The sun hung low over Lallybroch, casting long shadows across the courtyard as you laughed at something Malcolm the blacksmith said — your head tilted back, eyes shining. Jamie stood on the edge of the scene, arms crossed, trying his best to pretend he wasn’t watching. Pretending he hadn’t been watching all morning.

Malcolm was handsome. Charming in a loud, easy way. And worse — free. He didn’t carry the weight Jamie did. He hadn’t seen war, hadn’t buried friends on battlefields, hadn’t lived with ghosts.

And he didn’t look at you like he’d break apart if you walked away — not the way Jamie did.

“I think Malcolm likes her,” Ian said behind him, with a mischievous grin. “Talks about her every time he comes to the smithy.”

Jamie grunted. “Does he now?”

“Aye,” Ian said, squinting toward the pair of you. “She seems to like him well enough too. They’ve been talking for a good while now.”

Jamie didn’t answer. His jaw clenched hard enough to ache.

You were smiling again — that soft, rare smile Jamie had once thought was meant for him. The way Malcolm reached out, brushing your sleeve as he laughed, made something old and wild twist in Jamie’s chest.

He turned and walked toward the stables, unable to watch another second.

You found him not long after, hands deep in hay, shoving it into a trough with more force than necessary.

“You alright?” you asked.

“Aye,” he muttered. “Fine.”

You stepped closer, frowning. “You stormed off.”

He gave a humorless laugh. “I dinna storm off. I left.”

“Because I was talking to Malcolm?”

Jamie straightened, finally looking at you. His eyes were stormy — that quiet, burning blue-gray he only wore when he was fighting not to speak.

“I don’t own you,” he said roughly. “You can talk to any man you please.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He swallowed hard, fists clenched at his sides. “I saw him touch your arm.”

You raised your brows. “So?”

He stepped forward, close enough that you could feel the heat rolling off him.

“So,” he said, voice low, “it drove me mad, seeing him touch you like he had a right. Like you were his to charm, his to take.”

You stared at him, heart thudding.

“Jamie…”

He leaned in slightly, the tension thrumming between you like lightning in the air.

“I canna stand the thought of another man making you smile like that. I’ve tried to hold it in. To be patient. Respectful. But it’s tearing me apart, mo leannan. Because every time you laugh at someone else’s joke, every time ye walk away with someone who’s not me… it feels like losing you before I ever had the right to claim you.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. The weight of his confession settled in your chest like something sacred.