Deja Vu

Chapter 3: Feminine Wiles

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns Outlander 

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Jamie gave me his promise to shield me from the suspicious lot—for the second time—after ministering to his wound, but I still felt uneasy with all eyes on me as I walked into the great hall that evening. A hush had come over the seated diners, and the susurrus didn't start up again until, I had accepted the seat between Hobson's choice, Colum and Dougal, respectively. As I ate, I looked around the room, searching for Jamie, to no avail.

Remembering how tipsy I'd become on my last venture, I decided to imbibe sparingly. No sense in inviting a miserable hangover on the following morning. I left the wagging tongues behind, and slipped off to my assigned bedroom.

*****

Auld Alec was hoverin' 'bout me, makin' sure I was earnin' my keep, I suppose. Ever' time, I stopped to take a bit o' breath, there he was, complainin' as I was shirkin' my bluidy duty. So fixed on trainin' the new colt to avoid his constant caterwaulin', I didna take to notice o' the lovely lass as stood by the gate wi' a basket o' victuals and such. I heard her call, but had forgotten as I had been usin' the name o' Jamie McTavish. The auld grump walked beside me, pokin' me in the back to get my attention. "Are ye deef, lad? Did ye no hear the lass callin' to ye?"

With a keek o'er my shoulder, I quickly handed the tether to the bad-tempered man. "Oh, aye, but I didna think it was me she was callin' to."

Scowlin' at me, he said, "Weel, go see what she wants o' ye. Then get back to yer work."

"Christ, d'ye always havta be in such a foul mood? The lass can hear ye, I expect."

"Just do as ye're told. I'm sure she appreciates as work needs to be doon. No all o' us can traipse 'bout the hills, bringin' baskets o' sorts to lazy stable hands."

I rolled my eyes at that man, and turned, saunterin' to the gate, no wantin' to appear hasty, mind. "Ah, Mistress Beechum ..."

She nodded, a smile lightin' op her face. "Mr. McTavish. You know you may call me Claire if you've a care to."

"Och ... d'ye think it proper, seein' as we only just met a few days ago?"

"I don't see why not. Aren't we friends now? Besides, Mistress Beechum is so formal. Certainly a mouthful too."

I couldna help the grin as formed on my face. "Aye, I see yer meanin'. So, Claire it is, then."

I opened the gate for her to pass thru, but couldna think o' another thin' to say. My words somehow got stuck in my craw, the beauty o' her renderin' me speechless, and that was some doin', considerin' how I liked to ramble on 'bout most anathin'. Liftin' the basket, she broke the silence, sayin', "I thought you might be hungry, so I brought along some lunch to share."

Takin' it from her arm, I led her to the awnin', away from the dusty ground. "I thank ye truly. Auld Alec would rather see me starve than take a wee tick to eat a bite."

While we ate and talked, I studied her manner and expressions. She was a Sassenach, o' a truth, but a bonny lass, and verra couthie as well. Sassenach or no, I felt comfortable beside her.

Our time t'gether was no long enough. Auld Alec came a nosin' round, frownin' and mutterin', "Talkin' to that Sassenach spy when there's horses waitin' in the stables."

Claire heard him namin' her a spy. Her face flushed, and in an instant, had all the remainin' food, fixin's and such put back in the basket. I was verra sorry to see her go on to the courtyard. But, I did see her in a rowdy-dow wi' Rupert, as made me fill wi' amusement. She was a feisty lass, to be sure, not a lass to trifle wi'.