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A True Scotsman

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 It had been close to a year now since her accident, but on cold winter nights like this she couldn't help but remember the freezing pull of the water as her car submerged into that icy river. Now, wrapped in one of Jamie's old sweatshirts, Claire shivered at the thought of those dark hours where she faded in and out. Shaking off the feeling, she snuggled deeper under the duvet, picked up her book, Botany for Gardeners , and waited on Jamie to finish up his shower. 

Claire was so caught up in her reading she hadn't even heard Jamie turn off the shower. It was only when she went to turn the page that she noticed her naked husband standing with his back to her, hair damp and towel mussed, digging through their dresser. 

Sliding her reading glasses to the tip of her nose she took full advantage of her view and let her eyes roam over Jamie's toned backside. 

Damn Beauchamp, you know how to pick ‘em.

As if he could feel her eyes on her, Jamie peeked over his shoulder and caught her right as her gaze fell to his arse.

“Ye enjoying the view back there lass?” Jamie smirked.

“Mmhmm verra much.” She teased. Knowing full well what her poor Scots imitation would do to him.

Jamie was one to talk though. As soon as he saw her sitting there, devouring him with her amber eyes, glasses seductively slid down her slender nose and her nipples visibly standing to attention under HIS sweatshirt, he felt his cock twitch immediately.

Damn Fraser, ye’re one lucky bastard.

Without giving his search for boxers another thought, he abandoned the dresser. Staring at her with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine, he took three long strides back to their bed and  climbed on top of Claire. He stretched his entire length over her, pressing her deep into the mattress and even through the duvet that separated them, she could feel him hard against her hip. 

“Jamie, you're crushing me!” she shrieked with laughter, nudging him off her. 

Jamie gave a groan in protest and kissed her on the nose before rolling off her and onto his belly beside her. Closing his eyes, he rested on his pillow with a pout.

Claire immediately regretted not relishing in his weight upon her. He was like her own personal weighted blanket, the comforting pressure of his solid frame securing her to him. Rolling onto her side, she propped herself up on her elbow and let her eyes roam over the golden plains and ridges of his body for the second time that night. When her eyes landed on his arse she couldn't help but let out a giggle.

Jamie peeked an eye open, “Are ye laughing at my arse, Sassenach?”

“No.” She pleaded through a fit of giggles. “Well not at your arse just now . I was thinking about our wedding day,” she looked up at him, biting her bottom lip to keep from giggling anymore.

Jamie felt his cheeks warm as he flushed at the memory. Their wedding day had and would forever be one of the happiest days of his life. It was a beautiful day and everything had gone off without a hitch. Well everything except one thing…



June 16th, 2018 

Long before they were engaged they had decided to bypass the chaos of a big fancy wedding and just have an intimate outdoor ceremony. So when one mildly sunny June day showed up, they simply packed up their small wedding party and took to the Highlands, Jamie and the lads headed a wee bit early to prepare the spot. Murtagh officiated the wedding, insisting they didn't need some stuffy old priest, even if it meant he had to take one of those online classes. Ian was the best man, and wee Jamie Murray was just along for the ride. 

Geillis stepped up as Claire's maid of honor, since Jenny had designated herself the official photographer.

“Ye listen to me Jamie Fraser, I’ll no have my baby brother, my only brother, practically elope to the Highlands and not have a single photo te show fer it. Do ye understand me?” Jenny had argued.

Suzette drove the lasses up a little while after the lads left so Claire could get ready and surprise Jamie with the only thing she had planned for this wedding, her dress. It had been her mothers and was something she had always known she would wear on her own wedding day.

Jamie's breath caught in his throat the moment she came into sight down the makeshift aisle of heather. He was sure his heart would beat right through his chest.

Lordt, ye’ve given me a rare woman. And by God I intend to love her well.

He hadn't even realised he'd started crying until a firm nudge broke his trance, and Murtagh was standing beside him offering a handkerchief.

“Thank ye, a ghoistigh,” he whispered, taking the handkerchief only to put it in his pocket. A single piece of clothtissue was no match for the love that continued to flow down his face. 

I’ll no hide from her. By God she’s beautiful.

“Mo Sorcha,” he breathed.

Claire made her way down the aisle, her curls blowing wildly all about her face as the wind swept underneath her veil. The sun was shining just enough to make the silver stitching in her satin gown shimmer, like the sun glistening across a running river. He felt his heart clench a bit when he saw it was her mothers dress she was wearing. She held a simple posy of forget-me-nots and thistles, tied together with a strip of Fraser tartan. 


Just as Claire was making her final steps towards Jamie, a strong gust of wind blew across the hilltop, blowing the back of Jamie's kilt up, giving Claire and everyone in attendance a spectacular view of the ‘true Scotsman’ underneath. Claire stopped just in front of Jamie, and tried her best not to laugh at her groom, who'd quickly righted the upturned garment. For one quiet moment no one dared to say a thing. The only evidence left of the moment were the crimson tips of Jamie's ears, peeking out from under his curls. 


But then the silence was shattered with a loud, “ARSE! Unkie Jammie I saw yer arse!” Wee Jamie squealed as his father scooped him up and tried to hush him. 

Claire couldn't hold it in any longer, she burst into laughter nearly losing her balance in the process. Jamie caught her quickly and pulled her close, muffling her giggles with his chest. Overcome by the sight of his bride filled with joy, no matter that it was at his expense, Jamie had no choice but to follow her into hysterics.

“Och weel Claire, now ye ken what ye’ve got te look forward to tonight!” Murtagh howled as he slapped his godson on the shoulder affectionately. Sending Jamie and Claire bursting into a second fit of laughter.





Jamie had manuvred Claire out from under the duvet as they had recounted their wedding day, and was skillfully working his sweatshirt up her waist, kissing his way up her abdomen as she came down from her laughter.

“Poor Murtagh never did understand why that was so funny!” she gasped through the giggles.


Placing one last kiss on the scar just below her now bare breast, Jamie looked up at his wife and grinned. 

“Tis because ye are a lady Sassenach, and Murtagh kent well ye were marrying a virgin.”

“Oh I might have married a virgin my love, but you were no monk. In fact I distinctly remember the time you and I-” Jamie cut her off with a deep kiss that stole her breath.

“No monk indeed. And aye, I remember well, but just in case, why don't I refresh yer memory?” Jamie grinned as he started kissing his way back down her torso.


“Definitely not a mm-” was all Claire could gasp before Jamie’s mouth reached its destination and she dissolved into a burst of pleasure.