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Dougal knew he shouldn’t have left her alone with those blasted Redcoats. He regretted it as soon as the door closed behind him, but he couldn’t go back, his pride wouldn’t let him. He hated himself for it afterwards, of course. If he’d been there he could have protected her, he’d never have let “Black Jack” Randall put his filthy English hands on Claire’s fragile body.
Well no. Fragile wasn’t quite the word to describe Claire Beauchamp, he knew this. She could hold her own quite well. But damn it, Dougal Mackenzie, war chief of Clan Mackenzie, brother to its laird, should have known better than to leave a woman in a room full of Sassenachs. It mattered little she was one too, one tried to rape her the day she came to them; Englishmen were all pigs.
That was why once his eyes met those of “Black Jack” Randall, Dougal cursed, downed his drink and made his way back upstairs as peacefully as he could manage. He’d be of little help if he got himself apprehended on the way. He only broke into a run once he reached the upper floor. He saw the open door and heard Jack’s voice carry to him words that made his blood boil.
„ Have you ever kicked a woman? “
The rest was a blur. He burst in, took her away, and miraculously no one stopped them.
The sight of her curled up on the floor, wheezing, tore at his heart. Claire, strong, capable Claire, rendered helpless. It wasn’t right. He had to find a way to protect her from that poor excuse for a man.
***
A wedding then. Making her a Mackenzie was the only way to keep Claire safe. Ned and Dougal spent hours hunched over any piece of legal writing they could find and this was the only way. The Sassenach had to become Scottish, and the only way to do that was by marriage.
God knows Dougal would offer to marry her himself if he had the faintest hope that she’d say yes to him. Clan Mackenzie was full of reliable, competent men, and any of them would be able to keep her safe. But he suspected hardly any of them would have been willing. Claire’s life and safety was far more important to Dougal than he cared to admit and he ached to be the one fully responsible for her. If there was one thing Dougal Mackenzie was good at, it was protecting someone capable, but disadvantaged. He’d pledged his life to Colum and he’d readily pledge it to Claire.
If only she’d have him.
She wouldn’t, of course. He knew as much. He’d been suspicious of her every step of the way and made it clear to her just as often. Hell, he tried to force himself on her. Sure, he was drunk then, but that is not an excuse any man worth his salt – least of all Dougal Mackenzie – would hide behind. He’d ruined his chances with the Sassenach long before the sight of her made his chest ache. He’d made his bed, now it was time to lie in it.
But who then?
The answer was obvious, but he didn’t like it. If he couldn’t have her, he’d have much preferred her to be with someone not as directly related to him. But the truth was, Jamie was the only one he trusted to genuinely want and try to keep her safe. Jamie cared for her too, Dougal knew. She would be in good hands if she was with him.
Jamie didn’t like the idea at first. Dougal almost punched him. Did he not realize how lucky he was? Would he not move heaven and earth to call her his? Barely managing to keep those words in, Dougal did persuade him in the end. He’d hated himself and Jamie both for it.
Claire, unsurprisingly, was much easier to sway. Dougal tried to laugh off the remark about marrying him. Again, he knew well enough she’d never let him be the one to keep her safe. But her words, or perhaps the way she said them, stung more than he expected.
***
Once all was said and done, and Dougal was seated in the common room to witness the consummation of Claire and Jamie’s marriage, he turned to whiskey. The burning in his throat was surely just from the alcohol and not from sneaking off earlier in the day far away from the village to scream.
He resented his men for their glee and obvious genuine pride when Jamie emerged from their chambers. How could they be so happy when all he could feel was hollow?
Claire had never been his. He had about as much claim to her as “Black Jack” Randall and yet . And yet it felt like Jamie was taking away his most prized possession while everyone cheered. What right did this boy have to take Claire as his wife? The lad’s barely ever seen a woman, what did he know of being a husband?
Dougal didn’t know when, or how, but Claire had seen men die in battle. She learned how to treat wounds and set bones and never flinched. She deserved better than an inexperienced boy. She deserved a proper man.
He almost told her as much when she emerged to get some wine. He outright offered himself to her, like a fool. She declined, of course, as he’d known she would. She was a married woman now. Married to his own nephew. Pursuing anything with Dougal was off limits.
When Angus came in making jokes about her body, Dougal couldn’t hold himself back anymore and decked him. Probably broke the poor sod’s nose. But his or not, Dougal would not tolerate Claire’s honour being questioned. She was perhaps the only honourable person ever to come out of the hellhole known as England.
***
Dougal wasn’t there when they took her. Dougal wasn’t there when they took her, and that’s why they took her. Jamie wasn’t there either, of course, but if Dougal were her husband, he’d never have left her side. He should never have let Jamie marry her. He should have known he was the only one who could protect her. He should have known better than to trust the Fraser lad with his Claire.
His Claire.
Dougal tried and failed not to think of her as his. If she couldn’t be his to have and to hold she was always going to be his to protect, to keep safe. His to guard. Her kidnapping was Dougal’s fault as much as Jamie’s. Perhaps more than Jamie’s, even.
The lad merely failed to protect his wife, but Dougal? He may not have sworn a formal oath, but his devotion to Claire wasn’t any less true and profound for it. He failed to keep his oath of protecting Claire Beauchamp – for he could never bring himself to think of her as a Fraser.
They knew where she was, of course. "Black Jack" Randall requested her presence at Fort William before the wedding scheme ever came to be. And apparently, ever the English gentleman, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Dougal was itching to barge in guns blazing and swords drawn. Ever since they realized Claire was taken, he’d been plagued by visions of what the disgusting man might do to her. Every second spent in camp was a second he was not saving his charge, and it was eating him alive.
But rash actions did not win battles. Dougal Mackenzie knew this all too well. And so he sat down to plan.