Chapter Text
I sighed and set out for the day. Frank would be at the university, preparing for his classes and I had the day off. I wanted to spend it with him, but I knew he was busy. Instead, I went out to do some shopping. He’d told me that some of his work friends would be coming over to his house later this week, so I was putting together a list of things to get for dinner.
With my grocery shopping done, I walked by a small bookshop that caught my eye. It appeared to be a second-hand store, every book in the window seemed well used. Unable to stop my curiosity, I walked in. Perhaps I could find a nice gift for Frank. He liked being surprised with gifts sometimes.
Inside, I couldn’t help but smile. There was a strange sense of... Love. Like each book was loved and wanted, given a home.
“Good day to ye, mistress,” came a deep voice.
I turned around quickly and smiled at the little man behind the counter. He had a big bushy black beard and his dark hair was tied back in a tail.
“Hello,” I said politely. “This is a lovely shop you have here.”
“Och, it’s no’ mine. Belongs to my godson. I just work here. Murtagh,” he said, extending his hand. “Murtagh Fraser.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fraser.”
“Please, lass. Call me Murtagh. I only get Mr. Fraser when I’m in trouble.”
I laughed and nodded, looking around the shop again.
“Can I help ye find something?”
“Oh, no. I’m just looking around. My fiancé is a professor at the university. He’s a historian, so he loves old books. I just thought I’d stop in and see what you had.”
Murtagh nodded.
“My godson is a bit of a historian himself, ye ken. I’ll go and fetch him.”
“Oh you don’t-”
But the little Scotsman was already gone. So I wandered around, picking things up and putting them back.
“A historian, then?”
This was a different voice, still deep, but warmer. I turned around and looked up. And up.
He was tall. Very tall. And broad in the shoulders. Bright red hair was also tied back like Murtagh’s, though curling tendrils stuck out at random.
“Ah, what?” I asked stupidly, taken aback by the deep blue eyes.
“Historian? Yer man?”
“Oh, yes. Frank.”
“Perhaps I’ve something o’er here he might like. Come wi’ me.”
I followed him instinctively and he stopped by a section of old books about the Scottish rebellion, known as the ‘45.
I bought one of the books and let the young man wrap it for me so I could give it to Frank later.
“Thank you...” I said, waiting for a name.
“Jamie. Jamie Fraser.”
“Claire Beauchamp,” I shook his hand.
The smile he gave me reached all the way up to his beautiful blue eyes.
“Lovely to meet ye, Claire. I’ll let ye get back to yer errands.”
“Thank you for the book. I’m sure Frank will love it.”
“I hope so.”
I left the little shop and went back to Frank’s house to put the groceries away. We would be married next year, but we had keys to each other’s places. I spent most nights at his house already, but I hadn’t started that final move yet.
When he came home later that night, I gave the book to him, a little nervous.
“Oh Claire, this is beautiful. A first edition. A little worn around the edges, but...”
He was pleased. He went off about the history of the Scots and the failed ‘45. I didn’t care much for the information, but he was always so passionate about it.
“I’m glad you like it, Frank. The man at the shop recommended it for a historian.”
“Man?” His head snapped up, something flashing in his eyes. “What man?”
“The man, who owns the shop. Mr. Fraser.”
“Oh! You got this at Fraser’s Books?”
“I did.”
“I always wanted to take a look around there.”
“Come by with me tomorrow. There was an old medical book that looked interesting.”
I had the following day off as well, having finished my one-month rotation in cardiology. I’d be starting a new rotation in a new department day after tomorrow, but for now I could enjoy my time with Frank.
We went to the little book shop, happy to have some time to be with each other. Murtagh was at the counter again and he nodded at me.
“Miss Beauchamp,” he said.
“If I’m to call you Murtagh, you can at least call me Claire.”
“Aye. Welcome back, Claire.”
The engagement ring felt heavy on my hand as we walked around. It kept catching the sunlight, shooting prismatic colors on the walls.
“Claire!”
I turned and smiled at Jamie, who came out of the back room with his arms full of books.
“Hello Jamie. This is Frank, my historian fiancé I was telling you about.”
“Och aye! Welcome, mister...”
“Randall,” Frank said, nodding at Jamie. “Frank Randall.”
“Pleasure to meet ye, sir.”
Frank was on my left side, holding my left hand.
“Claire, is this the book you were telling me about last night?” he asked, pointing.
The way he pointed, he used his right hand, which was holding my left. That forced my annoyance of an engagement ring into the sunlight. I saw Jamie’s eyes lock on it.
“Ah, yes. It was.”
“Could you wrap this one for us, Mr. Fraser?”
“Aye,” Jamie said, giving Frank a cold look. “I can.”
I watched as Jamie wrapped the medical book for me and handed it over to Frank.
“You’ve got a great collection of books here, Mr. Fraser.”
“I thank ye, Mr. Randall. And I thank ye for yer business. Hope to see ye both again,” he said.
Jamie had been responding to Frank’s comment, but he was looking right at me.
That night, at Frank’s house, I sipped at my glass of brandy as I stared into the fire.
“Do you know that Scot?”
Blinking at the abrupt question, I looked up at Frank. He was holding the book he’d purchased for me, a business card sticking out of the top.
“What? No. I only met him the day I bought you that book.”
“Then what is this?”
He handed over the card and I saw there was a note scribbled on the back.
Stop by anytime. Love to show you around. J
I handed it back to Frank.
“I told you. I didn’t know him before yesterday.”
“You know he wants to fuck you, don’t you?”
“Excuse me?!”
Frank threw the book on the couch beside me.
“Practically undressing you there in the shop. Right in front of me! The Scottish bastard.”
“Frank!”
He turned and glared at me.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t see it.”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. But if this is how you’re going to behave, I’ll go sleep in my own bed tonight.”
“I’m sorry, Claire. Please stay. I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”
I shook my head, setting my glass down on the side table.
“Frank, we’re getting married next year. You should trust me by now.”
“I do, Claire. It’s other men I don’t trust.”
“Then trust that I haven’t known Jamie before yesterday, no matter how he was looking at me.”
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“She’s engaged to be marriet, man. Get that girl out o’ yer head!”
“I canna, Murtagh.”
Murtagh glared at him and waved a hand.
“Ye must, lad. She isna yers to have. She belongs to another man.”
“I dinna like the look o’ him.”
“A’course not! Ye want his woman!”
Jamie glared back at Murtagh just as hard.
“I dinna... It’s no’ like that!”
“Aye. It is. And were ye a lad, I’d clout yer ears for ye.”
Jamie looked longingly out the door of the shop, wondering and hoping that Claire Beauchamp would come back again.