Outlander Reversed

Nine

Whirling around like a dervish at the Sound of an all-too-familiar voice, Jamie was both surprised and not by the face he was greeted with. After all, who could forget the hard, chiseled features and Icy coldness in the hazel eyes of the man who’d done everything but kill him? He damn sure couldn’t forget, no matter how much he wanted to–not even when he was in bed with and quite literally buried in his wife.

        Captain Jonathan Black Jack Randall smirked at him, one corner of his mouth momentarily twitching up as he shoved both women behind him. There was no mistaking what was so obviously in his eyes now–the same sadistic Light that’d been there as he’d uncoiled the flogger he’d nearly removed his entire back with.

        He didn’t even think as his left hand wrapped around the hilt of his dirk–he simply acted, just as he’d done on the Day he’d been dragged off to Fort William for imprisonment. There was no way in Hell he was letting this sick bastard get his hands on Jenny again, and he damn sure wasn’t letting him get them on Summer even once. Even if his gallant bravery finally did get him killed, at least he could die somewhat happy, knowing he’d protected and saved those who meant the most to him. That’d allow him to rest peacefully once he was put in the ground, assuming this bastard didn’t burn his remains outta spite.

        But before the ginger man could unsheathe said dirk, let alone goad the Captain into making him use it, he felt a sharp pain in the vicinity of his kidney. With a cry that was equally sharp, he dropped to his knees, the dragoons before him clearly startled as they collectively took a step back. Stars danced across his vision and he swore he’d faint, even as he curled up and tucked his head between his knees. For that reason, he barely registered what was happening till it was too late to do anything to stop it.

        “Captain Jonathan Wolverton Randall, more commonly known as Black Jack,” Summer said, her tone not giving away even the barest of Emotions.

        “Mo chridhe,” Jamie ground out, trying to grab her ankle since it was the only thing he could reach from his knees.

        “Do it, and I’ll do almost as bad to you as I’ma do to him before it’s all over,” she warned him without so much as a glance over her shoulder.

        “You think a woman can do anything to me?” Captain Randall laughed, sarcasm and laughter warring for Dominance in his voice. “I’d like you see you try, sweeting.”

        The young woman’s eyes didn’t even narrow at the taunting. “Not till I’m given a damn good reason–and at the present moment, one of those, I don’t have.”

        “’Cuz you’re like every other woman–weak and useless outside childbed,” he said.

        “Uh, sir,” one of the lesser soldiers broke in from the position he’d taken up behind him. “I don’t think I’d provoke her.”

        “No, ’cuz we’re going to show her what women’re good for,” the Captain said.

        Summer’s expression hadn’t Changed in the slightest, and not even her husband knew what her next move’d be.

        “Take her,” Captain Randall ordered. “And make sure she knows her place.”

        The ginger man took a breath to let out a cry that was equal parts Rage and anguish, but didn’t get the chance–and not ’cuz Jenny did anything to Silence him where she knelt next to him.

        “Touch me again, and I’ll rip more than just your spinal column out with my bare hands,” she snarled to the man she’d just launched over her shoulder like a sack of Taters.

        Said man could only let out a squeaky groan from where he now lay on his back, his limbs limp as overcooked greens.

        “Anyone else even think about trying such a thing, and you’ll get the same thing,” the young woman said, glancing around at the group of petrified soldiers.

        “I said take her!” the only one who didn’t appear terrified of her ordered.

        Not a single soldier moved to comply with his order, and Jamie bristled as he took a step toward his wife. He refused to stand back and watch her be assaulted in any way, ’cuz this bastard couldn’t get to him. That was something that didn’t sit well with him, and he meant to do something about it, despite the hands that suddenly grabbed his shoulders.

        But Summer was clearly tougher than she looked, not to mention had two inches on the man she stared down. Whether she was lighter than he or not clearly didn’t matter–she was undoubtedly lighter than the soldier she’d flung over her shoulder, but she’d still managed a feat even he couldn’t. And if he knew her even half as well as he thought he did, she’d lay down her own Life for those she loved–not to mention those closest to them–quicker than the Thought could enter his own head.

        It wasn’t his sister’s voice that dragged his attention from the stand-off right in front of his face, but another that was all too familiar. Turning his head, the ginger man was shocked to see his childhood friend–Ian Murray–kneeling on his other side. His jaw dropped as that fact registered, considering he hadn’t seen him since their Days as soldiers in France, even though that was just a couple short Years ago.