She is bent down by the fire while boiling a piece of cloth to "sterilize and get rid of it germs." As she says, strange as her ways may be she is quite the rare beauty. Grabbing the warm bandage she stands and walks behind my back. With each step I can see her frail body move underneath her thin shift.

She touches my shoulder which quickly adverts my thoughts to the scares on my back. She has yet to see them, it would turn anyone's stomach even a person of medicine. Her soft hand touches my skin and sends flames across my body. She slips the blanket covering my back off my shoulder and quietly gasps while studying the art work of Captian Randall.

Knowing she must have questions I do my best to tell her, "I was flogged twice in the space of a week. Woulda done it twice in the same day except for the fear of killing me. No fun in flogging a dead man." Claire sharply replies, "I didnt think anyone could find joy in such a thing."

"Well I'm not sure if Randall was joyous but he was at least pleased with himself." At the sound a Randall's name claire dropped her rag. For such a strong woman she quickly loses her confidence when he is brought up. But if anyone could understand that I most definitely do.

As she squats to reboil her cloth her face scrunches in thought then she asks, "Why were you flogged?" I tried to briefly explain the events but the woman pushed harder and I found myself pouring out every detail to her.

Once my story is done I try to move only to get yelled at, "Dont do that" she says, "I must wrap that around your side." I roll my eyes at her and she sends my flaming arrows with her look. I grin as her fingers brush against my side as she wraps with her warm bandages. "Your a kind woman, with a good touch" I say.

Taking it as a challange she tightly ties the bandages together earning her a low hiss that escapes between my teeth. "Your husband is a lucky man." I comment. This seems to set her back and she squats back down my the fire. The room goes silent and I study her face as her smile fades and turns to sorrow. As she begins to cry my heart shatters.

"Mistress? Mistress beecham are you alright." As ask. She begins to shake as she hold in her tears,"I'm alright.... I was just thinking about my husband." She answers as a tear slides down her cheek. I hate to see her so broken but I push on, "Lass, is he not alive?"

The tears are no longer hidden as she shakes her head, "No he is not." Her sobs rip through my heart, I rush to comfort her and hold her in my arms. I feel her tears roll down my shoulder, "Hush dont cry sassenach." I attempt to comfort her. She leans back and looks into my eyes. We study each other as our foreheads brush against one another. Caught in the moment I lean towards her but she pushes away.

We both stand and she apologizes which breaks my heart even more. "Ye need not be afraid of me or anyone else here lass." I reply. Her eyes lighten and she smiles, "Thank you." I take step close and touch her arm, sparks light at our touch, "Watch yourself." I say and grab my coat to leave.

As I begin to walk out the door her small voice stops me, "Jamie." She says. I look up at her, "Don't overwork that shoulder." I smile and nod my head then shut the door. Blast that woman for being so attractive.