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eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 5 years ago

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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.

#edinburgh to boston #chapter 9 #snow day #bacon and eggs #oatmeal #sassenach #boston common #queen of the fae #sparrows #laird broch tuarach #it's cold outside #thanks to my beta #curlsgetsdemgurls #Here Goes Nothing #I always freak out when I post something

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tamiletrange · 7 years ago

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My dream man would be the perfect mixture of this fictional characters...

Rick O'Connell from The Mummy

Lord John Roxton from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Lost World

Jamie Fraser from Outlander

And last but not least, Bog King from Strange Magic

@artgirllullaby, @endorathewitchwriter, @frommylips, @levele3, @coxinhas-aladas, @forythetilly, @instantlysassytastemaker, @magically-strange and @dainesanddaffodils

What about you guys?

Answer and tag as much friends as you want ;)

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highlnderbrn · 3 years ago

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@leighiche wrote : ❛ I don’t know how to fall asleep anymore.❜ ( give me clingy newlyweds or give me death ) .

Her hand is taken to his lips, his orbs are staring at the pair of amber and he can’t help but smile at the words his wife utters. He is aware there’s no much time left and auld Alec will be in need of him at the stables, after all... newlywed or not, there was no way the man would allow Jamie to spend the whole day in bed with his with, as much as he desired to do so. ❝ Aye.❞ he leaves her hand aside, moving farward to press his lips against hers. ❝ Ye ken, I’d no leave yer bed if I dinna have to, Sassenach.❞ brushing a few curls out of her face, his fingers trail a line down her neck, as if caressing the white pearl skin underneath the sheets.

#leighiche #⠀⚜ : a man of worth ❪ ic.#⠀⚜ : I. LAIRD BROCH TUARACH. ❪ one.#nsfw-ish //#?#giving u clingy newlyweds.

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heart-taking-root-in-your-body · 3 years ago

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𝙾𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚎, 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝙸𝚝𝚢𝚜 (𝟷𝟾𝟾𝟷)

#outlander #jamie fraser #james fraser #sam heughan #james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser #Laird broch tuarach #Red Jamie #outlander season 2 #vengeance is mine #gingers #scottish

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jemscorner · 6 years ago

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 A laird takes leave of his lady 

#outlander #outlanderedit #perioddramaedit #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #outlander 2.10 #Prestonpans #that bow!#and her face!#and his little smile!#Laird and Lady Broch Tuarach #my edits #my gifs

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jexsuisxprest · 5 years ago

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A Queen and a Scotsman | Elsa and Jamie | closed

@wintersovereign

It had been a few months since the last party was held by the Duke of Sandringham. Jamie had obliged, what with his new title of Laird of Broch Tuarach, and ran into some familiar faces as well as new. This one particular new face, a beautiful woman with stark white hair and captivating blue eyes, had been on Jamie’s mind ever since the party, yet had no idea who she was. He only knew her name, Elsa. Any other information that could have been said to him during their time together was lost over time...and due to being way too drunk to recall much else of that night.

Though at the moment, instead of thinking of the white haired beauty, he was sitting at the head of the table with his sister and brother-in-law eating a hearty breakfast and discussing everyday things in the home, when Jamie’s nephew came running in with news.

“There’s a carriage outside the house! Uncle, it seems as though they’re important. It’s like guards are surroundin’ the whole thing!”

With a furrowed brow, Jamie shot up from his seat and looked out a nearby window to see that his nephew was right. A carriage, large in stature, had quite a number of guards all around it. When the door to the carriage was opened, Jamie noticed the woman stepping out of it had white hair and the same piercing blue eyes he’d been missing for four months.

“Elsa...” He spoke fondly, though it suddenly hit him that she had found him. How? “Jenny, have the staff clean up wha’ they can as quickly as possible. We’ve got company...”

#wintersovereign #† v: laird of broch tuarach †#// hope this is okay love!

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aye-sassenachh · 3 years ago

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I said to him, “... you'll have to answer to laird Broch Tuarach”. That’s me.

Yes, I know.

#jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #outlander #outlanderedit #gif #claire x jamie #perioddramaedit

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years ago

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Sins of the Flesh: Chapter 1

Prologue

Read on AO3

Edinburgh, 1850

Jamie rolled his eyes as he left the print shop, trying to drown out Geordie’s droning voice, still audible even after he shut the door. He straightened his cap and adjusted his hand on the leather bag he had strapped over his shoulder. He could have laughed; if his sister knew she’d sent him away from the farm for a printing apprenticeship only to begin distributing seditious pamphlets on the side, she’d smack him silly.

A hundred years had gone by since the rising that his great-grandfather was killed in, and still he wouldn’t rest until the English were out of his country, never to set foot on his land again. He’d be Laird Broch Tuarach if not for the massacre of Culloden. And instead he was working a printing press, miles from home, while his sister and her crippled husband fended for themselves.

The anger in his heart would not soon fade, if ever.

His first stop was the baker, then the bookshop, then the butcher. All loyal readers of anti-English sentiment. He passed the pamphlets over folded in books, hidden under blankets in baskets that he’d ask to be filled with bread or meat. Jamie’s slight of hand had gotten better and better over the years. He made jovial, coded conversation while others went about their day, blissfully unaware.

It all gave him a strange thrill.

The apothecary was next on his list of traitors. He tipped his hat at the smitten lasses that waved at him, winked at wee laddies darting through the streets. He pushed the door open and the bell jingled. There was a woman standing at the counter in a striking, deep emerald green dress, pagoda sleeves revealing black gloves, neckline all the way up to her hairline, where a bonnet began. Hanging off her left wrist was a black parasol, matching her gloves. This woman could not possibly have been native to Edinburgh, or perhaps to Scotland at all. She was speaking quietly to the man behind the counter, a basket in front of her that she intended to have filled. Upon hearing her voice, he was made even more certain that she was an outlander. She spoke like a Sassenach.

“Ah! Mister Fraser!” The man waved jovially. “I’ll be with you shortly. Allow me to fill the lady’s order.” He gave a bow of his head to the woman, and she curtsied softly.

He could see not an inch of her skin, at least not from behind, but there was something elegant in the way she carried herself.

“Thank you, Sir.”

God, her voice was like honey.

Her head turned, and Jamie fought the urge to stare. A black veil was attached to the front of her bonnet, covering her face. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and was immediately struck by her eyes. They were honey as well, literally, in color. And they seemed to glow, shining through the black lace as if it was not there.

“Mistress.” Jamie bowed deeply, removing his hat. He stared at his feet for several seconds, his heart pounding.

Christ, she was beautiful.

Even through the veil he could tell. She was sculpted like fine china, a delicate brow over those haunting, enchanted eyes, lips full and pink. He peered up hesitantly, and the woman curtsied in return.

“Does something ail you?”

Jamie blinked up at her, still in his ridiculous bow. “Pardon?”

“Are you ill? Or hurt? Or someone you know?”

Jamie stood up, nearly dropping his basket of bread and meat.

“Oh. Oh, aye.” He’d nearly lost his head for a moment, completely forgetting what shop they were in. “My stomach ails me at times.”

“It’s recurring?”

“Um, aye. Sometimes.”

“Have you come for peppermint tea?”

“Ehm...I wasna sure what I’d come for, to be candid.”

“You’ve had no relief from this pain at all?”

“Nah. Come fer it today.”

“I see. Well you should ask for peppermint tea.” She nodded curtly. “If it’s a flatulence issue that could help. But if it’s anything more serious I’d need to examine you.”

Jamie’s throat ran dry, and he felt his eyes bug out of his head. “Pardon me?”

The woman actually laughed, rather giggled at him. An enchanting sound. “Forgive me,” she said, still laughing. “I failed to introduce myself. I am Lady Grey.”

Jamie’s heart sank. She was someone’s Lady, and he had no right for that to disappoint him. He was likely more than far beneath her station at any rate. She seemed far too fine for this tiny shop, for all of Edinburgh.

“James Fraser.” He bowed his head. “Pleasure to meet you, My Lady.”

“The pleasure is mine, Sir. In any case, I’m a healer. I can help you if you need it. Is your pain ever accompanied with fever?”

“Uh, no,” he said quickly. It would soon become very difficult to keep inventing symptoms if she continued this line of questioning.

“Any lumps or swelling in the abdomen?”

“No.”

“Is it sharp or dull?”

“Rather, ehm, dull.”

“Alright. Likely just flatulence, then.”

The shop owner returned then with a small bundle that he placed in the Lady’s basket. She pulled a coin purse from her skirts and paid the man. It was then that it occurred to Jamie that perhaps she was no one’s Lady at all. The black, the gloves, the veil…

“Are ye in mourning, Mistress?”

She dropped the coin in the shop owner’s hand and looked at him sharply.

“If I was?”

“My apologies,” Jamie stammered. “That was beastly rude of me, My Lady. Please forgive me.”

“Why do you want to know, Mister Fraser? What would you say if I told you I was?”

Jamie gulped painfully. “I’d...I’d offer my condolences. Most heartfelt,” he said. “And I’d pray for peace to your weary heart.”

Her face changed imperceptibly, one delicate brow arching. “Anything else?”

He blinked dumbly, his mouth agape before he had the sense to snap it shut. Was she...provoking him? Inviting him?

“I...I’m not sure I understand, My Lady.”

She let out another giggle, this one sounding more like a hum. “Such a funny boy.”

He had no idea why those words felt like a blow to the gut, substantiating the stomach pains he’d just falsified. How old could she have been, smooth as porcelain, to think him none but a silly lad?

And yet, he could not disagree with her. He was acting like an utter moron, had been since he’d laid eyes on her.

It was as if the damnable woman had put a spell on him.

She lifted her basket and turned away from the counter, thanking the shopkeeper. “Remember, peppermint tea.”

“Aye, My Lady. Thank you.”

“Where do you live? I’d like to check on you next week, make sure it’s working. If it doesn’t, you likely have bigger problems.”

“Ehm…”

“Out with it, please, I have other patients.”

“The print shop,” he stammered, almost against his own will.

“Good. Next Tuesday?”

“A-aye, Mistress.”

She brushed past him, and he caught a whiff of something herbal, earthy, floral, and intoxicating as she did.

“And you’ll do well to separate your raw meats and cooked bread,” she said, a hint of scolding in her voice as she eyed his basket with nothing short of disgust. “That may even very well be what has you ill.”

“Aye, Mistress.”

“Good day, Mister Fraser.”

“G’day.”

And with a jingle of a bell and the snap of her black parasol, she was gone.

Jamie blinked in utter bewilderment; he’d never accidentally become somebody’s patient before.

The shopkeeper chuckled, and Jamie snapped out of his reverie, having followed her down the street with his eyes.

“Smitten wi’ the elusive Lady Grey, are ye, laddie?”

Jamie chose not to answer, placing his basket on the counter.

“She’s been here before?”

“Only once, last week,” the shopkeeper explained, taking the basket behind the counter and effortlessly slipping the seditious pamphlet out from under the goods and into the sleeve of his coat. “Seems to me she’s just arrived and will be here at least once a week to replenish supplies for her patients.” He rolled his eyes at the word.

“What? Ye doubt her abilities?”

“She told me she studied healing in the East,” he said. “Sounds like hokum to me.”

Jamie said nothing.

“If yer next question relates to her husband, I canna answer.” The man shrugged. “She was dressed near the same last week. She speaks o’ him as if he lives, but dresses as if he doesna.”

Jamie nodded. “None o’ my business anyway.”

The man snorted. “No, it isna. A farmboy wi’ ink on his face has no business ogling after a gem like that.”

Jamie felt himself flush head to toe, swiping at his face stupidly, not at all sure where said ink was on his face. The man laughed, not cruelly, and leaned over the counter to slap Jamie on the back.

“Dinna fash, laddie. Every man’s got to make a fool of himself to a lass at some point.”

“Aye,” Jamie cleared his throat. “I suppose.”

And yet, that night, Jamie’s dreams were filled with images of honey eyes and a honeyed tongue.

In the shop, he’d seen stray, wild curls poking out of her bonnet, and in his dreams she removed the bonnet, tossing it away so he could at last see her free of the veil, and wild, untamed curls cascaded past her shoulders. He ran his hands through it, and imagined that was what running his fingers through a heavenly cloud would feel like. She unbuttoned the unreasonably high collar next, and her creamy neck exposed itself to him inch by inch. He wanted to touch her, wanted to touch her everywhere, but her eyes kept him locked in place. They were glowing like candles, burning him below the belt. She slowly peeled off her gloves and tossed them over her shoulder.

Just when her gown lowered to show the swell of her beautiful breast, he awoke.

He was covered in a thick sheen of sweat, and he was hard as a rock.

Damn his dreams for giving him enough to rouse him, yet not enough to finish the job.

Or perhaps damn her. It was almost as if she’d entered his mind and forced those visions on him. The spell her eyes cast on him in the dream felt too real to be entirely dreamt.

He abused himself to the thought of her scolding him in the print shop, the thought of tasting her beautiful lips, the thought of seeing beyond the swell of her breasts, seeing beyond the wide skirt she wore. He’d seen women in states of undress before, but never had they roused him as much as the mere thought of Lady Grey as such.

As he spilled his seed onto his own stomach, he felt shame burn him to his very core.

She could still very well be married to a living man.

But had she not tried to provoke him? Get him to say more about her potential widowhood?

Needless to say, Jamie’s stomach was tied in knots over the inevitable arrival of Lady Grey to his home next Tuesday.

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everybodyelsedying · 8 years ago

Note

"You're mine!"

“I’m married to your uncle, Jamie. What do you think will happen if anyone finds out about this? You can’t get jealous like this.”

#i don't even know but here lol #laird-broch-tuarach

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tgarnsl · 2 years ago

Text

Outlander and The Flight of the Heron: Parallels

[warnings for spoilers, as well as reference to sexual assault]

It should come as no surprise to anyone who is vaguely familiar with both Outlander and The Flight of the Heron that there are parallels between the two series. The author of Outlander has apparently read Flight (at least according to one source I came across on the internet) and although she credits her inspiration for Jamie Fraser to Jamie McCrimmon from Doctor Who, I find the similarities between Ewen Cameron and Jamie Fraser noteable. This is not to say that Diana Gabaldon lifted characters wholesale — Outlander, though arguably in parts derivative, has a fairly unique story in terms of its plot device of time travel, and while I personally have some issues with the series I nonetheless appreciate that its unique take on historical romance. With that in mind, however, I would like to lay out a number of similarities I have found between the two main characters in The Flight of the Heron and Outlander, though I would stress that these are only things I have noticed, and that there’s a greater argument to be made that Flight itself conforms to established tropes about the 1745 Uprising. I should also state that I do not have the Outlander series to hand, and although I have, when possible, consulted with the books in addition to the television series, I cannot verify specific page numbers.

Note as well that I use the term ‘Hanoverian’ rather than ‘British’ when talking about the British Army at the time — the Jacobite Rising was not, as is sometimes portrayed, about Scotland vs England, but was in many respects a revolution more in line with the Glorious Revolution of 1689, and therefore the Jacobite Army was, in a sense, the British Army, as Prince Charles Edward Stuart was considered by Jacobites as the proper Prince of Wales and heir to the British crown.

Ewen Cameron:

Born 1719, aged 26 in 1745

Described as some inches over six feet with thick auburn hair and deepset blue eyes

Chieftain of a cadet branch of Clan Cameron, Laird of Ardroy

An ardent Jacobite

Seriously injured in the thigh at the Battle of Culloden and left for dead

Escaped the fate of other wounded Jacobites on the field after his two foster brothers took him to safety in a local farmhouse (this may or may not be a historical detail, so I will reserve judgement on this point)

Formed an unlikely bond with a Hanoverian officer, Captain (later Major) Keith Windham, who felt an uneasy attraction to Ewen and who ultimately professed his feelings of friendship

Avoided death by firing squad only by the last minute intervention of a Hanoverian officer, Major Windham, who owed a debt of honour to Ewen

Very nearly subjected to flogging at the hands of a cruel Hanoverian officer, later imprisoned for several months in Fort Augustus before ultimately escaping to France

Personality: Ewen is a very gentle and considered man who beneath the surface is rather stubborn and hotheaded. He possess a strong sense of honour and duty.

James (Jamie) Fraser:

Born 1721, aged 24 in 1745

Described as being tall, 6′4″ according to the Outlander Wiki, with red or auburn hair and cat-like blue eyes

Chieftain of a cadet branch of Clan Fraser, Laird of Broch Tuarach

Fights for the Jacobite cause, however his loyalty to it is questionable as he does attempt to prevent the Rising after learning about its devastating effects from his wife, Claire, who is a time-traveller, and even goes so far as to consider murdering Prince Charles Edward Stuart

Seriously injured in the thigh at the Battle of Culloden and left for dead

Formed an antagnoistic bond with a Hanoverian officer, Captain “Black” Jack Randall, who is attracted to Jamie and goes so far as to sexually assault him

Formed an unlikely bond with a Hanoverian officer, Major John Grey, who felt a romantic attraction to Jamie and who made overtures to Jamie, which are rebuffed. They remained friends, however, despite the lack of romantic attraction on Jamie’s side

Escaped the fate of other wounded Jacobites on the field after two of his kinsmen took him to safety in a local farmhouse

Avoided death by firing squad only by the last minute intervention of a Hanoverian officer, Major Hal Grey, brother to John Grey, whose family owed a debt of honour to Jamie

Subjected to flogging at the hands of a cruel Hanoverian officer, Captain Randall, and was imprisoned on and off throughout his young adulthood, both before and after the Rising

Personality: Jamie is a charming and amiable man who also possesses a very stubborn and hotheaded side. He, like Ewen, possess a strong sense of honour and duty, although this was not uncommon for men of the 18th century, at least in fiction.

There are arguments to be made as well for the similarities between Keith Windham and Jack Randall and John Grey, with Randall sharing physical similarities with Windham (beind described as dark haired with hazel eyes), and Grey having a similar personality, as both Grey and Windham uphold their honour above all else, though they are occasionally rash. It may also be worth considering that John gives Jamie a sapphire ring at one point as a token of their friendship, just as Keith gave Ewen his signet ring as a memento of their friendship as he lay dying. I do want to stress, however, that I don’t believe that Gabaldon deliberately lifted from The Flight of the Heron, despite the many character similarities, although I would be curious to know how much she has read the book or the series, and if she is at all conscious of the possible mark it left on her own writings.

#the flight of the heron #meta #not tagging this as O*tlander because I don't want people to feel like I'm shitting on their series #because I'm very much not — there's plenty in the books I think is compelling

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