Departure

The whole Scene

The real­iza­tion of Jamie’s immi­nent depar­ture was deeply depress­ing; I sud­den­ly real­ized just how much I looked for­ward to see­ing him at din­ner after the day’s work, how my heart would leap when I saw him unex­pect­ed­ly at odd moments dur­ing the day, and how much I depend­ed on his com­pa­ny and his sol­id, reas­sur­ing pres­ence amid the com­plex­i­ties of life in the cas­tle. And, to be per­fect­ly hon­est, how much I liked the smooth, warm strength of him in my bed each night, and wak­ing to his tou­sled, smil­ing kiss­es in the morn­ings. The prospect of his absence was bleak.
He held me close­ly, my head snug­gled under his chin.
“I’ll miss you, Jamie,” I said softly.
He hugged me tighter, and gave a rue­ful chuckle.
“So will I, Sasse­nach. I had­na expect­ed it, to tell the truth—but it will hurt me to leave ye.” He stroked my back gen­tly, fin­gers trac­ing the bumps of the vertebrae.
“Jamie…you’ll be careful?”
I could feel the deep rum­ble of amuse­ment in his chest as he answered.

.…bla blah about the Duke and Geilis.….

I put my mouth on Jamie’s nip­ple, flick­ing it light­ly with my tongue. He made a small sound deep in his throat and pulled me nearer.
“Open your legs,” he whis­pered. “I mean to be sure you’ll remem­ber me while I’m gone.”
Some­time lat­er, I woke feel­ing cold. Grop­ing sleep­i­ly for the quilt, I couldn’t find it. Sud­den­ly it came up over me of its own accord. Sur­prised, I raised up on one elbow to look.
“I’m sor­ry,” Jamie said. “I did­na mean to wake ye, lass.”
“What are you doing? Why are you awake?” I squint­ed over my shoul­der at him. It was still dark, but my eyes were so accus­tomed that I could see the faint­ly sheep­ish expres­sion on his face. He was wide awake, sit­ting on a stool by the side of the bed, his plaid flung around him for warmth.
“It’s only…well, I dreamed you were lost, and I could­na find ye. It woke me, and…I want­ed to look at ye, is all. To fix ye in my mind, to remem­ber while I’m gone. I turned back the quilt; I’m sor­ry you were chilled.”
“It’s all right.” The night was cold, and very qui­et, as though we were the only two souls in the world. “Come into bed. You must be chilled too.”
He slid in next to me and curled him­self against my back. His hands stroked me from neck to shoul­der, waist to hip, trac­ing the lines of my back, the curves of my body.

“Mo duinne,” he said soft­ly. “But now I should say mo airgeadach. My sil­ver one.
Your hair is sil­ver-gilt and your skin is white vel­vet. Cal­man geal. White dove.”

I pressed my hips back against him, invit­ing, and set­tled against him with a sigh as his sol­id hard­ness filled me. He held me against his chest and moved with me, slow­ly, deeply. I gasped a lit­tle and he slack­ened his hold.

“I’m sor­ry,” he mur­mured. “I did­na mean to hurt ye. But I do want to be in you, to stay in you, so deep. I want to leave the feel of me deep inside ye with my seed. I want to hold ye so and stay wi’ you ’til dawn, and leave you sleep­ing and go, with the shapes of you warm in my hands.”
I pressed firm­ly back against him.
“You won’t hurt me.”

All rights for the Pic­ture go to the right­ful owner Starz
Excerpt and Quote by Diana Gabal­don from “Out­lan­der“
I own not­hing but the editing