When Claire finds a sick infant abandoned in the woods, she rushes it back to the warmth and safety of Leoch. When her medical skills prove effective and the child’s life is no longer at risk, she finds she wants to keep and raise the baby with Jamie.
Lamb was asleep against Claire who was leaning into the warm circle of Jamie’s arms as they sat up in bed, the fire dying down in the hearth — it would need to be built up again soon. Their heads gently rested against each other as they fought to dismiss the fears of the day, as they rejoiced in being together once more.
Jamie turned his head and lightly pressed his lips to Claire’s temple. “Ye should lay him in his cradle,” he murmured into her curls, breathing deeply and letting the scent of her calm his nerves — nothing would happen to any of them tonight.
She shifted his weight but left Lamb where he was. “A little while longer. I just… I can’t make myself let him go again.”
“I understand,” Jamie told her. He reached over and took the baby’s clenched fist, running his thumb over the small and delicate fingers. “Didna ken just how much I think on him as ours until we came so close to losin’ him today.”
“Your uncle wanted them to take him back,” Clare said with a cold calm. “He said as much to the examiners and Father Bain.”
“Mmmm, I understand Father Bain o’er reached himself in his eagerness to take revenge on ye.” Jamie’s arm tightened around Claire’s shoulders. “The mother wasna steady enough and he’d too clear a sway over her, puir woman. It was likely his doing she didna seek ye out for help wi’ the bairn when he fell ill in the first place.”
“My sympathy for her reached its limit some time ago. Her display today was…” then Claire sighed, the anger leaching out of her as Lamb yawned in his sleep. “I’m still worried Colum will find some way to take Lamb away from us. Just because this attempt failed doesn’t mean he won’t keep searching.”
“Aye, and Father Bain willna accept defeat so easily either, I expect. It’s no safe here, Claire,” Jamie whispered, his voice thick with his lingering fear. “No for you, and no for the bairn.”
“Safer now that you’re back,” she murmured, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. All she had to do was turn her head and she could kiss the spot on his neck where his pulse fluttered. So she did. And watched his mouth twitch into a smile in response.
“Come. Let’s put him to bed,” Jamie suggested, shifting behind Claire so she wouldn’t fall back into the pillows and disturb Lamb’s sleep.
She scooted to the edge of the bed, her shift riding up and exposing her bare thighs. The chill in the room had her breaking into gooseflesh before she could stand and gravity brought the curtain of fabric back down.
Jamie sighed deeply before rising and following her to the cradle that would soon be too small for the growing babe. Soon he wouldn’t be so helpless and calm. He would crawl and then climb, walk and then run, babble and then talk. He would get into everything in Claire’s surgery and she would beg him to take the child with him to the stables, to distract him with the horses so she could get a moment’s peace with her patients. He would teach the lad to ride and help break the horses during the day, and in the evenings he’d teach him to read, to think and speak other languages. He would teach the lad to be a man.
In that moment as he watched Claire lay the warm, limp body down and cover him with blankets, Jamie saw everything as it should be.
But that vision didn’t include Colum or Dougal and their political scheming. And there would be no escaping either at Castle Leoch.
It was impossible to say how long they’d wept, bore their broken hearts to each other. Where, in the beginning, Claire was hyper aware of strange, insignificant details, now, she was hardly aware of anything. Time was either rushing by faster than she could grasp or it was not moving at all. She hadn’t remembered Jenny leaving her side, when she’d come to be alone in her room. And she certainly couldn’t remember a particular boy entering the room and sitting beside her. When he spoke, it was as if he’d appeared out of thin air.
“Maman?”
His voice sounded like it was underwater. She knew he needed her comfort, knew he’d lost him too…but she couldn’t move. She was paralyzed.
Fergus had seen her lost in her grief once before. After Faith, when Jamie was in the Bastille. She thought she’d lost them both back then. Oh, and he was so good to her, even through his own suffering. He could set aside his youth to be strong for a woman nearly triple his age. Now she could not bring herself to move to give him even an ounce of comfort, for fear her fragile shell may shatter.
Tori