"So, what did they subject you to?" I murmur, taking off my shoes slowly. Symon removes his plaid, sighing.

"Gaelic, mostly. We went over the my ancestral clan- well... I guess, my clan now."

"Greer said it would take too long to teach me Gaelic- what with the southern accent and all."

He smirks. "I doubt you took that well."

"I didn't take most of the day well, to be honest."

"This is our life, at least for the time being."

"What if it doesn't have to be?"

He looks at me squarely, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Greer and her husband live in the place up the hill. They have the stone- or at least some of it. We know that."

"What if they used the last on us?"

"This is a family tradition for them. They have to have more or at least- have something that says where it's at. We find it and we can get home. To our normal lives."

"... What if I want this life?"

My hands freeze on the bed sheets and I look up at him, stunned. "Do you?"

"Well, it's obviously important that I'm here- that I do what I'm meant to do. I have- a meaning... I have power here."

A chuckle escapes my lips and I nod, understanding. "Always so power hungry. Tell me, have they told you yet that's a family trait?"

"Gillian, you need to control yourself in this time. I know you're not used to it but a woman doesn't speak out the way you do against a man. That just doesn't happen here."

"I know, a women is supposed to be weak and obedient. I'm supposed to go starry-eyed at the fact that you're all-powerful and bow down. Well, that isn't me! I will not be treated less than I deserve, which is why I ended things the night of that party."

"Much good that did you."

"Yes, much good it did me!"

Slamming his hand down on the table, his eyes pierce through my skin, ablaze with rage. "Look, Gillian, come with me or not. I really don't care!"

I close my mouth as he reminds me once again, without even knowing it, why I'm fighting with him in the first place. I'm replaceable to him. Have been since I met him.

And suddenly, I finally feel like I'm in the 18th century. Forced to shut my mouth and comply for the sake of my future. I lay down onto the pillow and curl up, facing the gray wall, waiting for him to blow out the candle.

When he does, I flinch at the fact that apart of me still believed he would reassure me that my life with him will not be one of longing, one of fear, one of inconsistency. But I'm smarter than that.

He doesn't want to be tied down to me forever anymore than I do him and that's our reality.

...

"Your ready for this, Gillian. I've told ye everything I ken."

I nod, touching the stallion's black hair, knowing she's right. The days quickly passed- before I even realized it, we'd been here weeks. Symon and I grew apart gradually, mostly due to never being around one another.

He spent his days learning weaponry and different clan customs- how to speak their language while I spent my days in Greer's botanical gardens and stuffy kitchens, learning things women are supposed to. To my shame, I've grown more tired, more resigned as the days have passed- accepting of this life, as I have to.

Knox pats Symon's back warmly as they approach us slowly, chuckling. Symon's now got his plaid wrapped around his shoulder and a sword at his waist. He doesn't look so detached from this life anymore- he looks very much apart of it. As if he was always meant to be.

"I know you're troubled now, Gill but remember my reading... Remember what I told ye."

"Thank you," I whisper, feeling as scared as the day I woke up in this place. I'm leaving the only person I've ever gotten to know here, the person who brought me here, no less.

I'm on my own now.

Symon reaches out his hand, already mounted onto the horse and waiting.

"Remember ye need to be mindful. You're headed to Moy castle. It's only a couple hours ride."

I heave myself up with Symon's help, settling behind him. Symon nods, grabbing the reins. "Thank you."

"Write to us, if you feel inclined." She's staring at me when she says it and I nod, smiling softly, comforted as Symon presses his heels into the horse, clicking his tongue and the horse moves, to his command.

We ride the hours in silence, even in the rain. Unable to help it, I press my face into the fabric of his plaid, freezing.

"Can I ask you something?" I whisper.

"Yes," he answers, after a moment.

"How do you know where you're going?"

"Knox and I took the route a couple days ago."

"Oh."

"Yes."

I pull my knitted shawl in tighter, shivering. "And how exactly will people take to us just showing up? I mean, they've never seen us before. Clansmen are not inviting to outsiders."

"They will greet us warmly. They've not seen the kinsman to the man who was supposedly my father...Well, Lachlan Macintosh's father."

"Lachlan?"

"My name now."

"What?"

"The man is dead- I will be taking his place, as him."

I gape, eyes wide at his back as we jostle forward over the rough terrain. "Won't they know?"

"They've not seen him since he was a child. He was sent for schooling- to educate himself until the day would come when he would be laird."

"... What happened to him?"

He glances back, straight-lipped. "You don't need to concern yourself with that."

"Oh, great. So we're already keeping secrets and we've not even gotten there yet?" I question disapprovingly, knowing full well he's my only source of security right now. If he loses trust in me, I'll be defenseless and alone here.

"You don't need to know what happened to him, Gillian. Just leave it at that. He's dead and I am him. You will call me by that name from now on- in private. Publicly, it is custom you call me laird or chief Macintosh, alright?"

I smile in odd disbelief, glad he can't see my face. "Yes, I understand."

"They will be expecting my arrival. Of course, it isn't custom for you to be with me- since we are not married. But, you will live in the castle."

I swallow, looking down. "Thank you."

My eyes fix on his hand wrapped around the knife on his belt before drifting up to the side profile of his face- a face that's still young and inexperienced. From what I know of Symon's past, his father left his mother when they were very young. He's come up from nothing and made something of his life- but it's been through education. Through years and years of schooling.

This is something else entirely. Nothing could have prepared him for it. I just hope he knows what he's doing or we'll both be killed.

"I- know things have been strange between us lately, Gillian."

I remain quiet but nod to myself.

"... I care about you though. I want to see that you're safe, even despite what our relationship status may be."

"Thank you, Symon-"

"Lachlan."

"Right, Lachlan... Well, it means a lot to me to hear you say it."

"You've always known that I've cared for you... However, you've never really made it clear of what-what you felt for me."

"I care about you too," I whisper, swallowing loudly. "I just don't know if we're what's best for each other."

"Well, right now, I think we are, all things considering. I don't want to be alone in this."

I reach forward, feeling a warmness in my chest and rest my hand over his on the reins. "You're not."

His eyes, dark and tired, seem to warm at the words and he nods, smiling softly before turning his attention back to the vast field we're crossing.

My rear end feels like a porcupines back by the time we approach civilization. I clutch onto Symon's waist unsurely, staring down at the people that begin to stop what they're doing to stare at us- particularly, Symon.

"They look like they know who you are," I whisper, in awe.

"I look a lot like him," he whispers back, carefully.

"H-How do you know that?"

He looks back at me, his brow raised and I feel the blood drain from my face. Jesus Christ.

So distraught by the silent confession given to me solely by his eyes, I don't even notice us approaching the prodigious structure lying ahead before us- Mor Castle. The place that will soon be our new home- if we can convince these people that we actually belong here.

A man, tall, lean with gray stricken hair stops before the horse, looking up at Symon in awe. "My, wee lad... you've aged into a strapping man. Look just like your da, ye do."

"Thank ye, uncle," Symon says, imitating a Scottish slur thickly. I conceal my surprise at Symon's knowledge of this man and bite my lip, clutching Symon's waist tighter to conceal the shaking in my fingers.

"I haven't seen ye for what?"

"I was but six."

The man nods, shaking his head and then, laughs, full-bodily. "Aye, 'tis true, that! Well, off with ye. Come down and let me see how you've grown."

With ridged shoulders, Symon holds out his arm, glancing back at me. It takes me a moment to realize he's gesturing to help me off. Blank-faced, I take it for support and clumsily manage to position myself to slide down.

I gasp slightly when the man grabs ahold of my waist, grabbing my body as if I weighed nothing at all. Feet suddenly planted firmly on the ground, I smile silently at him, nodding as Symon dismounts himself.

The crowd around us, are mostly quiet, listening to the relatives speak while others talk amongst themselves, about what I don't know.

The man, his uncle, looks to me suddenly, raising his brows. "You've brought home a wife, have ye, Lachlan?"

"Nay, uncle. I'm merely helping her in her travels to find her family."

"Aye, well, you're laird. You may do as ye please... Ye must be famished. Come- we've a roast planned after hearing of your arrival."

Symon nods as the man turns, grabbing the reins for the horse, handing them to a boy, covered in dirt from head to toe, and barefoot no less. In fact, many of them are barefoot. Immediately, Symon is bombarded by the people surrounding us, not to harm him- to welcome him.

They've obviously been awaiting his arrival- and wanted it. We walk forward, despite the crowds and as Symon murmurs warm greetings to each one, taking his time smartly, I realize he's been accepted.

For now, we've been accepted.

...

Mouth shut and eyes wide, my gaze lingers on the furniture, on the candlesticks, the tapestries in the parlor as a woman, a maid, scurries back into the room, her hands now full with fabric.

"I'm verra glad I was able to find something with such short notice. It may be a bit large but it'll do for the night."

"Of course, thank you..."

She smiles, her puffy cheeks pink and ablaze. "Miss Ann. Ann to ye, miss."

"Please, call me Gillian- or Gilly. I go by either."

She nods, and I realize she can't be more than eighteen. "Well, here ye go... I'll bring ye up something to fill your belly. You must be down right exhausted."

"I could do with some sleep."

"Good, get some now while ye can. Tonight, there will be a gathering for the return of the laird."

"A gathering?"

"I forgot you're from the colonies... Ye don't have gatherings there?"

"I don't know. What happens in a gathering?"

"Food, drink, dancin'. There'll be another one in about a month or so, when he'll officially take his place as laird and chief of clan Chatton."

"Oh, wow."

"Aye, he'll be a changed man soon. Duties and such."

He already is... Nodding, I sigh heavily. "When will it be?"

"I'll come fetch ye. Bring ye a dress fitting."

"Thank you."

She grabs the door and nods, pulling it open. "Aye, miss Gillian."

I watch her go, shutting the door behind her, leaving me in silence. An eerie silence. My mind is chugging into overdrive, trying to comprehend what Symon's going through right now. Standing, I drop the clean sheer material onto the bed and reach for my laces, still not completely sure how they work yet.

The heavy material drops onto the ground, pillowing awkwardly as I step out from the mound. I remove the undergarment I'm wearing and reach for the other, shivering from the chill of the room.

The material of this shift is softer than the other and I realize- probably more expensive. I grab my dress off the ground and set it onto the end of the bed, before climbing on top.

The size of it is huge- the wide, oak headboard monstrous behind my head as I settle down onto the pillow, thanking my lucky stars to be off that horse and horizontal.

I open my eyes just as soon as I close them. It feels as if no time has gone by- but Ann is back, lighting a fire in the fireplace. I sit up, feeling my bones crack and considering asking if it would be horrible of me to skip this one.

Knowing full well I can't, I smile. "I've never been so exhausted."

"Aye, ridin' will do that to ye. I once rode seven days on horse back- to visit family."

"That must have hurt," I blurt out, rising off the bed with a chuckle. She nods, straightening.

"Aye, it did. Worth it though."

"Where are your family from? You're not a Macintosh?"

"Aye, I am. My aunt and uncle are from the Mackenzie clan though. Come, we must get ye ready. They were already gathering when I left to get you."

She reaches onto the table by the window and holds up a fir-colored dress, simple in it's own way but much more formal than the one I came in with.

"Let's get ye cleaned and dressed, lassie."

...

"Ye look bonny, Gillian. Truly bonny. How do you keep your hair so soft? It's like a feather!"

Smiling at the compliment, I try to conceal my pain as she styles half of it up into a ribbon, catching a knot. "It's pretty knotty, I'd say."

"Nay, you've not seen knots until going through mine, trust me on that."

I look through the mirror, nodding. "You've got nice curls. I always wanted them."

With the brush, she goes over the remaining hair that's still loose and shakes her head. "'Tis a grave hassle. You've been blessed with thick, vibrant locks. Dinnae wish for different... Alright, you're finished."

I stand, sucking in a breath. "Are the laces supposed to be like this?"

"Like what, miss?"

"Suffocating. Tight."

"Oh, aye."

I turn, looking into the mirror and run my hands over the thick material of the gown. Without even knowing it, a small smile appears across my lips, taking in the authenticity of my clothing.

"No man will look at another woman once you're in the room, I can promise ye that," Ann says sweetly, standing behind me. "Not that anyone would dare try to speak with ye knowing you came with the laird."

"There is- nothing between he and I," I say, wishing to stop the gossip before I can even start. "He's just helping me get to my family."

"And where may that be?"

I press my lips together. "Clan, um, Grant."

"Aye? Is that so? I know someone from there. Maybe you know them? Jim and Harriet?"

I blush against my will and look down. "I haven't been there before so I'm afraid I wouldn't know."

She chuckles. "Aye, of course. Stupid of me to ask, really, what- with the accent and all. Is this your first time in Scotland?"

"Yes," I murmur in a low hum. "It's more beautiful than I could have imagined."

"Aye, 'tis. It's the best place in the whole wide world, if I may say so myself."

"You may," I reply, turning to her. "I guess, I should get down there now."

"Aye, ye saw the great hall comin' in?"

I nod, swallowing. "Yes. I know where to go."

"I trust you'll have a grand time, miss."

I grab the door, letting her pass first. "Thanks, Ann. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

My heels click against the stone as I hurry down the dark hallways, so nervous I could literally be sick. I wonder if Symon's told them I'm American- will I? How will they take it?

As I near closer, I hear the music. It's loud and cheery, having to be to be heard amongst the people chatting. My fingers pull on each other in fear as I turn the corner, not stopping for I know I'll turn around.

The room is large- I saw it earlier in the daylight, but there is a presence here now- it looks grander. Most of the crowd are still dirty- dressed in clothes that seem to be used for work but they've smiles the size of a half moon.

I scan the room for Symon- for a familiar face and after a moment, find him at the end of the hall, seated, speaking with the man who proclaimed to be his uncle. I step forward, unsure if I can approach him but awkward standing at the threshold.

Suddenly, mouths begin to close and eyes begin to lock onto my slow moving figure. Men and women alike. I try to smile, although, by the looks of skepticism on their faces, it seems they've already found out my origins.

Through the crowd, I watch Symon stand, gesturing me over. A man I pass by, as tall as a giant, stares down at me, appraising my face, then body. I try to conceal the surprise and hurry forward, glad when the music begins to sound loudly again.

When I approach them, his uncle gasps. "My, you're a beautiful lass."

"Thank you very much," I murmur, slightly out of breath. "I'm sorry, I did not get your name when we arrived?"

"Ah, William Macintosh of Borlum, ma'am."

"I'm glad to meet you," I say, unsure of what else to.

"Here, take a seat beside me," Symon says, pulling out a chair. I smile wide, relieved and nod.

"Thank you." I take a seat, glancing around at the people talking in front of us, gasping softly when someone comes up from behind me, setting down a plate of roast, tatties and haggis, along with bread.

I realize quickly that while I'm next to Symon, he's far too busy to speak to me.

"We must keep him then," I hear him whisper.

"He's the best surgeon in Scotland, Lachlan. We cannot afford to lose him. Your da paid greatly to keep him here."

"Then we will continue. I'll speak to him in the morning... You said he wants to travel home? Where is he from?"

"Mackenzie lad."

"I'll make sure he stays. Where is he now?"

"He rode to Inverness early for supplies. I suspect he stayed the night there."

"Aye."

I eat in silence, leaving the haggis in it's place, unwilling to touch it, drowning out their conversation. After an hour like that and four brandies later, I touch Symon's arm softly and he turns to look at me, as if he had forgotten I was there.

"I- may I be excused?"

"Of course," he murmurs, nodding. I stand at that, setting down my napkin.

"Goodnight."

He and his uncle nod again. "Goodnight."

I hold my hand over the corset as I make my way through the people, wishing I could rip it off right here, right now- I, however, don't think the men and women of this clan would be too pleased- or too surprised. It's common knowledge that they're suspicious of outsiders and consider themselves superior- it's the way they've always thought and been brought up to believe.

"Your dress is lovely, lassie," a young woman says, touching my arm to stop me. Her hair is black, her eyes blue and bright, making her fair complexion appealing.

"Thank you," I whisper, smiling.

"Aye."

I keep moving forward, sighing with relief when I enter a completely empty hallway. I walk slowly towards the east side of the castle, where my room is, imagining what tomorrow will be like- tomorrow and the day after that and the days after that.

What is my life going to be like from now on?

A voiceless lassie who sits beside the laird, eavesdropping on his conversations and excusing myself early to avoid the stares? Is that it for me?

"You're a bonny woman."

By the entrance, I turn, slowly, hearing a slurred voice coming from a chair in the corner. The man is older, his hair brown with gray streaks throughout. His face has many wrinkles, mainly by the sun, making him look older than his age probably.

Without a smile, I turn and continue forward as if I hadn't heard him. I hear him stand suddenly and with force and feel my heart begin to pound violently through my chest. Oh no.

"You've got no manners? Maybe your parents should of taught ye some in the colonies- or did they have none either?"

"Sir, I'm sorry if I offended you but I am a woman in a dark hallway- with a man who's about to fall flat on his face from alcohol."

"Aye, there are punishments for a lass as pretty as you to be walking these halls alone."

He's before me now and I hold his gaze, daring him to come closer. "Lay a hand on me and the laird will deal with you. And you will not like it."

"No, I'm sure I won't... However, you're not his bride. In fact, ye came here with him alone, without an escort... Who's to say you've not offered him your maidenhead and others?"

I swallow with difficulty. "Are you calling me a whore?"

"You've got the body for one," he says, reaching out, touching my waist. I move back, breathing heavy now.

"Sir, I must say goodnight now."

"And I say no!" He reaches out, grasping my arms when I turn for the stairs.

"Let me go!" I shout.

My body crashes against the wall, his frame too heavy to get around. His fingers are clumsy and fat, pulling down the sleeve of the dress as much as he can, his tongue wet and hot against my neck. I try to kick him, flinging my arms to try to squirm my way out of his grasp.

Letting go of one of my arms he pulls on my laces hard and I let out a scream, knowing no one can hear it over the music but desperate. I latch onto his face with my nails, scratching as hard as I can and he yells, giving me the strength to run.

"Ye bitch!"

I fall onto the floor, my dress longer as it's falling off my body due to the loss of support. Scrambling up, I run, only to have him grab me once more by the arms. Panicking, I kick my legs as hard as I can as he drags me, screaming, pulling me towards a room.

I suddenly hear the music die down, the instruments one by one rather unmusically as one of the large entrance doors open, revealing a man, carrying wood bins in his arms.

I let out a relieved gasp as the old mans hold on my arms loosen in shock. The other man, wide-eyed, drops the boxes and I hear clinks of glass breaking.

"Get your hands off her, now!" he shouts, coming at him fast. I choke on my own tears as he grabs the old man by the throat, pushing him into the wall with a explicit in Gaelic. I pull on my dress, raising it back up over my chest as bodies begin to crowd the entrance to the great room, their eyes widening with shock at the spectacle before them.

Symon steps out through the crowd, gasping. "Gillian!"

In a rush, I rise onto my feet, swallowing. "I-I-"

"What the hell did he do to her?" Symon shouts at the man, still choking the red faced asshole.

"I dinna ken. I just arrived."

Symon looks down at my hands holding together my dress and his lips go white. "He didn't-?"

He says the question loud enough to be heard from the people watching us. I shake my head, repeating just as loud, "No, no- he didn't."

Nodding, he shakes his head, looking back over to the men. "Sir, will ye escort the lady back to her room? I will deal with him."

"Aye," the man says immediately, letting go of the geezer's neck. I hear spitting and coughing but I refuse to look over at him. Or at anyone. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the man grab the bins he dropped off the floor, wishing I could just go alone. I've never been so embarrassed in my life.

"Lead the way, miss," he says softly, before me now. I look up at him in a daze, not really seeing him and nod, turning for the stairs.

"Everyone- back into the hall! We will deal with this man- now," I hear Symon exclaim, his words echoing through the halls.

I stay quiet, holding my dress up as I walk before the man through the halls, desperate to get to a room.

"Are ye alright, miss?"

I slow, glancing back slightly. "I-I'm fine."

We do not speak again until I stop by the door of my room. "Thank you for escorting me back."

He points to marks on my shoulder, from the man's nails. "I'd like to give you something- to calm you, if I may."

"To calm me?"

"Aye, and to clean that."

I shake my head. "No, no, I'm fine, sir."

He chuckles, removing the hat from his head. "It's my job, lass. I'm no going to throw myself at ye too."

"Your job?"

He nods, his gaze soft in the dark light. "Aye, I'm the healer here." 

A/N: How is everyone liking the story?! :D