“Are ye alright?”

His soft voice pierced the quietness between you two. Your husband’s blue eyes scan your face with a sense of immense worry.

“Randall, he didna hurt ye?” His fingers comb over your hair, a deep frown on his face; it that had been there since he had rescued you from the British.

The silence is deafening as you shake your head, eyes on the ground. Jamie inhales deeply, his burly arms tensed.

“I’m waiting for ye to say something. Anythin’ that approaches an apology.”