Albuquerque, New Mexico

Marriage is supposed to be the union of two kindred souls, binding together for as long as both were alive. I believed marriage to be the most sacred and beautiful ceremony in the world, yet, I sat in the park, my stomach filled with a sickening dread. I would be marrying Dominic Varadicci in less than a week.

I had no love for him though, very few, could not understand why. He was a handsome man with thick, black, hair that was combed back in a perfect wave. His eyes were the color of coffee and complimented by dark, perfectly shaped brows. His face was beautiful, the bones fine, his cheekbones high. His lips were full and sensuous, set above a determined chin. His skin was dark...well, dark for an Italian. He was just six feet tall, broad shouldered and lean muscled.... Many women thought he was Adonis himself.

I knew better, I knew what was beyond that strikingly handsome man. If one looked closely at his long, slender fingers, a person would have seen that some of the knuckles were a bit out of joint as well as the small, tell-tale scars. Both came from a violent temper which he hid from most but not from me.

The most difficult part was when most people refused to believe me regardless of the many bruises I often sported. Only my best friend Johnny knew of the hell Dom put me through. He hated the fact that I would forever have only limited use of my right hand. Why? Dom shattered it with his foot when he thought I was sleeping around. I wasn’t. As of yet, I have not had sexual intercourse with any man.

It was most difficult to deal with the man when he was in the midst of his jealous rages, for the only thing on my mind was trying to protect my person from getting mutilated.

I wanted to leave him, but I couldn’t.

When I first started dating him, the devilishly handsome Italian had charmed me completely but as time progressed, his abuse came into play.

One night, after he had split my lip and blackened my eye, I decided to leave him. I did feel remorse, I had a very fond spot for the rest of his family despite their denial over their abusive son. I packed my belongings and walked out without looking back.

I had stumbled upon an execution. To sum it up easily, I learned that the Varadicci family was a well-known Mafia family, Dom’s father, was what a person called “The Godfather” Dom had given me two choices. Marry him, or die.

As far as the rest of his’s large family knew, he and I were marrying out of love. I adored much of his family, they knew how to make a person feel loved and welcome, but, even that, did not prevent the sickened feeling of my impending marriage.

The whole family, including in laws, planned a trip to Albuquerque, from there, it would be off too Nevada, where Dom and I would be married.

I stretched and stood, trying to clear my mind when my thoughts shifted to the package on my bed.

Johnny had gone to Scotland, a place I had always dreamt of visiting, and he was nice enough to send me a “care package” containing “Scottish stuff”. An unusual amount of excitement fingered its way up my spine as I continued to think about the package.

Breathing in the cool evening air I began to walk in the direction where the Varadicci mansion stood. I slipped my hands into the pockets of my jeans and began to sing softly.

Oh bonny lad, I do pray....
To be with you, both night and day....
Dearest love, come to me soon...
To seal our love, hear my rune...
Out--

The slamming of a car door interrupted my thoughts and song. Where had that song come from?

“Tracy!” Dominic barked, advancing on me, his hands balled into tight fists, his snug black pants hugging his taut thighs. “What are you doing way out here?”

I swallowed, shivering inwardly. I knew from his stance that he was extremely pissed off. I was still sore from the last beating so my mind raced for ways to appease his anger. “I....I was hoping you would come.” My lower lip quivered as he shifted his stance, the black polo shirt tight across his muscular chest.

He cocked his head to the right. “Is that so?” A slight sneer crossed his full lips. “Or were you meeting a lover out here, where no one would ever know?” The handsome mobster moved closer, winding my long brown hair around his hand. “Did you already meet him? Did you play him, or give him what you won’t give me?”

I yelped painfully. “Dom....stop....you’re hurting me.” I closed my eyes when he yanked my head backwards by my hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else,” I tried placating him.

“You lying little bitch!” His face was inches from mine. I could smell the strong scent of cognac on his breath.

Oh, God....He is pissed and drunk. I hoped there would be a way to escape his rage, but I could find none. “Why would I lie?”

He released my hair and slapped me so suddenly that my head wrenched to the side. “I see you looking at me with contempt. I know you don’t want to marry me. You would have many others just to hurt me.”

I could feel my cheek swelling. “I don’t want to marry you,” I spat. “No woman in her right mind would marry someone as sadistic as you! If you didn’t pound on me the way you do. I might feel differently,” I retorted.

He slapped me upside the head, I crumpled to the sandy earth, dizzy, my ear ringing noisily. “You deserve nothing better!” he growled lowly. “Bitch!” He yelled into the evening. “I have put up with you and tolerated your whining about your pains, I am sick of it! I am sick of your lies! It is time, that I teach you a real lesson!” He kicked me in the stomach, hard.

Oh my God, has he gone insane? I rolled to the side as my stomach heaved and uttered a strangled cry. “Stop!”

He seized me by the front of my shirt. “Stop?! Goddamn you! You do not tell me what to do!”

My vision swam after his fist made contact with my jaw. He’s gonna kill me. I am going to die.

I grew lightheaded, feeling those large hands wrapping around my throat. I closed my eyes, a red wave passing over me. Is that a breeze that I feel? I do not want to die. My throat ached, as my lungs begged for air.

Oh bonny lad, I do pray....
To be with you, both night and day....
Dearest love, come to me soon...
To seal our love, hear my rune...
Out of the mists
you will come
and rescue me
from despair.......

I was losing consciousness. I couldn’t die! I just couldn’t. I was too young, I needed to survive!

I could no longer scream for a person needed oxygen to scream. My nearly numb hand slid to the back of his pants where I knew he kept a switchblade. I thanked God that he was drunk and wasn’t aware, his hands slackening enough that I took several short breaths through my nose.

Dizzily, I flicked the switchblade open and took a deep breath. I held it behind his back, inhaling and exhaling slowly, my eyes opening to meet his. He was wearing a dreamy expression, his body now pressed tautly against mine. Beating me had turned him on, I realized, sickened. It was well beyond kinky, it was perverse and frightening.

“Still defiant?” He crooned, his lips inches above mine.

“I was never defiant.” My voice was barely above a whisper, I was fearful that he had damaged my vocal chords.

“Fucking bitch!” His hands were squeezing the bruised flesh once again. “If I have to kill you, I will!”

A tremendous wind began to blow, tossing sand into my eyes. “NO!” I tried to scream, trying to gather my courage. Help me....someone. It was then, that the wind spoke to me, in a deep, pleasant voice. “Ye ken what ye must do. Do it, lass.....I’ll be wi’ ye soon.....”

I was filled with unexpected valor. I brought the blade from his right temple to the left side of his jaw, he screamed, yet he did not release me.

I panicked and jabbed the knife into his throat, ignoring the blood that mixed with my own. With pure adrenaline rushing through my veins, I shoved him off of me, stood painfully and started to run.

I had no idea where my strength came from. I only knew I had to get away from Dominic.

I thanked God that the whole Varadicci clan was attending some kind of party that evening. It made it very easy to slip into the mansion and to my room.

I made quick work of packing my large, camping backpack with clothing, my many medications, a first aid kit, and all my expensive jewelry, which I knew I could pawn somewhere. I looked at the bed and placed the large package in there as well.

I needed actual cash, I decided. I had one thousand dollars in my purse, but I knew, in the long run, it wouldn’t get me very far. I took a deep breath and went down the hall, entering Dom’s bedroom. He had the tendency to leave money around his room.

I really lucked out. I found several large wads of bills. I paid no attention to how much cash I obtained, I was in a hurry.

After I finished my thievery, my conscience began to eat at me. I had killed a man and I stole from him. Tears coursed down my cheeks, but I continued my quest for escape something deep inside kept driving me to continue.

For the next hour, I walked along the shoulder of the highway, deciding it would be best to flee to the mountains. My body protested painfully, begging me for rest, but I forced myself onward, ignoring the vehicles that sped past me.

The backpack weighed heavily down on my small five-foot-four frame, I bit my lip, knowing now, that my ribs were broken. I wanted to sleep...I needed to sleep and I couldn’t.

A semi-truck pulled onto the shoulder ahead of me, the driver waving an arm. The passenger door popped open. I walked faster, common sense taking a vacation as fatigue took control of my decision making. I hurried to the passenger’s side and peered up and into the vehicle.

The driver, a man in his late forties, smiled down at me with cracked broken teeth. “Where you headed, girly?”

“The mountains,” I answered vaguely, tiredly.

“Well, git in, then,” he responded, his southern accent thick.

I climbed up and into the truck, slamming the door as I nestled into the seat. “Thank you,” I whispered gratefully.

He rubbed his pot belly, then started to drive. “Too late for a little girl to be walkin’ all by her lonesome self,” he commented.

My mind raced for a feasible explanation. “I’m meeting someone up in the mountains.”

“Yor all bloody.”

“I was attacked,” I murmured sleepily, recalling the package in my backpack, I couldn’t wait to open it.....I drifted off to sleep....I saw a red haired man, his eyes bluer than any sapphire, he smiled at me and gathered me into his lap....

Oh bonny lad, I do pray....
To be with you, both night and day....
Dearest love, come to me soon...
To seal our love, hear my rune..
Out of the mists
you will come
and rescue me
from despair.......
United.
Aye, we are one
Two kindred souls....
Oh have I yearned!
Join with--

I awoke with a startled gasp. “No!” I cried out, my voice only a small mew, my throat raw and sore.

“Ah know what you is, liar. Yo’re runnin’ from yor pimp. I’ll take good care of yuh.” The driver was fondling and squeezing my breasts.

I gagged, sickened. In the moonlight, he was utterly grotesque with his cracked teeth, bald head, and reptilian like eyes. I squirmed backwards, trying to unlock the passenger door.

He slapped my hands. “Come on, missy, I’ll pay yuh real good. My big juicy cock is throbbin for your snatch.” He settled himself on top of me.

Revolted by the man, and his dirty talk, I reached for a bit more inner strength and jabbed my knee into his groin. He yowled like a horny coyote and cupped himself. Quickly, I unlocked the door and leaped out onto the rocky earth and scrambled towards the brush area, I wasn’t far from the mountains, in fact, I was near the base.

“I’ll get you fer that yuh fuckin’ slut!” I heard him bellow. I glanced back and saw that he was running after me.

“Shit,” I whimpered, finding a well worn trail. My body was a mass of pain as I ran, almost blindly, along the mountain trail. I wanted to rest and heal, I felt so physically worn that I feared I would die from exhaustion.

Several minutes later, I looked over and saw that I was no longer being chased. Panting, I slowed to a walk, wondering how I was able to stay upright.

Noticing several large boulders, I stepped off the trail and walked towards them, deciding that would be a safe enough place to rest for the night. I removed my backpack and nestled myself between two of the huge rocks.

My hands trembled as I withdrew the large package. Excitedly, I ripped it open to study the contents. On top, was a brief note.

Tracy,

I’m having a great time here though I wish you were here, too.
As for what I sent you. The rock that I sent you is no ordinary
rock. It came from Stonehenge! Now, my dear friend, you hold
a piece of very ancient history. I actually chipped it off of one of
the biggest there. See how far I go for you? I could have been
burned to the stake for you. Anyway, that raggy piece of cloth
is from a real tartan, hard to tell from which clan judging how
filthy and worn it is, but I had the feeling you would enjoy that
too. The blanket or plaid as the Scots call it, I purchased as it was
made. Thought you would absolutely love the bright red in there
and the woman who sold it to me, guaranteed that it wouldn’t
make you itch! Well, guess I should close for now. I hope you’re
doing ok. As soon as I can, I will get you away from that stinking
bastard and help you find a new life. As for me....well, I’ll tell you about Maggie later.

Love always,
Johnny

Tears clung to my eyelashes, would I ever see Johnny again? I leaned against a boulder, my body so sore, it was numb. I studied the rock and tattered piece of tartan, wondering why the stone was so warm. I wrapped myself in the blanket, wrapping the now very hot rock inside the small torn fabric, gripping it in both hands.

My eyes closed as the heat radiated through my entire being. I closed my eyes and once again, words filled my head and I sang them aloud.

“Oh bonny lad, I do pray....
To be with you, both night and day....
Dearest love, come to me soon...
To seal our love, hear my rune...
Out of the mists
you will come
and rescue me
from despair.......
United.
Aye, we are one
Two kindred souls....
Oh have I yearned!
Join with me in song
Embrace me with your love
Fill my heart with courage....
Fill my nights with love.
Oh bonny lad, I do pray...
Come to me now.....
With no more delay.”

The wind began blow hysterically, a battle cry filling my ears. My eyes opened, my mouth forming a little “o” as A lightning bolt hit, yards away, blinding me for several moments.

The wind grew calm, with it, I heard. “Are ye a witch?”

My vision cleared and I blanched when my gaze spotted the speaking figure, then, I fainted.

Part Two

The faint smell of mannish sweat filled my nostrils as a cool, wet cloth was placed on my forehead. My body pulsated with pain. I forced my eyes to open. Cat-like deep blue eyes, studied me with mild humor mixed with concern. “Who....?” I rasped out and winced. My throat ached.

“Be still, lass,” he commanded in a soft, thick, Scottish brogue. He leaned forward, examining my throat.

I fought a shiver as long red hair spilled against my face. I peered up at him, worrying about his intentions.

“I wouldna hurt a wee lass...” He spoke gently as if he were speaking to an injured animal. His fingertips glided over my throat. “D’ye know who did this to ye?”

I tried to speak, but I could not, my throat was excessively sore. I nodded, feeling guilt wash over me when I realized what I had done to Dominic. My eyes filled with tears. “Oh God,” I mouthed, horrified.

His eyes met mine. “Och, lass, d’ye find me so revolting?”

My mouth opened with amazement. I shook my head, laughing silently. I knew then, that he wouldn’t harm me.

He grinned broadly. “Now. Are ye a witch?”

I shook my head.

“Then why am I here? Where is here?” He made a sound deep within his throat. “Why am I asking ye this when ye canna talk?”

I grabbed for my backpack, knowing I had a couple of pens and notebooks in one of the zippered pockets. I found them and tried to sit up, blushing when I felt a heavy muscled arm wrap around my shoulders. “Ye can read and write?” His tone was filled with surprise.

I nodded, faintly surprised over his surprise. I removed the cap from the pen and held it poised over the notebook paper.

“Ye write wi’ that?” His tone was filled with awe.

I blinked, wondering if Scotland still had some primitive areas and wrote:
Who are you?

His chest puffed up as he leaned me against him. His muscles were more sinewy than most of the men I knew. “James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser,” he announced with pride.

I floundered. Was that name supposed to mean something to me? I searched frantically in my mind, but, the only Fraser I had heard of, died about two centuries ago. Nice to meet you, James. I was grateful I had legible hand writing.

“Jamie,” he corrected. “Who are you, lass? Where am I? This doesna feel like Scotland or France.”

I thought for a few minutes and began to write. I’m Tracy Doll. And you are in Albuquerque, New Mexico....in the mountains. I have no idea how you got here, you could be playing tricks on me... You weren’t there and then you came. Had I not felt his solid presence, I would have thought him to be some kind of oddball hallucination.

He sighed heavily, remaining silent for several minutes. I began to think that perhaps he refused to speak until finally, “There is no Stonehenge here.”

I shifted until I could face him, my hand was aching as I held the pen. “What in the world are you talking about?” I managed to whisper.

“You shouldna strain your voice.”

“Easier than writing. Tell me what you mean.”

“Mmph,” he grunted deep in his throat and then a realization covered his face. “What year is this?”

I wondered if he was on drugs, dismissing the fact that he appeared out of nowhere. I decided to humor him and wrote: 2000.

His eyes went wide. “This canna be...I wasna e’en near the stones!” He caught my own look of disbelief. “Dinna be thinkin’ what ye are thinkin’....`Twas seventeen fifty-three.....”

“Impossible,” I rasped. “Things like that, just don’t happen.”

“But they do,” he chided gently. “It happened to Claire.....”

“Who is Claire?”

He closed his eyes, deep in thought.

Burkesfield Intelligence

Elliott Granger pushed away the telescope. “Amazing!” He rewound the tape. “Just look, Louis, and you shall see!” He pointed to the screen.

Louis DelMonte, born skeptic, watched the scene unfold, his lips pressed together. The lone woman, the bright flash, and then the appearance of the tall man. He sank into the nearest chair. “Unbelievable.” He ran fingers through his thinning hair.

“I could scarcely believe it myself!”

“Get the group together. I want them both. This could be the breakthrough we’ve been looking for....” This could make me a very wealthy man.

Jamie finally spoke. “Claire was my wife,” he answered quietly.

“Was? I’m so sorry....” I whispered.

“Spare yer voice, lass, and write,” he grunted.

I pouted but knew he was correct. Tell me about Claire? What does she have to do with your so-called seventeen fifteen-three?

“I’ve no reason to lie.” He gave me a look that made me squirm. “She came across to my time. `Twas seventeen forty-three....She was from nineteen forty-three. A bonny lass she was...though, she was English.” He made a face.

It was no wonder, I knew how much the Scottish and English hated one another. I wanted to believe him, people didn’t appear out of nowhere. I waited for him to continue.

He pulled in a breath, his gaze steady with mine. “She came through the circle o’ stones....`tis how she left as well....”

His deep blue gaze was so intense that I needed to look away. My eyes rested on the rock and piece of tartan Johnny had given me. I picked them up and seized the pen once more. My friend went to Scotland. He sent me these. The stone is from Stonehenge!!!!

He took the tartan into his left hand and examined it closely. “See this?” He traced the pattern of the plaid. “`Tis from the Clan Fraser.” He fondled the fabric of his kilt. “My clan....” His gaze caught mine once again. “You need to believe what I am tellin’ ye.”

I blinked sleepily. Intuition told me he was telling the truth while my mind focused on the impossibilities of his tale.

He placed a hand on his heart. “I vow to ye, lass, that I am speaking the truth.”

I nodded. What reason would he have to lie? I reasoned. What other explanation could there be? I watched him stand and tower over me. His skin was too pale to have been in this climate, unless he were like me and used a great deal of sun block. His accent was definitely authentic. And something I couldn’t quite place. His behavior would hardly be considered modern, either. “Where are you going?” I spoke very softly.

He flushed in the moonlight. “I need to make use of the bushes.” He smiled again. His smile was so warm, filled with good humor and impishness.

I found myself smiling despite the sleepiness that invaded my aching body.

He returned a few minutes later. “You need sleep,” he observed.

I nodded, leaning uncomfortably against the rock.

He harrumphed and sat behind me, pulling me into his arms. “Foolish lass, ye’ll catch your death of cold leaning against that. I reckon I’m a wee bit softer than a rock, no?” He pulled the blanket Johnny had sent over us. “I dinna usually do this for strange lassies, but it seems ye are verra hurt.” He pushed my bangs from my eyes and stroked my cheek, his voice was low and soothing.

He made me feel like a protected fragile doll, and I was filled with gratitude as I snuggled against his large solid form. Soon, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

I woke to a voice. “Well well, what have we here.....?”

Part Three

I panicked when I realized Jamie wasn’t underneath me any longer. Had he left me to fend for myself? Or had he been just a dream? I opened my eyes, squinting in the bright morning light. “Good morning?” I looked up at a few well-dressed men who were staring down at me.

“Where is he?” A man with thinning hair demanded of me, taking in my bruised appearance with mild disdain.

“Where is whom?” I was grateful that my voice had recovered to a point.

“Don’t play games with us, little girl,” another spoke up. “You both are coming with us.”

I groaned inwardly. My body felt like a giant bruise and my head felt like a drum that had been beaten one too many times. “Who is ‘us’?” I murmured.

Another man grabbed me by the arm. “We ask the questions. Like, why are you covered with dried blood?”

“Let go!” I yelped as the man hauled me to his feet. “Leave me alone!”

I heard a loud thud. The man holding my arm released me and fell, unconscious, to the ground. I gaped in amazement when I saw James Fraser standing there, holding a twine which held several large fish. “Run, lass!” he commanded.

I burst into giggles as I quickly grabbed my backpack. Who would have ever thought to attack a person with fish?

“Hurry!” Jamie bellowed as a few men closed in on his tall, muscular form.

I started to run, hearing shouts and the pounding of flesh. My body protested each jarring step, but I was rewarded when I reached a truck. “Burkesfield Intelligence” was written on the door. “Fuck,” I whispered, hesitating for only a few seconds. “Great. Dirty scientists.” I yanked the door open slid into the driver’s seat and started the truck.

I had only driven a stick-shift a few times in my life and it showed when the truck jerked forward when I released the clutch. Hastily, I yanked on the seat belt. I looked forward and saw that Jamie had knocked out a few of our assailants. He stood there, red hair fanning in the breeze, it gave him a mythical countenance.

From the corner of my eye, I spied a man withdrawing a gun. “I don’t think so!” I growled and drove fast. The man dived to the side and tumbled down a small embankment.

I stopped near Jamie and opened the passenger door. “Jamie! Get in!” I cried out.

“What is this thing?!” he demanded.

“No time for that. Get in...Please????” I saw one man stirring already. “We need to get the hell outta here.”

He made another growly “Mmphm” sound in the back of his throat and climbed in, closing the passenger door with a loud bang.

Despite the nasty ache in my ribs, I maneuvered the truck away from the others, gunned the engine and started for the highway. “Okay....I am willing to buy that you are from another time.” I whimpered with each jostle the truck gave.

“Buy?” He looked perplexed as he touched the glove box, stick shift, and the dashboard. “How does this work? I see no horses.”

I glanced at him, still trying to watch the road, but I did notice his eyelashes. They were darker at the tips but gold near the roots. I looked forward to he time I could study him in the light. “I’m not a car or truck expert, but this runs on gas.”

“Belly gas?” he exclaimed, aghast. “Ye break wind to make this work?”

“No...no....no...,” I fought laughter, not wanting to hurt myself further. “Might be more economic that way, but gas.....well....it’s a liquid, really..... The truck burns the gas to continue forward.....” I wasn’t sure if I was explaining things correctly, but it didn’t matter, he turned on the radio, full volume. “JAMIE!”

He fell back against the seat blocking his ears, his face white with fright.

I turned down the volume, listening to Billy Idol’s low, seductive voice as her growled out “White Wedding”. “Jamie, this is a radio. It plays music for everyone to hear.”

“How does the man fit inside there?” He bristled, his jaw set angrily.

I sighed. “I will explain everything I can in due time, but I certainly don’t have the answers to how everything in this world works. That’s what books are for.”

“Aye.” He heaved a sigh. “D’ye know who those men were?”

I gave a grim nod, wincing, my ribs were aching worse and worse, there was no power steering in the truck. “Burkesfield Intelligence.” I scowled. “For some reason, those sons of bitches keep getting funds to perform their dirty deeds.” When I saw his confusion, I explained further while he entertained himself by rolling the windows up and down. “They are a group of scientists....or a type of doctor...but the scientists of this particular group, are evil.

“They’ve purchased babies from unwed mothers and done horrible testing on them. They chase after anything that is out of the ordinary, and when they catch who, or whatever it is.....God help them.

“They have claimed that there is a race of human beings that cannot die.....that there are people who have psionic power and stuff. They lure people there....” I shook my head sadly.

The man’s expression was little more than cold granite at the moment. I was glad to know he took the situation seriously, not enough people did. “I’ll no’ be an experiment.”

“They’d first want to know how you got here. I’m wondering that myself.” I took a left, heading for a stream as my mind began forming plans. The first thing I needed to do was bathe in the stream and wash that blood off.

“I reckon that stone had something to do wi’ it.” He scratched the reddish stubble on his chin.

“It got really hot when I touched it and held it,” I informed him, parking, with difficulty, by the stream. “But after that, it was cold.”

“Why did ye stop?” he questioned.

“I need to take a bath before we get into a town. Would look awfully suspicious with this blood on me... When we get to town, I’ll buy another truck and leave this one for those assholes to find. I just hope I don’t get arrested for grand theft autoh” I muttered as I opened the door.

Jamie’s hand on my arm stopped me. “Where did the blood come from?”

I faced him. “I--I....Well see....my fiancè wash again, accusing me of being with another man. I wasn’t though...I’m not like that.” I lowered my tear filled eyes. “He was drunk and he started to hurt me....He has done that so much. He tried to strangle me and I found his knife....I was so scared he was going to kill me.” I choked on a sob. “I cut his face.....then pushed the knife into.....” I could no longer speak, for my body was convulsing with uncontrollable sobs.

Strong arms encircled me as foreign words filled my ears as James Fraser pulled me onto his lap.

I buried my face deep within the folds of his shirt and released my pent up emotions. “I didn’t want to kill him,” I murmured between sobs, clinging to him as if he were my only lifeline.

“Ye did what ye had to do,” he soothed, his Scottish brogue so vibrant, so real, so right in my ears. He was so large, so strong, yet so gentle in the way that he held me.

I cried until I was limp. “Does....Doesn’t it make me a murderess? I could go to jail....or worse....”

“`Twas defense,” he reasoned. “I’ve had to kill many. It doesna make me a murderer.”

“You were a warrior, weren’t you?” I pulled from his grasp to face him with blurry eyes.

“I reckon.” He shrugged. “It doesna matter. Ye were protectin’ yerself.”

“The cops might not see it that way.” I sighed shakily. “Cops are the ones that bring people to jail, they are supposed to keep the peace....Fat lot good they do.”

He snorted. “Then the ‘cops’ will be wantin’ my hide in jail.”

“You didn’t kill anyone.....Certainly didn’t kill me.”

“I kilt one o’ those....Scientists ye called them?”

“Oh man.....” I groaned and suddenly began to laugh almost tearfully. “Cripes, we are on the run from the law....My foster mother said I was destined to do that.”

“We’ll be fine,” he stated simply.

“We? This means you’ll be coming with me?”

“I reckon. Ye seem to need my help. Besides, ye ken this time, I dinna.”

I was thankful for those historical romance novels that took place in older Scotland, it was easier to under stand what he meant. “Thanks,” I said with all sincerity.

“Weel, lass. Will ye kindly take that bath? I’m gettin’ hungry.”

“Yeah, sure....Wait here....stay by the truck. And don’t play with anything,” I cautioned as I pulled a change of clothes from my backpack, followed by a bar of soap and shampoo.

His eyes narrowed, it was apparent he didn’t like being told what to do.

“Umm....” I watched him nervously. “You could use a bath, too.”

“That isna decent!” He declared with surprise.

“Sorry. Forgot you are an old fashioned barbarian,” I teased and then slid out of the truck.

I stepped behind some bushes and shed myself of the dirty clothing, praying the mountain stream would not be too unbearably cold. Once naked, I slipped into the water, which wasn’t as cold as I feared it would be. “Jamie!” I called, realizing I left the soap and shampoo on the shoreline.

Suddenly, he was there. It was as if he had materialized out of nowhere. “Aye lass?” Soundlessly, he walked to the shoreline.

I was more than impressed by his fluid grace and decided cats would be envious of the way he moved. “I need the soap, please.”

He bent over, grabbed the soap, and the straightened. My breath caught in my throat. His red hair was brilliant in the sun. He looked so....beautiful standing there so proud, so tall. His physique was like none I had ever seen. He was so muscular, yet, he wasn’t weighed down like the men of today. He was pure sinewy, rock hard muscle...A real man. He tossed the soap to me.

I caught the soap with shaking hands. I was no longer feeling the coolness of the stream for an unusual warmth filled my limbs. He put his back to me, offering me privacy as I stepped into shallower water to soap my entire body. Dreamily, I began to soap myself, suddenly imagining him helping me with the chore. My knees weakened and I forced my thoughts elsewhere. Lusting after a man like James Fraser, was dangerous, especially when he had a Claire elsewhere. A Claire he was married to.

WAS is the key word, you dolt. I fought to ignore that inner voice, for I knew if I listened, I would easily fall in love with Jamie. Why? I wasn’t sure. There was something about him that made me long for his arms around me. It struck me as strange.....I was never much into redheads.

I rinsed off my body and stepped into deeper water once more. “Catch, Jamie!” I called out, aiming the peach colored bar towards his back in a playful manner.

Effortlessly, he turned and caught the slippery soap in his left hand, chuckling. “Are ye comin’ out now?”

“Not yet. I need you to toss me that bottle of shampoo.”

“What is shampoo?” he demanded.

“It’s special soap for the hair,” I explained. “And it’s right by your foot.”

He muttered something and tossed me the bottle which hit the water just behind me. I turned and watched it bob back up to the surface, then I grabbed it, ducking under the water’s surface to saturate my hair. When I resurfaced, Jamie was gone. I grew paranoid as I shampooed my hair. What if he had been been lying? What if he drove off in the truck and left me stranded?

My stomach tightened as I began to imagine him driving away, laughing wickedly. I quickly rinsed my hair and hurried to the shoreline hurrying towards the truck.

“What are ye doin’?” The handsome redhead demanded as I collided into his brick like chest.

“What are you doing?” I retorted.

“I brought ye this so ye could dry off.” He wrapped my blanket around me.

“Oh......thank you....” I felt like an ass as I fetched my clean clothing. Hurriedly, I dried off, quickly pulling on my panties and then my bra. “Jamie?”

“Hmm?”

He was so close, I had to wonder if he was spying on me. “What should I do with these bled on clothes?”

“Hand them to me,” he instructed.

Clad in satin and lace purple panties and matching bra, I stepped out from the bushes and handed him the blood stained clothing.

The look in his eyes made me flush with pleasure. I knew he thought I was pretty, he liked what he saw as his gaze took in every part of me, it did wonders for my fragile self-esteem.

He cleared his throat and looked away. “Ye have many bruises, lass.....I do hope that isna the extent of your clothing.” He adopted a father-like tone with me.

I smiled, I mean really smiled. It made me feel ecstatic that he found me attractive. “These are my underclothes,” I explained. “Compared to what other women wear nowadays, this is considered modest.”

His face and neck flushed a deep red. “Get dressed, lass.”

I did so, smelling smoke. When I stepped from the bushes, I saw that Jame had quickly created a make shift fire pit. “Are you cooking something?”

“Nay. Burning yer clothes.”

“Thought you said you were hungry?”

“I am.” He chuckled softly. “As soon as I am finished, ye can cook for me.”

I fought laughter. “We can get something when we are on the road again.”

He made a face. “I dinna take kindly to eatin’ raw animals or rocks, lass.”

“It’s an expression. There are plenty of restaurants--inns without bedrooms--that we can get food from... While we are at it, we need to get you something to wear.”

He put out the fire. “I have clothes.”

I shook my head. “I, myself, do not mind the kilt in the least, but we do need to fit in, and kilts aren’t exactly New Mexican fashion....nor anywhere in the United States.... More’s the pity if you ask me.”

His eyes crinkled and he smiled. “Thank ye.” He sobered once more. “Aye, I will do what I can to fit in. Trouble is, this time o’ yours is verra different from m’ time.”

I touched his arm. “Well, I guess that’s why we are here together. Shall we go?”

“Aye.”

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