Archives for the Date August 1st, 2019

Any HRH coming soon? Absolutely in love with this fic and these two. Your writing is out of this world and I can’t wait for where this story is going, it’s SO SO SO SO GOOD.

This is my submission for the One Quote, One Shot challenge by @notevenjokingfic and @balfeheughlywed.  The quote assigned to me (@missclairebelle) was: “Leave, then,” he said, jerking his head toward the door. “If that’s what ye think of me, go! I’ll not hinder ye.” Happy reading!

Part I: The Crown Equerry | Part II: An Accidental Queen | Part III: Just Claire | Part IV: Foal | Part V: A Deal | Part VI: Vibrations | Part VII: Magnolias| Part VIII: Schoolmates | Part IX: A Queen’s Speech | Part X: Rare | Part XI: Watched | Part XII: A Day’s Anticipation | Part XIII: The Location | Part XV: Motorcycle | Part XV: Cabin | Part XVI: Market | Part XVII: Stables | Part XVIII: Alarms | Part XIX: Visitor

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.)
Part XX: Cuffed

It was Sunday night.

The weekend was behind Jamie and Claire (along with all of the possibilities those short hours held).

For another five nights, the cabin was behind them.

When he’d left her (fingers tangling in her hair and holding her face within inches of his, the fronts of their bodies melted together until all that separated their hearts was skin and clothes and bone), he’d whispered, “We should talk about what comes next.”

Alone as the hollow bong bong bong of the grandfather clock just outside her bathroom announced the arrival of ten o’clock, Claire sank into the bath (feeling utterly boneless) and closed her eyes.

She ached everywhere.

Between her legs where Jamie’s hips had lived throughout the preceding forty-eight hours.

Deep in her belly where a new emptiness had taken up residence.

Along the centerline of her shoulder blades where she had winched herself up from the sleeping bag on their impromptu camping trip as he closed a hand over her breast, his mouth a molten, sucking thing at her throat.

At the base of her skull where his parting words echoed (residing like an unwelcome companion to her every thought).

What comes next

These parts of her. She knew they would continue to burn, to feel like they had been pulled taut long after dawn came and she again was the Queen, not Just Claire.

She didn’t just know that these incidental aches would remind her of their time (those precious, disconnected hours where they had blissfully lived without answering to another), she hoped that they would.

A reminder. A brand. A place for Fraser to dwell under her skin, close to the bone, twined together with the nerves and veins and vessels that made her human.

Relishing the promise of weightlessness in her bath, she lazily watched as she willed her arms to go limp and bob up from beneath the placid lavender-scented surface.

“I love you, Jamie Fraser,” she said, taking in a mouthful of milky-white bathwater. It was the first time she’d said it aloud in the bounds of her own room, in the palace where she lived for a portion of the summer. The emptiness in her belly filled (just for a moment), her heart skipped (just for one-half of one beat). She let her mouth rise up from beneath the water, drew breath, and whispered it again. “I love you, Jamie Fraser.”

Smiling to herself, she perched her feet on the edge of the tub and sank until her entire head was underwater.

She had never known it was possible to smile while screaming.

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