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“Your destination is on the right,” announced Jamie’s sat nav.

Claire’s current home was one of the newer builds, with an estate built within an estate. Jamie felt rather claustrophobic as he peered outside his cracked open window to see houses upon houses. He much preferred green open space. His hands rested loosely onto the steering wheel, as he rolled to a slow stop outside number 108.

The door was painted a dashing red, with a shiny golden letterbox. A tiny garden sitting out front, housed one side of already bloomed flowers - peonies, pansies, freesias. While the other, was home to tiny thin sprigs of lavender and rosemary, and perhaps even mint, if Jamie wasn’t much mistaken.

She’d never mentioned it before, unless it was Faith and Fergus who planted and tended to the little garden, but Jamie’s Sassenach appeared to be a little green fingered of her own. She obviously had a way with the wee herbs that Jamie had never mastered and been able to keep alive. They were a little too delicate for his liking, often being overshadowed by the bigger, tougher ones that Jamie had to show for his accomplishment.

A twitch of the cream curtains covering Claire’s window drew Jamie’s attention away from the garden and back towards the door. The matching brass doorknob turned, and before Jamie could unbuckle his seatbelt and slither out of his seat to greet her, Claire was already turning on the step to lock the house up behind her.

As she busied herself with the important task at hand, Jamie got a quick look at his Sassenach without her knowledge. The weather had certainly picked up these last few days, so Claire had forgone a cardigan, jacket or coat.

The light blue colour of the dress she’d chosen made her dark Hollywood curls stand out more than usual, as they were swept over to one shoulder, the way Jamie liked them best. The evening gown’s silk-like material shifted as Claire moved, showcasing every inch of her slight curves and the small train on the back of her evening gown.

Holy fucking…

Christ…

Jamie didn’t ken what he wanted to focus on first as Claire turned around, keys clutched in her palm. She sent Jamie a blinding smile through the car window, before grasping either side of her dress with both hands and lifting the hem away from the muddy ground.

His Sassenach looked like Cinderella out of those children’s books that Jamie could recall reading to Willie only a couple of years back.

If it was possible, the gown she’d chosen to wear looked even better from the front. The sleeves of the dress rested on her upper arms, leaving her décolletage bare.

“Hi,” she said, breathlessly, holding out a tiny white clutch bag and a tote bag for Jamie to take. He did so willingly, placing the tote bag in the backseat, but not before seeing a change of clothes and a phone charger resting on the top. The clutch bag Jamie kept in his lap, while Claire carefully maneuvered herself into the front seat, taking pains to get herself comfy and stop the extra material of the dress from covering Jamie’s gear stick.

“Hi, yerself,” Jamie uttered against her skin, as he pressed his cheek to hers and caught the corner of her glossy mouth. Claire’s skin was butter soft against his own, her signature scent potent in all the best way. “Ye got everything?”

“Yes,” Claire jerked her thumb back to the tote bag sitting in the back. “I bought some spare clothes with me to wear tomorrow at yours, hope you don’t mind.”

“Course I don’t.” Jamie took his foot off the break, twisting his body towards Claire and resting a hand on the back of her headrest, as he turned the car back around on itself. “Ye look absolutely gorgeous, Sassenach.”

Her hands reached out to smooth the open collar of his starch white shirt, where Jamie had unbuttoned the top two buttons in a nervous attempt to sweat less.

Claire’s forefinger wiggled its way past his button down to rest on his bare neck. Her hands were cold, but deliciously so, reminding Jamie of her steady presence beside him. “So do you, Mr. Fraser, so do you.”

---

The drive to the Hummingbird hotel, where Claire’s work function was being held, took only a matter of minutes as they drove from Claire’s street. A matter of minutes in which Jamie imagined every possible scenario of reaching under Claire’s billowy skirts and finding out what she wore (or didn’t wear) underneath.

Currently, his hand rested innocently on Claire’s covered knee, her own hand on top of his, keeping both of them connected even as Jamie followed the directions to the bank of the hotel and into an empty car parking space.

“Stay there,” said Jamie, pocketing the car keys. “I’ll help ye get out.” Rounding the car, Jamie cracked open the passenger side door and held both hands aloft to catch Claire’s waist before her feet met the floor. For the first time in almost a week her body was solid in his arms.

“Thanks, Prince Charming.”

Jamie beamed, feeling more at peace, and less nervous, than he had done all week. Claire was by his side and everything would be all right. “Prince Charming, aye? Well, ye do look like Cinderella, Sassenach.”

“Faith thought the same thing.” The pointed toe of Claire’s white heels pressed against the pointed edge of Jamie’s loafers. “Although, Cinderella was a bit of a goody two shoes, wasn’t she? Never telling anybody her identity, only allowing the prince one dance, being back home before midnight struck.”

“Are ye trying to tell me that ye’re not a goody two shoes, Sassenach?”

“Nope.” Laying a light hand upon his shoulder, Claire leaned in until her lips just brushed the curve of Jamie’s ear. “I distinctly remember someone telling me I was a bad girl.”

He had a semi already.

“And,” she continued, trailing her hand down his side, stopping only when it rested on the swell of Jamie’s arse. “I won’t be home for midnight, in fact, I won’t be going home at all.”

Jamie couldn’t stop himself. He cupped the back of her neck with one hand, feeling the heat radiating from her scalp. The other he used to forcibly grab her waist, sending Claire stumbling into him, before she rightened herself with ease. His heavy breath washed over her upper lip and prominent Cupid’s bow, and then Jamie was kissing the life out of her. Feeling her lips, her body, her hands move over his, with his, for the first time since the airport.

God, did it feel good.

Right.

Pure.

Soul consuming.

Claire was giving back as good as she got, hands cupping Jamie’s fine cut jaw, to keep him in place.

When they separated, and only because Jamie felt his lungs were burning as if they were likely to combust, both of them stood panting – the small swells of Claire’s breasts heaving up and down with sheer exertion.

Jamie smacked his lips together, feeling a peachy tasting gloss coat them. He was about to say something, when a voice called out from across the car park, standing, silhouetted, in a back door frame.

“Oi!” The unmistakable sound of Geillis’ voice reached Jamie’s ears. “Could ye two stop eating each other’s faces for just a minute?”

Jamie’s head swiveled from Geillis, to Claire and then back again, the corners of his mouth twitching all the while, even if the tips of his ears did feel hot from embarrassment.

Claire began to hurry forward across the car park, holding her skirts aloft as best as possible.

“Sassenach,” Jamie grasped her bare forearm. “Wait.”

In her haste, the train on the back of Claire’s evening gown had become tangled over itself, part of the inside stitching on display. Bending his knees, Jamie steadied himself, and then picked up either side of the rounded train.

“There.” He said, straightening up, the train of her dress and all its under layers and petticoats, held safely in his palms. “Wouldn’t want ye to get all messy, Cinderella.”

“Thank you,” Claire replied, her facial features soft, but those eyes of hers dark with something less innocent.

In tandem, the two of them walked the short way to the back door where Geillis still stood, holding the fire exit door open with her foot, a look of happiness about her feminine features as she watched the pair of them approach.

“How did you even know we were here?” Asked Claire, while Jamie busied himself with laying the beautiful train back on the carpeted floor, smoothed out this time without a tulle petticoat or hemline showing. It occurred to him for a split second, that he would be performing the same act on his wedding day if Claire was his bride; smoothing out her lace train and veil to make it perfectly presentable for pictures, swishing it out of the way to make sure neither of them stepped on it while they took their first dance as husband and wife.

The thought physically choked him up, causing his throat to close up and a harsh cough to sound in the back of his esophagus.

“Jamie? Are you okay?” Claire’s concerned voice sounded above him, her free hand coming up to rub soothing circles on the middle portion of his back.

“Aye,” he sniffed, tapping his left hand against his chest three or four times to dislodge the burning blockage. Around him, the rest of the lobby came back into focus; the dark blue accents of the tablecloths covering the tables in the next room, the gaudy golden ribbons that were tied on the back of every chair, the deafening noise of a thousand voices all talking at once. “What were ye saying, Geillie?”

“I was just saying Mary,” she began walking out of the lobby, and through an arched downway, into the main event room, which housed the tables, a makeshift stage and a fair number of people all standing around in groups. “and her date had seen ye’s sitting in yer truck, that how I kent ye would be outside.”

Thankfully, Geillis didn’t seem to be leading Jamie straight in the lion’s den, but rather towards the bar, shoving her way through a throng of suited and booted men, until she could easily sway one of the bartender's attention.

Leaning her elbows and forearms onto the sticky bar, Geillis turned her gaze over her shoulder, her pin straight hair sliding over her upper back. “What do ye want, Claire?”

“Just a…” Claire searched behind the bar for a menu, and upon finding none, blew out a breath as she thought. “I’ll just have a… a strawberry daiquiri if they can make one.”

“Mm,” Geillis pursed her lips also in thought. “I might have one of those too, Jamie?”

“Eh?” He was busy watching the men in suits show each other their minted watches hanging from their meaty wrists. “I’ll have a shandy, if ye don’t mind, just because I’m driving and all.”

Geillis nodded, ordering the two cocktails and shandy from the next passing bartender.

Putting his hand into his back pocket, Jamie fiddled with his old leather wallet. Parts of it were falling apart by now, mostly from old age and the amounts of constant use. The leather was beyond buttery soft, the inside stitching holding it together, fraying away. “How much do I owe ye?”

“Owe me?” Geillis handed him his drink first. It was perfectly ice cold, the bubbles from the lemonade and shot of beer mixing together to create a thin foam upon the top. “Ye don’t owe me anything, lad, it’s a free bar.”

“A free bar?” Jamie took a small sip, the lemonade hitting the back of his tongue and making his cheeks hollow in with the amount of sugar in it. “I feel sorry for the poor buggers who have to work tomorrow.”

“Well, it isn’t us,” Geillis passed Claire her strawberry daiquiri back, the glass full to the brim with red liquid, half a strawberry sitting on the white sugared rim and even a tiny orange umbrella. “So who gives a fuck.”

Jamie chortled into the rim of his glass, at Geillis’ expression, taking another sip and then licking the cold foam that had settled just under his nose.

With no concept of how tonight would usually plan out, or when they’d all be called to sit down and wait through the upcoming award ceremony, Jamie politely followed behind Geillis and Claire, until they stopped beside another mixed group of well dressed people. This time three suited men stood around, two of them holding half empty pints of beer, and the other holding a practically flute of golden champagne. Jamie noticed him first, what with his shock of black hair sitting upon his head, and his arm wrapped around the waist of a petite, rather timid looking, lass.

Geillis slotted herself between the two beer drinking men, easily, as if she’d not been missing for minutes. Claire, however, grabbed Jamie’s hand with her free one, sliding sideways into a spot between the slight lass, so as to give Jamie room to stand in the circle, as well.

“Ye look very bonny, Claire,” the man standing on Geillis’ left spoke. He was tall, not as tall as Jamie, but not far off. His suit fit far better than Jamie’s ever did, even when it had been newly bought and tailored. Taking a drink, Jamie allowed his eyes to travel down the rest of the man’s body – even his shoes were ridiculously shiny, the kind you might be able to see your reflection in if you tried hard enough. In contrast, Jamie wiggled his toes within his tight fitting leather loafers. It had been a while since he’d worn them. Like everything in his wardrobe that may be considered his Sunday best or dressy, Jamie didn’t get a lot of wear out of them. The life of a full time farmer wasn’t about style or trends.

“Thank you, Tom.” Claire replied, smoothing the ball of her thumb along the web between Jamie’s own thumb and index finger. “You haven’t met my boyfriend, Jamie, yet, have you?”

Brazenly, Tom looked Jamie up and down, his gaze settling on his and Claire’s intertwined fingers for a little longer than Jamie appreciated. “I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure yet.” The doctor stuck his hand out. “Doctor Tom Christie.”

Letting go of Claire for just a second, Jamie clasped his palm against Christie’s. The doctor’s handshake was strangely limp, and palm wet from what Jamie hoped was the condensation from his beer glass, and not sweat.

The second man standing on Geillis’ right pointed at himself. “I’m Matt. It’s nice to meet ye.”

“Likewise,” said Jamie.

At least Matt hadn’t introduced himself as a doctor, and his handshake was neither limp nor wet.

“And I’m Alex,” the black haired champagne drinker spoke up. “This here is my Mary.”

The wee lass, Mary, smiled with her lips still sealed together. She fidgeted with her hands out in front of her, devoid of a glass, or a clutch bag.

Jamie slid his fingers back through Claire’s, grateful for her touch and dry palm pressed to his. He looked around at the small circle, taking stock. “So, do ye’s all work together?”

Tom chose to answer the question, rocking back and forth on one heel of his shiny toed shoe. “On and off, it all depends on what shifts we do.”

“I meant are ye all doctors, or nurses, or…”

The tip of Tom’s nose turned red, Jamie could see the veins from where he stood decorating the bulbous tip, as Jamie corrected his own question.

“Aye, we’re all doctors.” Geillis said, slurping down the rest of her drink noisily, before continuing. “Our wee virgin Mary here is still in training.”

Mary piped up, much to Jamie's surprise. She hadn’t seemed the type. Nor the type to let Geillis’ nickname for her just pass her by, but the lass didn’t bat an eyelid. Jamie supposed she must be used to it by now, especially if she’d been working beside Geillis for a while now. “But I’m already a qualified nurse.”

Jamie nodded, repositioning his grip on his glass. “Och, good for ye, lass.”

Mary opened her mouth, but was beaten to it.

“And what do ye do, Mr…?” Tom asked, licking his lips in a rather strange manner.

“Fraser. Jamie Fraser,” Jamie supplied. “I--”

“Fraser?” Matt wondered aloud. “Fraser?” He repeated. “I ken that name. Why do I ken that name?”

Tom sent his work colleague a strained look much to Jamie’s amusement. He couldn’t quite get a read on why Tom was acting… strange, for want of a better word. But whatever the reason, Jamie had made his mind up in seconds, that he simply wasn’t keen on the man doctor or no doctor.

Matt scratched at his prominent Adam’s apple. “Yer no relation to Fraser produce, are ye?”

“Fraser produce?” Tom’s tone dripped with something unpleasant.

Jamie squinted his eyes in Tom’s direction, as he answered Matt’s question. “Aye, I co-own Fraser Produce.”

“Ye don’t! Really?” Matt exclaimed. “I try and buy all my meat and dairy from ye, when I can. Christ, yer Wensleydale cheese is to die for. Put it in a toastie with some cut up onion.” Matt smacked his lips together. “Delicious.”

“Och, thank ye.” Jamie felt his cheeks heat with pride. It had taken blood, sweat and tears to get Fraser’s Produce up and running, with a good name for itself. “Can’t say I can take all the glory, though. My sister’s in charge of a lot of the dairy process, and then obviously we sell it on to a proper cheese parlour. But I’m glad ye try and shop our sustainable produce, means a lot to hear that.”

“What is this Fraser Produce?” Tom’s voice cut through Jamie’s speech. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Jamie owns a farm,” said Claire, clearing her throat. “Him and his family. Together they sell their meats and dairy produce to some of the local larder’s around town. The brand is called Fraser’s Produce.”

Jamie smiled openly, turning to face Claire as she spoke. Here she was. His Sassenach openly standing up for him against one of her own work colleagues.

Tom’s tongue dug into the fleshy part of his cheek, distending it. “So ye own the farm?”

“Aye,” Jamie nodded, allowing an icy sip to travel down his throat. “I’ve a third. My Da and brother-in-law own the other two thirds.”

“And does it pay well?”

Jamie blinked once, and then again, his mind whirring with Tom’s question. Mainly, the undercurrent in Tom’s tone, which he hadn’t really bothered to be polite, and try to hide.

“That’s a bit too much of a personal question, no?”

Tom said nothing in reply, choosing instead to hide in unguarded expression in the last dregs of his drink. Down by his side, Claire’s hand tightened against Jamie’s twice in quick succession. It was more than nice to hear her verbally speak up for him, to verbally show her support. But it was also nice to have an unspoken agreement between the two of them that only the other understood. Just their little secret.

Above, a voice spoke over the tannoy. “Ladies and Gents, if ye could all take yer seats, the ceremony is about to begin.”

“Do ye ken where we’re sitting, Sassenach?” Jamie asked, joining in on the fray of people who were all trying to find their designated seats at the same time.

“I’m pretty sure it’s table five, but let me just double check.” Fumbling about with her clutch bag, Claire drew out two cream stock cards, each with intricate lettering decorating one side. Jamie only got a quick glimpse as Claire flattened out the creases she’d had to make to get the square cards to fit in her tiny bag, but the cards definitely appeared to have Claire’s doctorate credentials written upon them.

She tucked them back in and started towards a table situated not too far away from the edge of the stage. “Yes, it’s definitely table five. I think Geillie and Mary and Alex are sitting with us two, but I’m not certain.”

Jamie peered over his shoulder to find Mary and Alex walking in the same direction as he and Claire, their hands sweetly held together. Thankfully, Tom and Matt appeared to be at table eight, on the other side of the room. And Geillis…? Well, she was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Geillie gone too? She was here only a minute ago,” said Jamie, pulling the chair with Claire’s place card in front of it, out.

“Bar,” Claire and Mary answered simultaneously.

Of course, Jamie should have known.

While the rest of the seats were filled, the lights built into the surrounding walls dimmed, leaving the lights above the stage to appear brighter. Jamie’s eyes focused on a man who was still standing at the bar, seemingly unbothered about the instruction to sit down. He was much too busy trying to chat up a lass. From her closed off body language, and short nods, he didn’t look like he was getting away with it.

“I’m sorry about Tom back there.” Claire’s lowered tone, and the way she was playing with his fingers, brought Jamie’s attention back to himself and his own bonny lass sitting next to him. “He was just being plain rude and--”

“It’s all right, Sassenach.” Jamie stole a kiss from her lips, gloss and all. He couldn’t help himself. “He was just being a knobhead.”

Claire looked down at the table where her hand appeared so much smaller laying against the back of Jamie’s. “I don’t know why he was doing it, though.”

“It doesn’a matter.” He pushed a lock of her unruly hair back behind her ear, smiling, when it didn’t want to stay put. Reaching forward, Jamie plucked the cocktail umbrella from Claire’s barely-touched drink. The decoration looked miniature in his hands, as if he were a giant. Taking pain not to stab the delicate skin behind her ear, Jamie settled the mini umbrella until it rested in the spot above Claire’s ear.

She looked adorable.

Even more so when the corners of her eyes crinkled, the usual wrinkling pattern of her skin showing, as she laughed.

Christ, she’d even look bonny when she was old and wrinkly, with laughter lines to show her amusement and brown age spots to show a well-lived life in the sun.

Claire laid a cupped hand against his cheek; thumb rubbing his prominent cheekbone back and forth. “You’re ridiculous,” she giggled.

“And ye’re gorgeous, Sassenach.” Jamie closed his eyes for a split second longer than usual, soaking in this moment. If everything went well, he’d have more than a thousand of these moments with Claire, but for now Jamie wanted to remember this one in particular. When he did open his eyes, he found Claire gazing back at him, her eyes flitting between his cornflower blue irises and to his lips. Jamie stuck out the tip of his tongue, licking the side of her wrist. Being serious for very long wasn’t something that Jamie Fraser was very adept at doing. “With or without the tiny umbrella.”

---

Much of the rest of the hospitals’ fundraising ceremony was a blur to Jamie.

Of course, he kent it was for a good cause. However, glancing around at a lot of the bored expressions, Jamie suspected most of the attendees had only chosen to show their face, because they worked there, and didn’t want to get a telling off from their boss.

For most, if not all of the ceremony, Jamie found his attention drawn to his Sassenach sitting beside him. She’d kept the mini umbrella tucked behind her ear, making Jamie’s heart grow warm and fuzzy every time his eyes caught on the bright colour standing stark against her dark hair.

The awards for the night had been given out. Jamie kent none of the people except wee Mary, whose names had been called out to take to the stage. But he loudly clapped along with the rest of them as Mary bowed her head shyly, held onto the stage handrail tightly and accepted her award for ‘most hardworking nurse.’

Claire’s name wasn’t called out, which Jamie thought a little bit unfair. He was certain his Sassenach worked fucking hard at her job, but she didn’t seem too bothered by her lack of award.

She had, however, turned a lovely shade of pink when Jamie bent to reach her ear, and whispered that he’d give her a proper reward later. So much so, Claire had choked on her strawberry daiquiri, provoking Geillis to thwack her back thoroughly with a dirty smile about her face. She may not have been able to hear him word for word, but Jamie guessed that Geillis knew the gist of what he’d uttered.

As the main boss on the stage, who’d introduced himself as Graham, gave thanks to the lab workers for their recent developments in a specialized drug, which would provide more of a chance for children born with a rare stunted growth gene, Jamie watched Claire for the fiftieth time tonight. Her chin rested in the palm of her hand, all soft and relaxed. A delighted smile played about her mouth.

Feeling his gaze, she cut her eyes to Jamie’s quickly, back to the stage and then again to Jamie.

“What?” She mouthed, her foot under the table continued to play with the sliver of ankle that his too-short trousers offered.

“Nothing.” He mouthed back, smiling as if he had a secret.

Jamie kent he was fast running out of words to describe just how breathtakingly beautiful his Sassenach was. But when he was around her, surrounded by a presence that was so simply Claire, Jamie found he just couldn’t help himself.

She was bonny beyond his wildest dreams.

She was gorgeous, both inside and out.

She was the most beautiful lass Jamie had ever seen.

And right about now, as the crowd laughed at a joke Jamie hadn’t been paying enough attention to catch and laugh at, he wanted to ruin her.

He wanted that pretty dress she wore, to cover his filthy actions. Her creamy thighs wrapped around his head as he ate her out. Her hands gripped onto his hair, almost painfully, as she came and came and came.

Once he’d done that, Jamie wanted to take her dress off, get her completely naked, flip her over and sink into her from behind. He wanted to grip the thick flesh of her arse with his hands and hear her uncontrollable cries as she burrowed her head into the pillow.

Behind the placket of his trousers, Jamie’s cock twitched. Made worse by the weight of Claire’s other hand as it rested on his upper thigh, her fingers curled around the muscle inwards towards the sensitive inner portion of his skin.

Claire was right beside him; soft, steady and smelling perfectly like herself. Jamie worried soon he’d been developing a Pavlovian response to her scent, if he hadn’t done so already.

Just a little while longer, Jamie said to both himself and his putting cock. Ye can hold on just a little while longer.

As if the god above had heard his plea, the ceremony only lasted another twenty minutes or so. Twenty minutes or so that Jamie didn’t even try to hide that he was tuning out.

It took another ten minutes or so to navigate their way through the crowds, some of which were doing the same as Jamie and Claire, desperately trying to get out of the hotel and back into their cars. While the others were content enough to stand around chatting again, leaning up against the bar, and blocking off the exits.

From across the room, Jamie waved goodbye to Matt, who was standing on his tiptoes, to be seen over the moving crowd, and waving madly to say goodbye. Tom stood beside his friend, saying nothing, but rather staring at a spot just above Jamie’s head. That was fine by Jamie. The knobhead of a doctor could go fuck himself for all Jamie cared.

Geillis, as expected of her, had situated herself back at the bar, smelling strongly of tequila as Jamie bent to press two kisses to either side of her cheeks.

She winked, rather lewdly and then fondly patted Claire on her arse. “Have a nice night ye two.”

Claire spluttered something indistinguishable, but Jamie just smiled back at her, taking ahold of Claire’s hand, so as not to lose her in the throng of people.

“I’m sure we will,” he called. “Ye enjoy yer night as well, Geillie.”

Outside, the balmy air was a welcome reprieve to Jamie. He wasn’t used to being cooped up inside, surrounded by an enclosed space with hardly any natural lighting, and a mass of bodies, all giving off a different type of energy.

While Claire said her final goodbyes to Mary and Alex, who were also crossing the car park to their car, Jamie pulled his keys from the back of his pocket. The metal jingling that the multiple keys made as they hit one another, plus the clacking of the school photo of Willie encased in a hard plastic, helped Jamie to ground himself.

He felt much better in nature, even if he was in a polluted car park with the heavy scent of car fumes still hanging in the air. It was better than being inside somewhere, unable to move around and release the negative energy that twats like Tom Christie gave off.

“So, what did you think?” Claire asked, wrapping herself around Jamie’s right arm, as they ambled away from the horde and back to their own private spot, just the two of them.

The golden light from the setting sun rebounded off the side of Jamie’s truck, showing some of the silver bodywork underneath. Christ, he needed to book it in for a touch up and a repaint, and while he was at it, dust his rearview mirrors.

“Jamie?” Claire prompted, as the backlights of the truck flashed amber, signaling that the doors were unlocked. “You hated it, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t hate it.” Opening the side door for her, Jamie held onto Claire’s waist tightly as he boosted her up and inside. He fussed with her skirts, tucking them away from the door and further into the foot well, in case they got caught.

“But?”

“It’s just not my type of thing.” He rounded his own side, hopped in and started the engine in one, well-practiced, fluid motion. “Ye ken I’m outside a lot, especially at this time of year when the sun is still shining in the sky. I guess I’m just not too good with being inside for long periods of time.”

Claire strapped herself in. “Are you outside when it’s the middle of winter and you’re freezing your bollocks off?”

“Sometimes,” Jamie hit his turn signal to turn right. “Not all the time.”

“So you’re indoors then,” Claire argued.

He changed gear. “Aye, but it’s different when ye’re in yer own home, ye ken.”

“Would you come again if I asked you too?”

Taking his eyes away from the road for a millisecond, Jamie glanced at Claire, finding her already looking at him. With his free hand, he squeezed her knee, and left it there.

“For ye, Sassenach? I’d do anything.”