgetdemgurls reading this and giving me the courage to post this. You are the best. Chapter 10 is underway.  I have no idea when it will be done, but there is a Chapter 10. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Without further delay, I give you:

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 9

Snow Day

Jamie and Claire sat at the table by the window, enjoying their breakfast. Jamie attacked his bowl of parritch, mixed berries, and honey with the ravenous appetite of a starving wolf who just happened across a carcass.

“Nuthin’ like a healthy bowl of parritch to start the day,” said Jamie, giving a withering look at Claire’s breakfast choices of fried eggs, bacon, and toast slathered with butter and jam.

“Well, Fraser, when in America, eat like one,” she said while waving a delectable piece of crunchy fried pork in the air. “It happens to be quite good. Even though they have got this bacon thing all wrong. Not like the rashers we have at home. Still, it is delicious.” Popping the tasty morsel into her mouth, she rolled her eyes and groaned ecstatically.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the remaining piece sitting on the plate, “Looks mostly like fat to me.” He reached over, snatching the ribbon of porkiness from her plate, considered it, and swiftly consumed it. “Hmm, fatty, salty, crispy, and smoky.  ‘Tis good, but I wouldna want to eat it every day.  Cannae be good for ye.”

Sighing and shaking her head,  Claire leveled a look of exasperation at him. “Live a little will you? We’re on vacation!”

He let out a laugh, “Yer right, but there is no need to be unhealthy.  As it is, I’ll no’ be going to the gym today. Hmm, mebbe I’ll just carry ye around instead,” he said smugly. Tilting his head to the side, he gave her body an appraising look, much like gazing upon the beauty of a perfect rose.

“What do ye weigh a leannan, about 8-9 stone? That’s no’ much. I’ll never get a decent workout just carrying ye around,” he smirked.

“Why thank you, I think. That is supposed to be a compliment, right? You don’t think I’m too thin do you?” Suddenly becoming self-conscious, she looked down at herself trying to figure out if she was too fat or too thin.

“Aye, it ‘tis and no yer not. I like ye just fine the way ye are.”

Jamie leaned back in his chair stretching out his long legs and taking a sip of his coffee.

“So, lass, what would ye like to do today?”

“Well, if you are worried about not getting your proper exercise, there are other forms of exercise that will raise your heart rate, you know,” Claire said as she cast a quick glance back toward the bed.

Jamie ignored this.

“I ken what we can do! Why dinna ye take me to some of yer favorite places ye liked to go when ye lived here?”

“I don’t know if that is a wise idea. Boston winters are very cold and I don’t think that either of us has appropriate clothes to go wandering about. Besides, I don’t know how many places are open today. Most people will be digging out.”

Getting up, Jamie went to rummage through his suitcase. Sure enough, he found his favorite forest green cable knit pullover, his black jeans, a pair of duck boots, and his down jacket.

“Weel, I’ll be damned.  I dinna remember packing these. Check yer bag let’s see what you have in there.”

Claire opened her suitcase and found clothes suitable for outdoor activities. She found her favorite cashmere jumper in midnight blue and her woolen turtleneck sweater in deep rich wine. She also found her favorite black skinny jeans, a warm wooly hat and gloves, and her parka.

“I know I didn’t pack these. I’m sure of it.” Her eyebrows drew together in confusion as she considered how these clothes ended up in her bag.

“It doesna matter how they got there, yer clothes are here. Let’s get dressed. I shall leave the itinerary to ye.”

Claire’s breathing quickened. She began to nervously play with one her curls, twisting it around her finger, over and over.  Truth be told, there was a certain amount of anxiety about leaving the room. She worried about dredging up old memories that she safely tucked away after ending her marriage to Frank. Least of all was the prospect of visiting places that held unpleasant memories. Most certainly she did not want to visit these places with Jamie. Fearing the possibility of a chance meeting with Frank gave her shivers.  She concluded that the likelihood of a chance meeting would be remote as classes would be canceled. That would leave Frank free to shack up with some bimbo, er umm, a young woman all day.

“What’s amiss, lass? Ye look a bit peely-wally. Are ye alright?”

“Sorry?”

“Something is bothering ye. It’s written all over yer face. Ye ken ye can tell me anything.”

Jamie walked back to the chair by the window, pulling Claire along. He sat down and settled her on his lap.

“I dinna want ye to feel that ye need to tell me anything that ye canna, but I can see yer fair fashed over something. Mo nighean donn, tell me what’s bothering ye if ye can.” He raised his hand cupping her cheek and began to stroke his thumb over her cheekbone.  Melting into the warmth of his hand, she relaxed.

“I wasn’t honest with you when I told you I slept well.”

She cleared her throat nervously, eyes darting around the room searching for something to focus on while gathering her thoughts.

“I, ah, had a nightmare about, ...well, it was about Frank. It left me feeling rather unsettled, to say the least.”

Her body language and voice were contradictions, outwardly appearing composed while her voice quavered with emotion. Describing her dream, she related how Frank tried to plant seeds of doubt and used her insecurities against her. The Scottish Barbarian and The English Rose. Insinuating she had a need for someone to dominate her. Jamie observed Claire as she told her story. Her face contorted with frustration, anger, shame; her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I told…,” her voice cracked, “I told him that I love you and you love me. And, and that he should bugger off and not come back,” Claire said this with pride in her voice. “But he said he would come back when I called him. I don’t want to see him ever again, really I don’t. I’ll never call him back, never.” With that, Claire buried her face into Jamie’s shoulder crying shedding tears of outrage and irritation.

Jamie’s mouth drew together in a tight white line.  His eyes burned with anger. That Englishman, that filthy sassenach bastard! How could he have the audacity to come into his bed between him and his woman upsetting her, trying to sow the seeds of doubt. He had no care for insults or slurs directed at him. He heard them before. But, Claire! She is kindness and goodness personified. If I ever meet him...

Jamie’s arms came around her, pulling her close to him.  His strong hands rubbed her back in soothing circles. He spoke to her softly in the Gàidhlig, speaking words of comfort that had no meaning to Claire but spoke to her heart and soul.

Jamie cradled her close to his chest and gently stroked her hair, “I’ll let nay harm come to ye as long as I walk this earth. Dinna be afraid, a leannan, there is the two of us now.”

Claire nodded her head and sniffed.

Jamie’s hand reached under Claire’s chin, raising it up so that he could look onto her face. Her eyes were puffy, nose red and runny, and her cheeks were tear stained.

“Ye are so beautiful, mo chridhe,” Jamie said smiling. He took a serviette wiping Claire’s runny nose as he kissed away her tears.

She sniffed, “You must be blind. I’m really not sure you should be operating anymore. I’m sure I don’t look beautiful right now.”

“Yer beautiful to me always,” he said lovingly.

Jamie’s voice took on a more serious tone. “Claire, if ye dinna want to go out because yer worried that ye will run into Frank,” he growled saying the bastard’s name, “I dinna want you to do anything that will make ye uncomfortable. We could always find something else to do.” He waggled his eyebrows in an attempt at being suggestive.

“Ridiculous man,” she said with a smile in her voice, feeling so grateful to have found him.

Closing her eyes to aid her concentration, she considered Jamie’s suggestion carefully weighing each of the pros and cons.

How much longer will I give Frank power over me, to control me and my life? It’s been three years since we divorced and he still tries to make me insecure, belittle me. When will I remove myself from his grasp? It’s now or never. It’s time to choose.  Time to take back what’s mine.

“NO! No, I won’t run and hide.  Frank has run my life for far too long, and I’ll be damned if I let him continue. Let’s go see Boston, Jamie. We’ll make our own memories,” Claire said grinning.

“That’s my lass. Yer strong, brave, and fearless and I love ye for it.” Jamie gave her a resounding smack on the lips that left her breathless.

They quickly dressed and departed the room laughing, smiling with their fingers intertwined.

**************

Jamie and Claire stepped outside of the comfort of their hotel into the bitter cold and biting winds. In spite of being warmly dressed, the frigid temperature threatened to seep its way into the very marrow of their bones.

The sidewalks were barely passable despite the best efforts of man, machine, and salt. Icy patches dotted the landscape causing the lovers to slip and slide along the walkways. Jamie’s hand reached out taking Claire’s elbow to steady her. They climbed over mounds of grey city snow that sported an occasional yellow streak.

After walking for twenty minutes, they reached Boston Common, each sporting red runny noses and equally red cheeks.

“I’m beginning to think yer first suggestion to stay in bed all day was a good idea,” Jamie said with a smirk on his face, the steam of his breath escaping with each word.

“Do you want to turn back?” A look of concern written all over her face.

“Nah, I was concerned about ye, Sassenach.”

Claire stopped dead in her tracks.  “Sassenach?! I know that word and it isn’t very nice.  Isn’t that something derogatory to call me?” Her amber eyes narrowed glaring at him with unnerving thoroughness.

“In truth, it depends on who and how they are saying it. The word sassenach really means Englishman or English lady. At worst, it means outlander. I have always called ye Sassenach in my mind.  Ye see I have always thought of ye as my English Lady. A woman of grace and refinement, a true Lady.”

With that, Jamie smiled placed his hand over his heart and made a courtly bow, “My Lady, I am at yer service.”

Giggling at the sight she decided to return the gesture.  Bowing her head and spreading the skirt of her jacket, Claire curtsied, “My Lord.”

Jamie popped up like a jack-in-the-box.

“Who told ye?” he demanded.

Claire looked quizzically at Jamie, “Who told me wot?”

“That I am a Laird.”

“You’re a wot???” she gasped.

“I am Laird Broch Tuarach of Lallybroch Estate.  My home. ‘Tis only an honorary title now, but it has been handed down in my family since the 18th century. Lallybroch is a working farm in the Highlands, ye ken.  My sister Jenny and her husband Ian run it. Their five children live there too. But, technically it is mine as I retain the title and will pass it on to my son someday.”

“Hmm, do I have to curtsy every time I see you, my Laird?” Claire asked with a coy smile.

Laughing to herself, she wondered how the OR staff would react if they had to curtsy every time he came to do a case.

“Nay, I think we can dispense with the formalities if ye please,” Jamie said with a chuckle.

“Good. It’s awfully hard to curtsy in the bloody snow.”

“May I offer ye my arm my Lady as we stroll about on this fine cold day...for the sake of yer safety of course. I wouldna want ye to slip and fall injuring yerself.” His blue eyes, as blue as the cold clear sky, crinkled with mirth as he extended his arm for her to take.

Bobbing her head, and lowering her eyelashes demurely she said, “It would be my pleasure, my Laird,” and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Claire suddenly wondered why this felt like such a familiar thing to do.

Jamie tucked her hand securely in place pulling his arm and her hand closer to his body. He began to speculate why it felt like he had done this more times than he could remember. It felt natural, more like an everyday occurrence for them to walk like this.

A strong wind blew up around them, coating Claire from head to foot in a sheath of powdery snow crystals. The hair that peaked out from under her cap glistened, lashes sparkled with the tiny flakes that clung to them, and her clothes were enrobed in glittering flakes. She took on an otherworldly aura.

His mouth opened as he watched the swirling dust of snow float around her.

She must be one of the faes. No, not just a fae, but Queen of the Fae. For only the Queen could be so beautiful.

He stood there envisioning her in the finery befitting a Queen. A circlet of silvery moonbeams would adorn her head accentuating her mass of curls. Her lithe form draped in a diaphanous gown made of diamond dust while her feet were encased in slippers made from starlight.

He wanted to fall on his knees in worship, beg her to take him to her Queendom. He would become her Knight of the Realm, her Champion. With dirk and sword, he would do battle shielding her from harm. He would slay dragons, protect her from evil sorcerers, and safeguard her from malevolent creatures. As darkness envelops the earth, he would sleep at her feet sheltering and guarding her against the dangers that lurk in the blackness of night. She had cast a spell on him and he was happy to be under her power.

He heard the tinkling of her laughter, much like a wind chime, light and gentle in the breeze. Her eyes crinkled with merriment as a small buffy-brown bird landed on her shoulder. It hopped along coming closer to her ear merrily chirping. Claire raised her hand and stroked the downy head of the little bird speaking softly to it. Her hand went to her pocket and returned with a bit of her toast from breakfast. She opened her hand and the warbler flew onto her hand seized the bread and took wing.

Jamie stood in awe of the scene unfolding before him. “Is a wild bird so tame for her?!” The scene repeated itself several more times with birds flitting along her arm, singing and trilling to her. Each was tenderly stroked, given a bit of bread, then flew off to join its fellows. Her hand went to her pocket pulling out the remainder of the toast wrapped in the serviette. She tore the bread into bits scattering it on the snow.  En masse a clan of the small birds gathered joyously chirping doing a demented dance around the bread, pecking at it.

Mary, Michael, and Bride, she is the Queen of the Fae!

Claire looked at him with a radiant smile.

For a split second, Jamie became irrationally afraid.

“How did ye do that, lass!? The birds, they seem so tame!”

“I don’t do anything, really. They just come. It’s been happening for a long time, ever since I was a little girl. It started not long after my parents died,” Claire said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Sassenach, do ye want to tell me about it if ye can?” Jamie asked cautiously knowing her parents' death is a painful and sensitive area for her.

There was a moment of hesitation, then taking a deep breath to steel herself for the memories.

“As I told you after my parents deaths my uncle Lamb became my guardian. He was writing a book on the meaning of birds in different cultures. While he sat writing in his study, I would play in the garden. One day, not long after my arrival, I was playing with my plushy dog when a bird, a sparrow, flew down next to me. Its head turned side-to-side watching me. Then it began to sing one of the sweetest songs I had ever heard. I held out my hand and it hopped on, chirping madly while wildly flapping its wings as if it were a leaf caught in a maelstrom.”

Claire’s eyes clouded and her lip quivered while struggling to maintain her composure as the childhood memories beset her.

“I began to pet the bird and it quieted under my touch. It began to sing again, but this time soft and low. For a moment, I thought I heard my mother’s voice singing the lullaby she sang to me at bedtime.”

She gave Jamie a sidelong glance to see if he thought she was deranged. He stood there calm, placid, face expressionless, giving no hint to his inner thoughts.

“I started to cry and the bird flew off. I got up and ran into to tell Lamb what happened. He picked me up, put me on his lap, and cuddled me to his chest. After he wiped my tears, he told me that ancient Egyptians believed that sparrows carried the souls of the dead to heaven. Perhaps this one came to tell me that my parents were in heaven with God and the angels and I shouldn’t worry.”

A single tear ran down her cheek.

“I was happy that Momma and Daddy were in heaven, but I really didn’t understand all of what he was talking about.  Later, as they continued to visit me, we talked about it again. Lamb told me that a Buddhist teacher he knew believed that a person in mourning is considered a very holy person. This holy state opens the mourner to experience things that are beyond the physical world and more receptive to the spiritual world. Lamb thought that was why I thought I heard my mother singing or my father’s laugh when the birds came. Grieving opened my heart to other possibilities.”

“Three months before you came,” she continued, “whenever I would walk Ginger in the park the birds would continue to visit. I began to hear another voice, a new one. It was deeper, rich, and very, very masculine. He would call my name, sometimes in passion and sometimes with love and laughter.” Giving him a quick sidelong look she finished her tale,  “I know now that it was your voice I heard.”

Jamie startled at this revelation. Was it truly his voice or could it be the other’s voice calling out to her from across the centuries? He wondered if she was ready to hear about the Fraser Legend. No, he thought not just yet. He disliked withholding something from her but now was definitely not the right time.

Beginning to fidget, she moved her foot in the snow gouging out a divot with the heel of her boot. She felt the heat rising up to color her cheeks. She was afraid to look at Jamie fearing that she would see he truly thought her insane.

Neither spoke for a time. The only sound around them was the wind soughing through the leafless branches.

“Claire, look at me.” Jamie placed his fingers under her chin forcing her head up to look at him. She kept her eyes closed not able to bear the disdain she would see in his eyes for her.

“Mo ghràdh, look at me, please. I believe you. I dinna understand it, but I believe you.”

“How can you believe me when it sounds crazy even to me? Really, Jamie! I have often wondered if this...” Claire waved her hand toward the birds eagerly consuming the bread, “was nothing more than the imaginings of a sad and lonely child who grew up to become a sad and lonely adult searching for her lost parents and her lost home. A woman who is so desperate that she convinces herself that some sparrows hold the souls of her dead parents. Christ, Jamie!”

He looked at her, her glass face giving away her sense of loss, loneliness, and pain. “Sassenach,” he spoke gently to her as if she were a frightened child, “I am an educated man but I am also a Highlander born and bred. I do ken there are many a thing that is beyond our understanding. There are many tales of the highlands that still canna be explained. Why not this?” His eyebrow lifted in an inquiry.

“Can ye explain what happened to Robert Gordon? The man was clinically dead after 30 minutes of resuscitation no heartbeat, no breathing. Then all of a sudden the man sits up and starts talking. He told us everything that happened in that room, everything we said and did. He said he saw his wife and bairns calling and greetin’ for him.  There was more for him to do he kent, so he decided to come back.”

“Yes, I remember.” Claire shuddered at the remembrance of the event. It still gave her chills to think about it.

“Can ye explain that? No, I dinna think so. There are things that are outside our ken. Why must ye explain yers? It just is. Dinna question it, especially when it makes ye happy to believe so.”

Her rational mind, the scientific part of her, rejected any possibility of this being true, but the little girl in her wanted, no needed to hold on to any chance that she might still have some connection to her family.

Claire’s eyes drifted down toward the snow.  The clan of sparrows left, all except three.  She sighed.  It was always the same, three of the warblers always remained, two males and one female.

The birds stood there cocking their heads from side-to-side regarding Claire and Jamie. The female and one of the males flew up alighting on Claire’s shoulder. The female came close rubbing her feathery head against Claire’s cheek, softly cheeping to her.  The male landed on her opposite shoulder gently pecked at her hair.

The more vocal male flew up landing on Jamie’s forearm giving him a level look. He began to chatter and chirp loudly hopping up his forearm with the determination of a sprinter moments away from the finish line.

His black birdy eye coldly glared while uttering piercing squawks of what seemed to be warning or admonition.  The feathery wings spread wide fluttering frantically. This was one very agitated bird.

“If we are going to believe these creatures possess the souls of my family, I think he is my father and these two are my mother and uncle,” Claire said with a small smile.

“Aye, I think yer right, Sassenach.”

Jamie reached up took hold of both of  Claire’s hands, linking them together.

“Sirs and Madam,” Jamie said with all solemnity, “I am James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, and I am deeply in love with yer daughter and niece. My intentions are honorable and I promise to see her safe, care for her and love her all the days of my life. I ask yer approval of our relationship.” He bowed his head in respect toward the feathery family.

In unison, their heads swiveled toward Claire questioning.

“I love him too. He fills my heart with love and joy. He takes away the emptiness. When I am with him it's as if the sun comes out on a cloudy day filling my life with light and warmth.”

The downy kinfolk flew around them coming to land on their joined hands singing sweet and mellow.

“I hope ye dinna mind, but I plan to kiss yer daughter.”

Their hands broke apart.  Jamie raised his hands up to cup Claire’s face, “Before yer family, I love ye, Claire Beauchamp across all time.”

“I love you too, always and forever,” she sighed into his mouth.

He leaned forward and tenderly pressed his lips to hers. A kiss filled with so much love, tenderness, and promise.

His eyes crinkled and a smile lit his mouth, “Aye, I must love ye Sassenach, ye have me talking to the birds too.”

The little bird family took flight soaring high above the lovers and disappeared into the sky knowing their daughter and niece was well loved.

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

Good evening all! I am so happy this is finally done and I think this is the best version of it.  I am rather pleased with it. As I said it is long. So I would suggestion getting some snacks, a glass of wine, a dram, or what ever is your preference.

As promised the Smut has arrived. Please, please please this is very NSFW. Not kidding.  If you find that Smut is not your thing, please don’t read it. 

There is a new character.  Her picture is above. She is important to the story at some point.

I want to thank my beta @curlsgetdemgurls for her help and input as well rewarding me with my 🔥🔥🔥🔥.

I hope you all like it. I welcome any suggestions, thoughts, comments on the story.  You all know where to find me. I am starting chapter 8. I don’t know when it will get done, but as soon as it is, I will post.

Thank you all for your support, coming by to read, leaving me your comments.  You are all so fabulous.  I am truly overwhelmed by it. Love to you all 😘😘😘.

I give you a long over due Chapter 7 of:

Edinburgh To Boston

Chapter 7

Will Ye Have Me?

Claire woke from a deep sleep disoriented. The light from the fireplace made a weak effort to chase the shadows from the room. Whatever light there was did little to alleviate her confusion. Claire scrubbed at her face and across her eyes as if this would help her regain her focus in the dimly lit room. Very slowly, her awareness began to reach her consciousness.  She squinted to read the digital clock on the bedside table that sleepily blinked 2:17 AM. That was a start. Now she knew what time it was. More importantly, she needed to know where she was.

With no answer forthcoming to where she was, Claire starting to take stock of herself hoping that this might joggle her memory giving her the insight she needed. Her mouth felt dry and a gummy film coated her teeth.  She raked her hands through the knotted tangled mess that was her hair. God, even her hair hurt. Claire tried to shift herself into a sitting position when she brushed her hand against something very heavy laying across her stomach. She leaned forward to have a closer look. There was a hand, a very large hand, lying across her abdomen. Claire froze. Her mouth opened in surprise. Her eyes wide taking in the sight in front of her.  Panic was creeping in through every part of her consciousness. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! What did I do? What happened yesterday?” Claire asked herself.  She was in bed with someone. But who? Her mind was foggy and her head throbbed.

Slowly, events came back to her.  There had been a plane trip that much she recalled. She remembered she was in Boston with... Jamie. Oh, God! Jamie. This is his arm. Jamie nestled closer to Claire. His soft exhalations tickling her neck.

What did we do? Did we? She ran her hands along the planes of her body and was both relieved and disappointed to see that she had fallen asleep fully dressed.  Was she relieved because they didn’t or was she disappointed because they didn’t?

The whisky! Yes, they both did have quite a lot to drink last night. It all came back to her.  Each of them had shared the most painful, most secret parts of their lives with each other. It had been cleansing, a relief to be able to say those things long buried never to be thought of let alone spoken of. Claire was glad that the person she had shared those memories with was Jamie. He did not pass judgment on her. Rather, he had just accepted her and was compassionate. Most of all did not pity her.

Claire sighed.  She hated to get up, but she needed to use the loo urgently. Getting some water to drink would also be heavenly. Her mouth felt like the Sahara.  Claire slowly wiggled her way out from under Jamie’s grasp without waking him. Immediately, she regretted moving away from him feeling the loss of his heat. The man was a virtual furnace. More so, she missed the feeling of security that came from being in his embrace. She felt safe with his arm around her. A feeling she could definitely get used to.

Taking one of the cashmere throws, Claire wrapped it around herself. The throw was a very poor substitute for Jamie’s warmth.

Quietly she padded to the loo. The bathroom, too, was magnificent. It was done in white Italian marble with rich veins of gray. Thick luxurious towels and facial clothes were artistically displayed on a heated towel rack.  Two terry cloth robes awaited their use. Needless to say, the floors were heated. Violet orchids decorated the countertop.

While Claire washed her hands after using the loo, she quickly took stock of herself.  Her hair was a wild mass of curls, mascara rings under her eyes, her face blotchy from crying, and wrinkled from sleep. She looked quite a mess if she did say so herself.

Claire brushed her teeth, undressed, and entered the shower. The rainforest shower head was set to random giving a realistic feeling of showering in the rain. It was exhilarating yet at the same time tranquil and peaceful. The steam from the shower perfumed the room with the scent of flowers and herbs from the shampoo and soap she was using. As she lathered her skin her mind drifted to her sleeping friend. Her hands slick with soap and wet from the shower slid over the curves of her body.  Claire wondered what it would feel like to have Jamie touch her. What would it be like to have those large skilled hands caress her skin, knead her breasts, feel his tongue swirl over her nipples? His hands, what if they drifted lower between her legs. What would it felt like? She began to shudder with the thought, with the need. Claire thought she could ride him all night long. She felt her color rise from her chest to her hairline.

“Oh get a grip Beauchamp, just do,” she scolded herself.  She rinsed herself off from head to toe, towel drying her hair.  Claire reached for her rose-colored silk nightgown slipping it on. Finally, Claire covered herself in one of the luxurious terry bathrobes. It was strange Claire thought, she did not remember packing this nightgown as it had thin straps, a floral lace bodice which swept around to the back.  Both the front and back of the nightgown plunged low.  It was completely inappropriate for a business trip.  She would have much preferred her cozy flannel pajamas instead.

Jamie was still asleep exactly where she had left him. Claire tiptoed over to the fireplace and watched the fluttering flames perform a mesmerizing dance.

Jamie woke and immediately missed Claire’s sleeping form next to him. The bed felt empty.  He chuckled to himself, “Already used to her sleeping next to ye, are ye?” He turned to look for her and spied her sitting on the wee loveseat watching the flames. Slowly and quietly he rose and walked to her. “Ye couldna sleep, Claire?” Jamie asked in a voice husky from sleep.  He placed his hands on her shoulders, bent over and kissed her gently on the temple. Her skin was still warm and damp from the shower. “Hmm, ye smell nice.”

Claire reached up took one of his hands brought it to her lips kissing his knuckles.

“I needed to use the loo. Unfortunately, I saw myself in the mirror and knew a shower was in order. I feel much better. Come sit with me, Jamie.” A taupe colored loveseat of buttery soft leather was situated in front of the fireplace.

Jamie lifted up the front of his shirt giving himself a sniff. “Phew. No’ just yet, Claire. Next to ye, I smell like a distillery. Give me a few moments so I can clean up aye?” Jamie turned and walked toward the bathroom.

“How do you know what a distillery smells like?”

“We have a small distillery on our farm. I worked in it during the summers, making money so I could go to Uni.”

Claire chuckled, “Is there anything that you haven’t done, Jamie?”

Jamie turned back to face Claire. He looked at her with a serious expression on his face, “I can think of several things that I havena did yet that I would verra much like to do, Claire, and they all involve ye.” Jamie strode purposefully into the bathroom.

Jamie closed the door and leaned against it, head falling backward resting against the door. He rolled his eyes up, shaking his head in disbelief. How did he come to say such a thing to Claire? Well, if nothing else, he was honest. He did want to do all manner of things to Claire.

The room was still warm and fragrant with the scent of her. It enveloped him, assaulting his senses. The room had the fecund scent of a garden. He pictured her standing in a garden lush with green things, herbs, and flowers. She was round and ripe with his child in her belly. He felt himself harden at the thought.

Shower. NOW.

He stripped off and got into the shower.  The shower was a lite rain alternating with a downpour.  What he needed was a pounding shower. Something that would help him regain his senses. This shower just made him want Claire more. Jamie wanted her in there with him. He wanted her hair to be plastered to her head, her face. He imagined the water trickling down over her breasts making her nipples pucker ready for him to suckle. Jamie fantasized about the water trickling down over her body in rivulets; his hands feeling the slick wetness of her body. He wanted to get on his knees open her and taste her causing her to squirm and gasp under his ministrations.  After she reached her peak, he would slam her into the wall, like the beast that he was, and take her in one swift move. He would take her hard, take her fast. There could be no gentleness about how he would take her, plunging his cock into her soft flesh over and over.  The rain washing over them, between them increasing the slickness of their bodies. Oh, and the sweet sounds she would make for him. He couldn’t ...he couldn’t ...he couldn’t … OH, GOD CLAIRE!!!

“Jamie, are you alright in there? You’ve been in there for quite a while.”

He thought the Americans had a word for it, it’s called it getting busted. “Aye, Claire I’m fine. Just enjoying the shower too much.  Be right out.”

Jamie toweled dry, put on the second terry robe, and came out.  He was flushed from more than the heat of the shower. Actually, he was rather shamefaced. Thank God the only light in the room came from the fireplace. At least he was calmer, his pent-up lust having been relieved.

Jamie walked over to the small refrigerator taking out two bottles of mineral water and went to sit next to Claire on the love seat.

He looked at the small loveseat and worried that it might not fit his large frame. If it did perhaps their combined weight would make the thing collapse.

“Who made this thing,” he wondered to himself, “Munchkins?”

Claire looked up at him expectantly.

“Weel, there’s nay help for it.” Jamie quietly muttered and sat down.

The love seat groaned under their combined weight but remained intact. It was a tight fit sitting next to each other with their thighs rubbing together from the limited space available.  Jamie felt his cock begin to twitch again, simply from the nearness to Claire.

“Will ye no’ stay down, man!?” Jamie thought. His cock twitched again in response to his admonition.

Jamie opened one bottle of water, handed it to Claire and opened the second bottle for himself. He quickly drained it down in one long gulp.

“You seem very thirsty, Jamie. Would you like mine too?”

“No thank ye lass, I am much restored,” he lied.

They sat there enjoying the peacefulness that surrounded them, each absorbed in his or her own thoughts.

Finally, Claire broke the silence. “Jamie,” she said as she turned to look at him, “What this is between us is different. I have never felt like this before.  I mean I don’t have a vast amount of experience with men, but I think this is unusual. Do you think so too?”

“Aye, lass. ‘Tis. I feel different somehow, happier.”  He looked at her and grinned. “I never felt like this before with a lass.”

Claire became quiet again, her lips drawn together in a tight line. “I need you to know that I am not good at sharing for reasons you are aware of.” Claire added hurriedly, “Before we go any further, I need to know if you are seeing any other women. I don’t want to be part of some harem of girlfriends. I couldn’t do it.” Claire bit her lip and nervously waited for his answer.

Jamie looked at her rather shocked. “Do ye think me a Casanova then Claire?”

“Jamie, there is no denying that you are a very handsome man.  I see how women react to you. For goodness’ sake, some outright ogle you. A man like you must have several girlfriends.  I really wouldn’t be surprised at all if you had a whole bevy of beauties lined up.” Claire’s breathing quickened all while her lip chewing becomes more exaggerated as her anxiety became more pronounced.

“Me?! Me?! Women ogle me? I have always thought myself rather grotesque and frightening to women, because of my size ye ken. Yer teasing me, lass,” Jamie narrow-eyed Claire in disbelief.

He really doesn’t see it! “No, Jamie I am not teasing you. Did you know that the nurses have a nickname for you?”

Jamie looked utterly bewildered. His brows drew together forming a line between them, “Go on with ye, they dinna. Do they? What do they call me?”

Claire looked at him narrowly, “The nurses call you Doctor McDreamy. You honestly didn’t know that?”

Jamie sat there with his mouth gaping. He rather looked like a goldfish with his mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

“And what about Laoghaire?” Claire asked in a carefully controlled tone.  “She is always following you around, visiting you in your office, and dressing in very sexy clothes for you.  Christ, the way she flaunts herself in front of you! Surely you have feelings for her?” Claire thought she sounded like a jealous old biddy, but she really couldn’t help it because the truth be told she was jealous.

“Claire, I dinna care about other women. For that matter, I dinna care about Laoghaire, never have and never will. She is naught but a lass in a woman’s body. I need a real woman, Claire. I need you. There is only ye, Claire, only ye,” Jamie said with a look of such sincerity on his face that there was only one thing Claire could do.

Claire leaned in closing the distance between the two of them and kissed Jamie tenderly. She moved to deepen the kiss when Jamie took her by the arms and broke the kiss.

“Fair’s fair’s, lass, are ye seeing anyone?”

“Well, I do have a roommate.” Claire jumped up hurrying to get her phone. “I have a picture. I’ll show you.” A wide grin broke out across her face as she brought the phone over to where they were sitting.  Claire shuffled through the pictures searching for it.

“Tis nay bother, lass,” Jamie said with a thickness in his throat. He really did not want to see who her roommate was.  All was lost, he thought.  This was her way of letting him down. How could he have been such a fool? A lass such as her must have many admirers.

Claire found the picture she was looking for and thrust the phone into Jamie’s hand.

Jamie looked down at the phone, looked back at Claire, and looked back at the phone.

“It’s a wee doggie,” Jamie said astounded. He looked at the picture in disbelief.

“Yes,” Claire said bursting with pride as she looked at the picture.

Jamie repeated himself, “It’s a dog.”

“Yes, it is. She is my best friend.” Claire bubbled enthusiastically. “Isn’t she just beautiful? My pretty girl. Her name is Ginger.” Claire took the phone back from Jamie cuddled it to her chest, cooing to the picture.

Claire began to prattle on about how she and the dog found each other, what they do, where they go for walkies, and on, and on, and on.

Jamie was not attending to what Claire was saying. Instead, he focused on her.

She seems so proud of the beast almost as if it were her bairn. Her face was alight with love and devotion for the pup.  She belonged to the dog and the dog belonged to her.

At that moment that Jamie really understood Claire Beauchamp.  Claire orphaned at a young age, lived an unorthodox and nomadic life with her archaeologist Uncle. Claire traveled the world, had adventures, and lived in tents. She did not have parents who would sing lullabies or tell bedtime stories to her. She did not have a home, siblings, family, playmates, school, schoolmates, friends, or any of the other human attachments that Jamie had and for that matter, had taken for granted his whole life. Claire probably never had a pet before. Even in her disastrous marriage to that bastard Randall, Claire had been alone. It was understandable how Claire and her uncle had fallen prey to Randall’s machinations. They were simply no match for his guile.

Jamie’s heart broke for his friend. He swore she would never be alone again or without human attachment along as he was alive. He would always care for her, no matter how, no matter where.  Jamie silently cried for his friend.

“Don’t you think so, Jamie?” Claire asked.

Jamie didn’t respond as he was lost in his thoughts.

“Jamie are you alright?  You seem distracted.”

“Aye, Claire, I was just doing a bit of woolgathering.” Jamie hesitated but needed an answer, “Claire, what I need to know is are ye seeing anyone? Ye know romantically?”  

Claire blushed, “No, there has been no one since Frank. Well, I have gone out on a few dates occasionally, but there haven’t been any serious relationships. It was usually just for dinner and then that was it.  I wasn’t interested in forming relationships after Frank.  Actually, I was put off men. I simply didn’t trust them enough to get involved.”

“Now ye think ye are willing to open yer heart, Claire? Maybe for me?” Jamie asked hope blooming in his heart.  “I need ye to be sure lass of yer feelings as I canna go back to being just friends if we do this.  I want us to be more.”

“Yes, Jamie I am.  I want you. I want us, and I want this.” Claire’s eyes glistened, shining with love for him.

Jamie took both her small fragile hands in his large ones placing them over his heart, “Claire, I want ye so much I can scarcely breathe.  Will ye have me?”

“Yes, Jamie, I’ll have you.” Claire raised a hand cupping Jamie’s cheek, smoothing away the lines of tension from his face.

Claire began to fumble with the knot of her robe. Jamie placed his hands over hers, stilling her hands.  He stood helping Claire to rise up as well.

“Let me do that, mo nighean donn. Let me unwrap ye like the gift ye are to me.”

Claire felt herself go weak in the knees. How does he know exactly the right words to say?

Jamie’s eyes darkened with growing lust. He knew he needed to control his desires. This was about Claire. Her wants. Her needs. He was here to serve her in the way she deserved. To be adored, to be worshiped, to be pleasured.  Jamie reached for the robe’s ties and slowly pulled them apart allowing the robe to fall open exposing only the merest hint of her. Reverently, Jamie pushed the robe off her shoulders, down her arms allowing it to fall to the floor.  Claire stood before him glowing in her rose-colored gown. Her nipples began to harden as they were now exposed to the cooler air of the room. They strained against the silky fabric of the nightgown making Jamie long to touch them, suckle them.

“Claire,” he groaned. His hand rose and slid inside the gown taking in the fullness of her breast. He felt her shudder against his touch. Jamie slid his fingers over each nipple in turn, rolling, stroking, flicking.

Claire’s breathing grew heavier as he caressed each breast. Her eyes closed, head fell back, lips parted moaning Jamie’s name softly.  Her belly tightened. There was a growing warmth and wetness between her thighs. Oh, how she wanted him.

“I mean to know ye, Claire, every part of ye. I want to know how ye feel, what ye smell like, and how ye taste.  I want to know all yer womanly secrets.”

“My God,” Claire thought. “Maizie was right. He did want to devour her.” A tremor rushed through her with that thought.

Jamie’s hands went to the thin straps of the nightgown and slid them off Claire’s shoulders letting the silk flutter down pooling around her feet. She was naked to him now. Bare.

Jamie took two steps back and gazed upon the beauty of Claire.  The light from the fireplace danced across her skin illuminating her porcelain skin. She glowed like a hundred suns filling the room with her radiance. Overcome by this vision before him, he let out a gasp and a single tear ran down his face. “Tu êtes plus belle que dix milliards couchers de soleil.”

Claire blushed furiously at this extravagant compliment. Still, Claire was unaccustomed to being naked before a man, particularly under such intense scrutiny. Suddenly, she became shy.  She moved to cover herself with her arms.

“Dinna cover yerself, Claire, yer sae beautiful and I wish to look at ye.”

Claire left her arms at her sides, holding her head up allowing herself to be admired.

“I want to see you too, Jamie.”  Claire walked forward taking the ties of his robe in her hands pulling them apart.  He was naked underneath the robe.  She pushed the robe over his shoulders and down his arms watching as it tumbled to the floor.

Claire stood back and took him in.  He was beautifully made, chiseled face with high cheekbones reminiscent of his Viking heritage. His body toned and hard muscled. The body of an athlete or warrior. There was nothing physically soft about him. His arousal was clearly evident. It was engorged, flushed, and ready. Claire wondered how it would feel as it rent her soft flesh, filling her completely. She wanted to touch him everywhere.

“I want to see your scars.”

Jamie opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it. He hung his head, closed his eyes, and nodded giving her permission to inspect his back.

Claire walked slowly to Jamie. She trailed her hand over his skin relishing the feeling of strength emanating from him. His back was a maze of scar tissue. The area of injury was extensive and unable to be totally covered in grafts. Skin expanders had been used to help close some of the wounds. Some were left to heal on their own. Claire traced the scars with featherlight touches caressing each one. She leaned in to press a kiss to each of the marks in turn just as a mother would do to soothe a child’s injury. Jamie trembled from Claire’s attentions.

Claire continued walking around him and returned to face him. Jamie’s face and eyes were averted from her. Her hand tenderly stroked his face feeling the rasp of his stubble. Still, he refused to meet her gaze.

“Do I sicken ye, lass? Do ye find me repulsive?” he spoke in a wavering voice as he looked into the distance fearing rejection from Claire.

“No, Jamie you don’t sicken or repulse me. I find you heartbreakingly beautiful.”

Jamie let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. His eyes swam with tears as he gazed upon his beloved. She was able to see beyond his deformity and see him for who he was.

Claire walked toward Jamie, wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her hips against his, trapping his hardened length against their bellies. She raised her eyes, the shade of perfectly aged sherry to meet his of cerulean blue, “Jamie, take me to bed, make love to me.”

Claire saw a visible change come over Jamie.  He looked positively feral. Jamie’s eyes glazed becoming black pools, black as a starless night sky. His red-gold hair, still damp from the shower, was a mass of curls that framed his face giving the appearance of a predatory cat stalking its prey. His muscles tense, hands clenched into fists, ready to pounce.

Claire kept her arms around Jamie’s neck as she ground her hips against his, needing to feel the heat of his length against her. His hands slowly stroked Claire’s back pulling her closer to him.

“I dreamt of this so often, Claire. Now, it’s real.”

“Yes, it is,” Claire said resting her head against his chest.

Jamie reached down lifted Claire up, her legs coming around his waist, and carried her to the bed. Gently, ever so gently, Jamie laid her down on the bed.

Jamie stood there taking in the goddess before him. He reveled in the lushness of her womanly body. Her hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo made of dark curls. Her skin was flushed pink from want and need. Jamie ran a finger over her lips, they were moist, soft, and red like rose petals, and they were begging to be kissed. Claire’s skin was the color of cream and soft as velvet. Jamie spied her breasts, the heavy globes that he desired, that he wanted to hold and feel their weight in his hands. She had delicate pink nipples that he longed to take in his mouth and suckle like a babe. Claire’s legs were slightly parted, but enough that he could see her want.

Jamie climbed into the bed and held his love in his arms.

“Mo ghràdh,” he whispered.

They spoke to each other through the language of the soul, from the voice of the heart and through the action of the body. In this joining of the trinity of soul, heart, and body, their souls would recognize its lost half, hear the voice of the heart calling, and unite through the body. And they would, at last, become one, become whole, become complete.

Gentle caresses, lightly stroking gave way to a bolder touching of face, arms, breast, and thighs. Always reaching toward the most intimate and sacred parts of their bodies striving toward connection, oneness.

Sweet sighs, throaty moans, words of love were carried away from their lips like a soft breeze floating through a meadow ruffling through the flowers.

Jamie rose over her nudging her legs further apart with his knee. He lay on top of her, balancing his weight on his arms. He kissed her eyes and the tip of her nose. Jamie came to concentrate on her mouth. Gently, he placed a kiss so soft, so tender on her lips as to make her weep. Holding her gaze, he lightly slid his tongue across her lips, softly, tenderly. Soon mouths, lips hungrily sought more. His tongue skimmed her trembling lips seeking entrance which she gladly gave. Their tongues battled for supremacy, swirling, thrusting, probing, tasting each other breaking apart only when they needed air.

Jamie slowly slid down Claire’s body, peppering her skin with warm wet kisses. His greedy hands found the full swell of her breasts. They were full, heavy, and ripe in his hand. He caressed each one paying homage to them equally. Her nipples were raised and firm. Jamie’s mouth took possession of each nipple in turn.

Claire cried out, “Jamie! Please!” She arched her back encouraging him to take more of her nipple into his mouth, suck harder. He bit down just enough to cause her to gasp.

Claire began to writhe beneath him. Her breathing became more ragged. Her belly was tight, and there was a throbbing deep inside of her that she needed satisfied. She was losing herself under his touch.

Jamie began to make his way down Claire’s body, leaving a trail of hot kisses, small nips, and bites along her chest and belly.  His smoldering eyes never left her face, watching her as her pleasure built.

Claire sucked in her breath after Jamie had nipped at a particularly sensitive area on her belly.  

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“A bit,” Claire replied.

“Do ye want me to stop?”

“N..N..Noooo,” Claire replied her voice shaking.

“Good,” he said his mouth forming a self-satisfied smirk.

Jamie reached his objet de désir, the apex of her femininity.  He let his large calloused fingers drift down feeling her wetness taking some of her moisture on his fingers.  He brought his fingers to his nose, “Eau de femme.” His tongue snaked out and ran across his fingers tasting her nectar. Jamie nuzzled his face into the cleft, inhaled her scent. “Parfum d'amour.”

His fingers opened her. His tongue found her pleasure nub and began to to circle, swirl around and over it. His fingers began to stroke her entrance. One finger entered her, then another. His fingers moving in time with his tongue.

“Christ, Claire, ye are so tight and so wet!” Jamie was driven into a deeper savage lust.

Ripples of pleasure ran through Claire; her body was set aflame. She cried out Jamie’s name begging, pleading for release followed by obscenities falling from her lips.

Claire moved relentlessly against his fingers and tongue desperately seeking more, seeking her release.

“Claire, dinna move, lass. Let me pleasure you.”

“I can’t help it, Jamie, I really can’t.” Claire whimpered.

Jamie brought his arms over Claire’s legs grasping onto to her hips, pinning them down against the bed to still her movements, hoping to prolong her pleasure.

The restraint drove Claire to near madness from the sensations. Claire fisted the sheets in her hands, gathering them, twisting them. Held down by his arms and the weight of his body, Claire realized she was helpless against him. She was his prisoner.  Prisoner to his lust. His want. His need. His love for her. And truth be told, she was held captive by her own lust and love for him.

Claire’s hands moved down grabbing Jamie’s hair urging him on. His hair was soft and silky under her fingers. Jamie redoubled his efforts.  His tongue flicked across her sensitive tissue, and his tongue entered her tasting her.

“Christ, Claire, yer honeypot is sae sweet. Yer driving me mad, woman.”

Claire moaned and whimpered. She was close and she knew it.

His eyes, a dark steely blue, was absorbed in watching her come apart from his ministrations.

“Claire, let it go. I want to watch you fall apart. Come for me, lass.”

Claire arched her back and cried out a keening sound deep from the recesses of her soul as she reached her zenith. Her body shook, trembled in the aftermath of her release.

Jamie climbed up and next to Claire holding her to his chest. He murmured sweet words in the Gàidhlig to soothe her.

As Claire’s breathing came under control, she developed a wicked look in her eyes.

Flipping Jamie on to his back she said, “You think this is over, do you? Well, guess again.”

She swung a leg over his groin and began rubbing herself along his length.

“Claire, what the devil do ye think yer doing?” Jamie looked startled by Claire’s sudden dominance.

“Don’t you like that, Fraser? Just think how it will feel when you're inside of me.”

Jamie moaned.

She leaned forward taking his mouth tasting herself on his lips. Claire found this to be arousing knowing that her essence anointed his lips, mouth, tongue, and face.  Now, her lips would hold the promise of waves of pleasure yet to come for Jamie.

“Fair’s, fair’s my love. It’s my turn.”

“But, Claire, that was for you. It was about you, giving you pleasure.”

Claire gave him a puzzled look, “And you think this won’t?”

Claire bent to her work.  She took hold of Jamie’s ear, nibbling, licking it. Her tongue followed the length of his muscular neck sucking, biting at the sensitive skin. Jamie moaned his hands holding on to her hips, He pushed her hips down hard against him grinding against her.

Claire bent and took his nipple between her teeth, biting. Jamie groaned.

“A little pain enhances the pleasure, don’t you think?” Claire gave him a salacious smile.

Jamie looked up at Claire. Her amber eyes were alight, glowing with lust. He didn’t know who this bean an deamhan was. But, he was glad she was his.

Claire continued on her quest, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites down his body. When she reached her heart’s desire, she pressed a loving kiss to his shaft.

“Claire! Ye canna mean to do…”

“And why not?” Claire looked at him curiously.

“Because!”

“Well, that is a very poor answer.”  In one swift move, Claire’s mouth engulfed him. There was a tangy taste to him and a strong male scent around him something that could only be described as uniquely Jamie.

“Claire, wait, stop….No! Wait, ye canna...Oh! God!  Dinna stop, please, dinna stop. Ahh. Oh, Claire!”

Her tongue ran along the length of his shaft and swirled at the head stoking a fire deep in the pit of his belly. She lightly ran her teeth over the shaft increasing the sensations.

“God, Claire.” His hands rested in her hair, caressing, pulling.

She changed her plan of attack. Her small hand encircled his hardened length, slowly stroking up with a bit of a twisting motion. She used her tongue and lips to tortuously lick and suck the tip.

A deep throaty growl issued from Jamie as he watched Claire love him. His hands clenched so hard his knuckles and fingers were white. His muscles tensed and rippled as he came perilously close to edge of no return.

“Claire,” Jamie hissed, “Ah need ye, lass. Ah needta be inside of ye, now.”

Claire looked up from her attentions, her eyes sparkling. “You want me, Jamie?”

“Aye,” he said through gritted teeth. “Ah needta feel ye on ma cock.” His Scots was getting broader.

Claire swung her leg over his hips. Taking him in her hand and gently rubbing his cock against her entrance giving him a seductive look.  “Is this where you want to be?”

“Damn ye woman, damn yer teasing. Ye wicked wee vixon. Ye ken what ah mean. Claire, please!”

Claire smiled at him as she impaled herself on him. She felt herself stretch to accommodate his length and girth. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect O.

Her hands braced on his chest and Claire began to rock. Jamie’s hips thrust up in time with each of Claire’s movements. He gripped her hips pressing them down grinding against her. He pressed so hard that he knew he would leave bruises. He didn’t care.

“Yer mine, now and forever, Claire. Whether ye will it or no, yer mine.”

“Yours,” Claire gasped.

In one swift move, Jamie grabbed Claire turning her on to her back and continued driving his hips home. Claire wrapped her legs around his hips encouraging him to go deeper.

“Harder,” she whispered. Jamie needed no further encouragement thrusting deeper and harder reaching the of her the tip of her womb.

Moans. Guttural cries. Whimpers. Begging. Cursing.

The tension built in their bodies asking for release. Shock waves of pleasure erupted over them as they reach the pinnacle of their completion in each other.

They collapsed into each other’s arms, sweaty, spent, sated, and so in love.

Tu êtes plus belle que dix milliards couchers de soleil.  -- You are more beautiful than a billion sunsets.

Eau de femme -- Scent of a woman. Taken from the Firey Cross the windowsill love scene

Parfum d'amour -- Perfume of love. Taken from the Firey Cross the windowsill scene.

Bean an deamhan -- Demon Woman

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

Edinburgh To Boston

Hello, I’m back again giving this another try at writing a fanfic. As you can guess this precedes my first fic A Call from the Mayor. Basically, this is about how Jamie and Claire finally realized that they were in love. This will be a multichapter story.

I need to thank two very special writers, @jmoonrise and @curlsgetdemgurls for their encouragement and beta.

I hope you like it.

I give you:

Edinburgh to Boston

Prologue

We all have a destiny.  Some of us are destined to be lawyers, doctors, nurses, politicians, superstar athletes, movie stars, spouses, parents, or lovers.

How do we achieve our Destiny? Some philosophers are of the belief that our destiny is preordained even before we are born. One's Destiny, if you subscribe to this belief, is written in the stars.

Other thinkers espouse the concept that we arrive at our Destiny through our own behaviors. We are the makers of our own Destiny. What we do, or say, or don't do or say will influence the outcome of our Destiny.

But what happens when we ignore the call of our Destiny and walk right by it?

That my friend is when Fate can step in. Fate presents us with the necessary opportunities to attain our Destiny. Fate may lend a hand to the matter to goose things along as it were. Particularly when your Destiny is staring you right in the face and you are too blind or too afraid to see it.

This is the story of two would be lovers, one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and one James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who have been and are destined to come together. They are soul mates, destined to become one with each other. But because they have allowed their fears to guide them, they have remained in the dreaded relationship called - friends.

That is until Fate steps in to give these two eejits a swift kick in the arse.

*********************************

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter One - The Airport

"Well, it's about time, Fraser!" Dr. Claire Beauchamp huffed making no effort to hide her annoyance. "If you were any later, you would have missed the flight."

"Aye, aye Beauchamp, I ken," apologized Dr. James Fraser. "There was more traffic heading to the airport which delayed me."

He looked remarkably put together for a man in a suit and overcoat and remarkably not in the least bit breathless despite sprinting through Edinburgh airport with his luggage and that damn oversized messenger bag that he always carried.

"Besides Beauchamp, when have I ever let ye down?"

Claire glared at her colleague, friend, her surgical partner, "Humph, I thought this was going to be...Rome all over again."

James’ face turned a bright red, his normally placid sky blue eyes darkened, narrowing to slits emphasizing their cat-like shape.

"Dinna bring up the Rome trip. Ye ken fine well that I had a skiing accident a few days before we were to leave."

Oh, Claire did ken alright.  The weekend before our trip to Rome for a Cardiothoracic surgery conference was the annual ski trip that several of the surgical attendings went on. That year they went to Glencoe Mountain. Among those going were Angus Moor, MD, general surgery, Ian Ross, MD, ENT, Rupert Mackenzie, MD, orthopedic surgery, Iona Baird, MD, vascular surgery and last but most certainly not least Laoghaire Mackenzie, MD, plastic surgery who wanted to sink her manicured claws into my partner.

She with a face so smooth and so frozen as to be expressionless when she spoke. Claire wondered how her mouth moved. Did she give herself her own Botox injections? If she stopped would her face fall down?  Be nice Beauchamp, she thought.

"What was it you broke, your leg was it?" she asked sweetly.

James flushed hotly. "Ye ken it wasna my leg."

"It was my arse" he mumbled.

"I beg your pardon. I didn't quite hear you."

"I broke my arse. The coccyx bone. It hurt like the devil. I couldna sit, spent most of my time on my belly or using the doughnut to sit on. Are ye satisfied now?" He was blushing furiously from his neck right up to his hairline. His ears must have been burning as they were bright red. "Rupert offered to fix it. I told him it would be a cold day in hell before I let him near my arse."

Claire turned around to stare at his injured arse lifting up the skirt of his suit jacket. It looked the same to her. In fact, it looks fine, very fine indeed. What I wouldn't give to just... Did I just think that?

"Dinna be staring at my arse, Beauchamp." He brusquely swatted my hand away from his jacket. "It hasna changed at all!"

An elderly couple sitting in the same waiting area were busy watching this exchange with a smirk on their faces trying very hard not to laugh.

"Have a care Beauchamp, do ye no realize we are in public and people are watching?" A second later, "If ye wanna look do it in private," James murmured so softly as to be almost unintelligible, but Claire heard him.

"Pardon? I didn't get what you last said."

"Nuthin'."

"Just consider it professional curiosity, Fraser, is all." Claire snorted letting out with another loud guffaw.

"And did Laoghaire apply ice packs to your bum for you?" By now Claire was roaring with laughter. Tears were rolling down her face, her sides ached, and she could not get her breath.

Dr. James 'my body is a temple'  Fraser, who never ate anything unhealthy, worked out daily, took the stairs instead of the elevator, all-around athlete and horseman, broke his arse skiing. It was just too much.  Claire managed to catch her breath long enough to ask him how he had sustained such an ignoble injury.

James, a true born Scot, loved to tell stories. He entertained everyone from patients to nursing staff, to the office staff with stories from the Highlands. Stories of selkies, faeries, water horses, magic stones were told and told often to the delight of everyone. Now, despite the fact that he was telling a very embarrassing personal story, he settled into his storytelling mode.

"The lads and I had a wee bit too much to drink with lunch, ye see."

She could see.  Whisky was James' only vice and he could easily have had one too many at lunch.

"So, since I was the best skier in the group, the lads challenged me to ski the Flypaper. Do ye ken the Flypaper, Beauchamp?"

She shook her head no.

"Hum, weel the Flypaper is considered the steepest slope in all Scotland. Some say maybe it is the steepest in all Europe. It is considered a black run, for experts only. So I took the challenge." He shrugged.

"After having too much to drink, you decided it was a wise choice to ski down this black slope thing? Fraser, what were thinking?" By now Claire wasn't laughing anymore, she looked at him as if he was desperately in need of a brain transplant. Heart transplants she could do, brain transplants, no.

"Obviously, Beauchamp, no much,” James said wryly. “The slope is quite steep maybe 40 to 45 degrees, ye ken. So there I am in my tuck, sliding, gliding along, feeling so free.”

“You mean drunk, don’t you Fraser?” 

James glared at her.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, my skis hit a rock outcrop that was buried under the snow and I went sailing so high, I felt like a bird. I could see everything and everyone around me. It was beautiful. Until I landed on my arse and bounced down the slope for a while before I came to a stop.” 

James stopped momentarily in the telling of his story to look at Claire giving her a rather sheepish grin. Claire’s eyes began to crinkle with mirth all while biting her lower lip in an attempt not to laugh.

“I didna feel anything at first having been properly medicated, so I finished the run. By the time I got to my room, it was quite a different story. My arse hurt sae bad, I couldna walk, sit or do much of anything else. Rupert said I had broken my coccyx and there was naught to do about it except rest, ice it, and take some non-steroidal pain meds.  I told ye that Rupert jokingly offered to fix it, but I declined."

Claire began to laugh again, imagining him flying in the air, then landing on his bum bouncing his way down the ski slope.  Her sides were hurting, it was hard to catch her breath, and tears were rolling down her face. She felt like she couldn't stand anymore, so she did the next best thing and leaned into James’ chest.

I looked up into his clear blue eyes, now shining bright with laughter. His lip was curled up into his trademark half smile. Slowly, his arms came round to hold me.

"'Tis funny now, I'll tell ye, but it wasna then. Ye were right about Laoghaire. Laoghaire did offer to bring the ice, but I said nay. Rupert got it for me. For my troubles the lads bought me a bottle of Glenfiddich 30-year-old single malt whisky. Havena opened it yet. Ye like to take a dram or two do ye no, Claire?"

Her breathing began to ease and she suddenly became aware that she was in James’ embrace. His blue eyes were intent on her. His head lowered and he looked like he wanted to kiss her and kiss her for all she was worth. Quickly, Claire took two steps back breaking the embrace.

"Well, Fraser, I hope you learned your lesson," she said rather sternly, "not only did you break your arse, but you broke your word to your partner. Rather bad form don't you think?."

"Aye, Beauchamp, I did and it was. You have my deepest apology for my poor judgment and behavior. I left ye stranded and that was wrong of me. I am yer partner, yer friend, and ye should be able to count on me. I promise ye it will never happen again. I dinna make idle promises Beauchamp. Ye have my word.” 

He looked at me rather strangely just then. There was the distinct feeling that I was looking at a Highlander, a warrior making his vow of fealty to his laird or perhaps to his lady. His piercing blue eyes stared straight into my soul. All the hairs along the nape of my neck and on my arms stood up. My heart began to beat faster.  How odd.

The old woman sitting on the hard plastic chair nudged her husband in the side with her elbow, "Ye see Harry, I told ye. They're in love.  They just dinna ken it yet." She softly chortled.  Her husband smiled lovingly at her, brought her aged work-worn hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly.  He nodded in agreement, "Just as I love ye mo ghràdh."

Flight 9838 Edinburgh to Boston Logan International Airport now boarding at Gate 43. Please have yer boarding passes ready.

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

43 years ago I married my best friend.  He has the other piece of my heart and soul.  He makes me complete as I do him. 43 years is a long time.  There were good times, hard times, and your average ordinary times. Throughout it all, we have grown together, stayed together, and loved each other sometimes tenderly, sometimes fiercely. But always together.  

He put me through school 4 times.  Putting up with crazy schedules, testing, anxiety, stress, rotten meals, ruined plans and did so with grace and patience. Well, most of the time he was patient. I can’t fault him for grumbling occasionally.

We looked at our wedding pictures today. I commented on how young we were. My husband is still a handsome man and I told him so. He, of course, laughed and thinks I am biased, which of course I am. I wondered how he felt about being married to an auld woman. He looked at me incredulously and told me I am more beautiful today than when he married me and he loves me more now than he did then. And what’s more, he means it. He thinks I am a witch as I must have bewitched/enchanted him. He doesn’t really care as he is happy under my spell (sound familiar?).  I told him he was just in love.

I don’t want to make him sound like a saint which he most assuredly is not.  He is stubborn, opinionated,  bloody-minded, irritating, and stubborn (did I say that before...well, I saying it again because he is). On the other hand, he is sweet, kind, thoughtful, generous, honest, truthful, and (here is that word again) honorable.

There is one thing I would like to know. What in God’s name did I do to deserve such a man?  How did I get so lucky? I’ll never know, but I sure am grateful for him. 

This is my love letter to him that he will never see. He doesn’t need to. He knows it.

Thank you for my anniversary fic @curlsgetdemgurls. I cried because it was so lovely, sweet, and I just loved it. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Hugs.