Outlander: The Standing Stones

The Captain and the Moonlight

When I came to, I found myself lying on the ground, propped against a saddle. I pushed myself up slowly, not sure if the dizziness would return. I breathed a sigh of relief when it appeared the spell was over.

This hadn't happened in a long time. The doctors had never been sure of what caused it. They'd guessed blood sugar, and suggested I watch my diet, but even then they didn't really know. This hadn't happened to me in five years, and the last thing I'd wanted to do was to faint in front of the skeptical Scotsman.

I looked up and saw the skeptical Scot in question standing in front of me. "I brought you some food," he said, "it's not fancy but it's all we have." He paused for a moment, "Are you all right?"

He seemed genuinely concerned, and it puzzled me. "Yes, I'm just very embarrassed. I'm not of a fainting disposition. Maybe it was stress, fear, I don't know. Maybe I just needed food." I began to eat a piece of ham, some cheese, and the mug of small ale that he'd offered. "And maybe it's because you scare me."

"Oh, I don't think I'm anything for you to be afraid of," he said, and I thought, that's what you think. Up close Georgie was even better looking, and at thirty I considered myself too old for men, especially a twenty-year-old, to make me nervous-but he did. "I just need to know who you are and what you're doing here. There are Jacobite spies on the loose, I've been chasing one of them. I take no chances where they are concerned."

I looked at him, debating what to say. "Do I look like a Jacobite spy, and are they really such a threat to you? You outnumber them and outgun them. If they're foolish enough to rise up against the English, they'll find themselves wiped out. Do I like the fact that England has absorbed Scotland and robbed them of their independence-no? I also don't believe in lost causes, and I hate to say it, but Scottish independence is a lost cause. The Jacobites would be better off learning to live with their situation as the Britains did with the Romans."

He looked at me, "You really mean that, don't you? Be careful whose company you say that in. You might offend the wrong person and find yourself dead." The look of concern on his face was very sweet, but I also read the signs of lust-he'd clearly undress and have me right there if he could.

"Anyway, Colin has spoken for you. He doesn't believe you're a Jacobite spy. For myself, I don't know what I think. You seem sincere enough-you think the Jacobites are fools, which they are, even though you feel sorry for them. And you are an unco pretty girl, I'll grant you that."

I drained the last of my ale and handed him the mug. "Can I have some more of that, please? So it's my looks and Colin that is saving me? Would I be less lucky if I were ugly?"

"You're not getting off so easily, I'm bringing you back with us. I don't know if I can trust you, and I can keep a better eye on you at home. And besides, my Da will like to talk about antiquities with you. And if you think you can fool him, you can think again."

"So, just who is your father, and who are you for that matter?"

 "I am George Campbell the Younger. My father is the laird of our clan. Colin is my cousin, his father is my father's brother." He laid his gloved hand on my cheek, "You better not be afraid of horses because we have a long ride ahead of us. You're riding pillion behind me and you best try no tricks."

I widened my eyes, my "wolf's eyes" at him. "I'm Russian, remember, I'm the descendant of Cossacks. I've been riding since I was big enough to sit up in the saddle." Take that, you cocky, arrogant, gorgeous Scotsman, I thought.

He laughed, "We'll see about that. If I trusted you, I'd put you on a horse just to see if you can prove your words. As it is, we'll have to wait and see." He reached out his hand and pulled me up, "You shall have more ale when we stop for lunch."