A Rift in the Fabric of Time

Chapter 16: Scandalized

Chapter 16: Scandalized

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. . . . .

Thank goodness the next day was Sunday, because after our little tryst, neither Jamie nor I could move, let alone put in a full day of work. We were limp as week-old celery, and lay in bed until well past nine, cuddled together under the blankets, reveling in a decadent bout of slothfulness.

I was sated, and relaxed. My lover however, was once again feeling amorous, obviously starting to sense his sexual energy being restored despite last night's orgiastic encounters. He was kissing the back of my neck, and playfully outlining the shell of my ear. I twisted my body around to face him. "Haven't you had enough loving for one day?"

"Nay. I ne'er can have my fill o' ye. I do believe there's this hollow inside my soul. Each time I take ye, a wee bit o' the hole closes op, it does, but with the passin' o' time, the fillin' gets eaten away, and the hollow opens, waitin' for ye to fill it op agin."

"Jamie, I don't know if I can fill it up right this minute; I don't have it in me. You tired me out. You have to admit you were a beast last night, and a little rough to boot."

"Och ...and what d'ye call this, Sassenach?" He pointed to the bite marks on his shoulder.

"I call that reciprocity."

His head jerked back. "Meanin'?"

"Tit for tat."

He wrinkled his brow. "Come agin?"

"Oh, Scotty. You are a wonder. I was retaliating for your brutish behaviour."

One eyebrow cocked. "Is that what it was?"

"Never  mind. I admit I enjoyed every second of it, but I need awhile to prepare for the next assault."

With a loud sigh, he muttered, "Alright ... I'll no manhandle ye agin 'til t'night."

"Is that a threat?"

"Nay. It's a promise. I'll be more gentle forbye. Anaways, I'll be certain as ye eat first, so as my shoulder willna be so temptin'."

I shoved him in jest, tapping the area where my teeth marks remained.

"Ow ... seems as I have a need o' recuperatin' myself. Ye dinna have hydrophobia, d'ye?"

"No, I most certainly am not a mad dog, but I am mad about you."

He smirked. "Good."

. . . . .

When we finally hauled our arses outta bed, we ate some breakfast, and Jamie reset his traps while I went about collecting berries, pine nuts, and wild plums. Afterwards, I counted out my bills and change so Jamie could see what was left of my pay. I also got the Scotch down out of the loo, and placed it in a prominent position on the kitchen work space.

During the afternoon lull, I thought about the conversation we had last night. I couldn't deny that some of what Jamie said was true. Would he remain happy, doing manual labor all his life? He did the same at Lallybroch, albeit the estate was his. There was status and honor in working the place and supplying his tenants with necessities. The responsibilities were daunting, yet rewarding simultaneously.

Prospects here were exceedingly slim, these post-war years having thrown the whole country into a depression of vast magnitude. I wondered if my Scotsman could ever find his niche, and that thought had me worried. It was a niggling, constant, gnaw in the recesses of my conscious mind.