#and no wonder when scotland starts off by calling him a wee shite

[thatsamericano]

Auld Alliance Be Like...

Scotland: Wow! My wee shite of a brother really hates us, doesn't he, France?

France: Yes. Perhaps Angleterre is homophobic.

[Beat]

Scotland: But we're not gay, France.

France (shocked): We're not?!

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

I'm completely blown away by your responses to this work. Thank you each and one of you who read it, left kudos, reblogged or just said a kind word. It means a lot <3 This second chapter was prewritten before and I did not want to make you wait! :) For those who's been asking about posting in future I plan to update this fic once a week, probably on Wednesdays (but not necessarily). I’m still figuring out the way I want to tell this story but I guess we'll just see how their relationship develops until the present times. At first, I thought of it as little flashbacks but now it seems more necessary to show all the steps of growing together before we arrive at the Angst. Once again excuse me for any mistakes that might be there. ( Yes, I'm still looking for my beta? ❤)

It’s also available on AO3 :)

Posting a little behind the schedule here but... Enjoy!

1.The beginnings

                                              CHAPTER 2: Sassenach

" How did you break your nose?" I asked him (out of nowhere to be honest) finishing the last stitch on his forearm. The tissue there was split about 3 inches long, quite deep. It ran atop his other scar (where did he get it from?) and once healed it would make a cross sign.

'' Huh?" My patient lifted his head looking at me. For whatever reason, I felt my stomach turn into a warm pool. ( why?) That was the first time I had a chance to examine his face properly, to register his features in my mind. His eyes were strangely blue, the shade of blue that reminded me of my vacation to the Maldives. The stubble of gold reddish colour was sprinkled along the sides of his jaw (I wondered whether it was his style or he just did not bother to shave). His face was framed by short cut curls, sticking out slightly near his ears. (I had to fight an urge to tuck them behind).

I nearly dropped an anesthetic when he spoke. The deep flush crept up my neck, reaching my cheeks when I realised I was staring at him.

" Ye didna ask me how I cut my arm but ye ask me about my nose?" Jamie's eyebrows rose as he smiled, small dimple on his right cheek appearing for me to remember. " Is it yer trying to compare the size of my nose and..."

" No." I cut him off coldly, biting on my lip, his sudden remark threw my professional mask off.  The smile on his face was wiped out in seconds, eyes fixed on mine. I cursed in my mind (what is wrong with you, Beauchamp?). He was just trying to make a joke and I'm going to have PMS or why else I had snapped again? I almost physically felt the awkward silence that fell on the room, spreading its dirty hands to ruin any possible professional etiquette I tried to maintain. But, it did not have a chance when we spoke together.

" I'm sorry. I did not want to sound mean".

" Sorry, that was verra stupid of me to say, Sassenach".

The phone vibrated in the pocket of my jeans before I could answer him. With quiet "excuse me" I pressed decline thinking that Geillis can wait a couple of minutes more, though she would say she'll curse me with all her long line of witches in the family. " What does it mean? Sassi-nak?" I asked taking the last band-aids (only with Disney theme left) from the drawer.

" It means English." He snorted behind my back but when I turned his gaze was surprisingly warm. I swallowed. I had to admit he was beautiful. Beautiful in the way that hypnotized me and I thought that if I could paint he is the perfect model for that.  " Or simply an outlander." Jamie watched me opening up the band-aid (which happened to be with Micky Mouse).

" Really? " I narrowed my eyes. Satisfied with my work I gave him the last instructions. " All done. Don't scratch it, don't swim, avoid sport. You may take showers and keep the bandage until you get home". Feeling my phone buzzing again I smiled at him, watching him put on the same woolen coat (dark navy, ending just above his knees) and tartan scarf, I grabbed my own coat.

" I'm sorry I kept ye after yer work hours". He said quietly and suddenly took my black jacket out of my hands. "It's alright." I responded taken aback by his gesture." It's my duty". I could feel his warm breath at the nape of my neck when my back faced him. I grabbed my purse mumbling incoherent 'thanks' and feeling stupid that I acted like a schoolgirl. (Has he noticed that? Christ.)

" What do ye call us, Scots?" Jamie looked up at me when he stood in the doorway. " Nothing really. Is it already not offensive enough?" I bit inside of my cheek trying not to laugh. He smiled. " Aye."

We said goodbye in a rush being interrupted by young nurse Mary Hawkins who has had about a million questions to me. Saying to James Fraser that he can come back in a week for sutures removal I had spent another 20 minutes talking to a father of one of my patients.  Geillis was cursing me in three long text messages to which my response was a crap emoji.  She had planned on going to some fancy restaurant and spending a ridiculous amount of money on some luxurious dishes, saying it would cheer me up. I wasn't particularly agreeing with her on the thought "Ye look like shite and behave the same. Tis time ye put aside all that Frank story" and was going to spend time home but Geillis wouldn't be one without trying. Typing the message on the screen I mentally counted how much time I really have to get home, change in something more suitable and meet Geillis.

"Sorry, hon. Had one more patient. xx"

" Was he hot?"

" What makes you think it was' him'?"

"Just hope for ye, love"

I rolled my eyes and shivered at the cold wind (bloody hell, Scotland, it was just September?) running down the stairs I successfully avoided the puddle when a familiar voice called. "Sassenach?"

In his hand, he held a takeaway coffee from Starbucks "Just black. Americano. Did I get it right?" " Right" I whispered back. (why? why did I whisper?)

" I'm sorry again for yer wee nose. And yer coffee" Jamie smiled handing me the cup, our fingers brushing slightly, me noticing how warm his skin was despite the brutal Scottish weather. I shook my head and looked down at my shoes. He was smirking. (really?) 

" It's okay. Sorry I barked at you then." I chewed on my lip, feeling my toes go numb in the cold. "Be careful with your hand". 

"Aye, I will."  He had asked my name then and I blurted "Beauchamp", his eyebrows rose and I laughed "Claire. My name is Claire."

Being awfully late for a dinner with Geill, cursing why did I buy this bag that was as big as bloody house, I finally found the keys in the depths of it. Throwing it on the hall floor and kicking my boots off on the way to bedroom I scratched Adso behind his furry ears (who had been sleeping, paws up, sprawled on the carpet in the living room). I jumped into the shower almost breaking my ankle at the slippery tiles. I had to give Geillis a credit. Truly I was feeling as I stood on the edge of the cliff, one foot hanging above it. The emotional state that had me hooked for the last few weeks because of a nasty remark I'd received from Frank in the text message. " You have to cut off the bullshit, Claire. You are not as great a woman as you think". I simply replied, "Fuck you, Frank Randall". But it kept lingering at the back of my head and surely soon enough I started thinking perhaps it was me who did everything wrong and that is why we divorced? Had it been my friend I would have said that it's a talk of insecure man and nothing surprising in a fact that man tries to blame a woman. This is as old as the world and you cannot beat yourself up for it and possibly think you've done something wrong. There were multiple reasons why we have broken up, on both sides. It just didn't work. But his remark threw me off the track and I've got stuck in this state for past two weeks.

Thinking that Geillis's idea of the restaurant actually might be a good distraction I grabbed the purse from the floor when my eyes stumbled at the coffee cup I have left on the bureau shelf. Feeling familiar warmth rising from my belly and going up up up my body making me smile I took a few sips of now cold drink setting it aside. Only then I've noticed a set of numbers scrabbled on the side. It was a number and I did not need to guess long whose it is.

Dinner with Geilis was indeed a distraction. A good one for that matter. We went through all our work weekly news and now for the last twenty minutes, she was telling me in all explicit details about her last Tinder date. Sipping on the nutty red wine I could not help but admit that Jamie has lingered at the back of my mind all evening. When the waiter brought us the check and we were trying to split the sum James Fraser became our next topic of discussion. "Ye ken that he left ye his number on purpose?" Geillis smirked putting away her wallet. " Yes. But what then?" I nodded with my shoulders. "I saw him just twice and the first one was not much of a success." The pharmacist rolled her eyes when we stepped out to the drizzle of rain, lighting a cigarette. " Christ, Claire. I saw him. He was smoking hot. Ye canna just let that chance flow by." The cloud of smoke hid her face for a moment and I coughed. "And ye dinna need to have serious relationships with him. Or just sex with no promises is taboo for ye these days? C'mon. Relax, Beauchamp."

I knew she was right in a way. I was overthinking it. In the last five months after divorce with Frank I had shared a bed with men, went on meaningless dates. Why couldn't I do it now? Jamie was attractive and kind. I definitely could give it a shot.

For the next week, I was swirled into the chaos of work, night shifts, new patients, Adso having stomach problems. I did not have the time or chance to call Jamie. And when I finally remembered about it, sitting in well-worn pajamas, eating crisps out of the packet on the couch I'd realised I threw the cup into the rubbish bin. Thinking of it as bad omen I tried not to dwell on it much but my plan has been changed by Mary Hawkins who apparently took off the sutures of Jamie and with red face shoved a note into my hand while I was filling in the charts. All the way home I felt as if the note in my pocket will burn my hand off.

Looking at the piece of paper with neat handwriting that said "I'd hoped it would be the Sassenach who removes my stitches. *smiley face* P.S. I hope my handwriting is good enough this time because I have a feeling ye couldna read the phone number. Fancy a good Scottish whisky instead of coffee? J." I dialed Geillis, pacing the room in circles, Adso following me with a look  "Are you okay, Mama?"

" That's the lad ye bumped into in Lallybroch? The one with stitches?" Her voice sounded dangerously excited. " Mmmh" I hummed noise of approval, staring out of the window.

" He knows his ways" She chuckled. "Tell me ye will go and see him?" I leaned my forehead against the glass, the warm breath making it misty.  "He's my patient." A long line of cursing on the other side followed my answer and it made me smile. That's why I loved Geillis though sometimes she was a lot to handle.

"Well, a patient ye treated... like what? Ten minutes? Plus, ye've seen him before so it's like ye know him. I will kill ye with my own bare hands if ye dinna call him at least."

I chewed on my lip and glanced at Adso as if it could shake off my doubts. " You know what? I'll meet him." I stated simply.

" That's the spirit, lassie!" Her happy squealing made me grimace. "Dinna forget to shave". After another five minutes of a stream of advice from my best girlfriend I took out the Starbucks paper cup from the trash, I threw it in the evening before (he better be worth it). Not to give myself a chance to change my mind I dialed right away.

We agreed to meet in a pub of Jamie's choice (he had promised it's one of the best in Edinburgh) I spent a good amount of time thinking what to wear. What does one wear to a pub? To date in the pub? (seriously?) Was it a date at all? As my wristwatch showed 6pm I finally stood in the hallway 30 minutes before meeting James Fraser (not as my patient). I had promised myself to keep this easy and fun. I'm just seeing this handsome Scot, having a couple of drinks with him, flirty chit chats, maybe ending up in mine or his apartment as a bonus. Easy and fun.

"Get your shit together, Beauchamp." I hissed to myself taking the last look in the mirror. Highwaisted jeans, cream sweater and suede high heels boots that I've bought being drunk last Christmas and never wore (heals and I were from different worlds). It was definitely an upgrade since Lallybroch market accident but it did not scream "Look, I've just spent two hours figuring out my outfit!".

Getting into the cab (not that I had planned on being drunk but my inner voice knew better) I texted Geillis the name and GPS location of the pub.

 "In case I get abducted, you know. xxx".

" Yer ridiculous but I still love ye. Have a good shag. Kidding. Have fun. xxx"

Nodding at cab driver's "Have a good evening" I stepped out to the busy street, full of noises, tipsy people, the smell of street food mixed with weed smoke. Glancing last time at my cell phone where Jamie's text shone on the screen five minutes ago "I'll be inside, ye can find me at the bar. ;)" I walked inside the pub.

The first time we met (or rather bumped into each other) I haven't noticed much besides his bright hair and a soft smile. The second time, James Fraser was my patient and despite all medical etiquette written I kept thinking how good-looking he was. Neither times I felt nervous or confused, I felt at ease with him and only anticipated what he might be if we meеt in normal set up? Now I caught myself fidgeting my fingers along the strap of my purse, eyes scanning the crowd. It wasn't hard to spot him. His tall posture was slightly bent across the bar as he spoke to the bartender, the red mop of hair shook in agreement and then he turned his head.

 I was halfway there when he noticed me. I had smiled when he leaned to press a kiss to my cheek, his lips dry and warm, body dangerously close to mine.

" Claire". He hummed with a deep noise coming up his chest. I dropped my coat on the back of the stool when Jamie slid it aside for me to seat.

"I took a chance and ordered for ye." He pointed at two tumblers of whisky on the polished wooden counter.

"Taking a risk?" I smirked, my fingers feeling a cold surface of the patterned glass. " Oh, aye." If a look could burn then Jamie's eyes would’ve made a see-through hole in me. "Sláinte!"

"How's your arm?" I tilted my head, watching his lips meet the glass surface. It could have been a mesmerizing movie scene I'd watch again and again. "Do ye always talk about yer work, Dr. Bechaam?" He grunted glaring at me. " But since ye asked, it's fine, though I was verra much disappointed it wasna ye there to remove the stitches." I felt goosebumps running down my skin, making each little hair erect, all the same, familiar warmth rising at the bottom of my belly.

"How come?" I quirked one brow in a question (although I knew the answer).  "Ye have a good touch, Sassenach" Jamie shook his glass, ice clinking, before gulping it down. Feeling slightly more reckless I licked the tingling sensation off my lips, leaning closer to him. "I could check it for you if you like. To see if there is no infection".

The rest of the evening we spent in easy banter. Jumping from one topic to another, fun and serious, sad and happy. He had told me about his family "Wee Maggie was verra jealous of the Micky Mouse band aid ye gave me". I told him about my times in medical school (how I broke my arm in the third year trying to pass a note to Geillis on the exam). He remembered his most embarrassing date with his first girlfriend Annalise. I shared my last awful experience with meeting a guy after speaking with him on Facebook. Jamie said he likes horses, I answered: "I'm interested in botany".

All the time I was strongly aware of our knees touching, of him laughing (loud and so genuine it made my heart skip a beat) and bending forward, his warm breath lingering above my skin, our fingers brushing accidentally when laid atop the bar counter. Two hours later we stood outside the pub, his coat loosely draped over my shoulders for extra warmth "Aren't you cold?" I had asked then. "No, Sassenach. We Scots made of solid stuff" He laughed, fishing his cell phone out of the pocket. I was fidgeting from one foot to another thinking how I might get him inside my flat? I was tipsy, feeling quite reckless and more than conscious of his attractiveness. 

 "I'll get ye a cab, text me when yer safe home, aye?" He glared at me, his pinky lightly caressing the inside of my wrist when he called a taxi.

" Jamie, don't you..."

 He did not let me finish, tucking away the stray curl behind my ear, his warm fingers tracing the line down my jaw. " I would verra much like to kiss ye. May I?"

Without much words I stepped forward, his lips crushed under mine. Jamie hummed appreciative "mmmm" his fingers tangling in the hair on my nape. I could feel the lines of muscles under his shirt when we were pressed along each other, my hands going up and down his arms. I inhaled deeply when we parted, watching him lick his lips.

"I'll see ye around, Claire?"

[mymelodyheart]

Starting Over Chapter 27 ~The Sting~

As soon as she heard Jamie cough, Claire immediately got up from her uncomfortable hospital seat and went to his bedside. His eyes were barely open, but when he gave her a weak smile, she knew he was lucid if not still groggy. Her gaze travelled over every inch of his face and his body, making sure nothing was amiss, and she hadn't overlooked anything. He looked tired and worn out, but at least he had colour back on his cheeks.

It was late afternoon already, and she'd had nothing to eat all day. The moment they had arrived with the ambulance at the hospital sometime around five AM, she'd automatically gone into doctor mode. Even though she no longer worked at the Royal Infirmary, she'd barked orders at the nurses and junior doctors instructing them what to do. To her relief, no one had opposed her and had followed her demands and requests. 

Once Jamie had gone through all necessary tests and was settled into a private room, the senior doctor on night duty, having heard what had happened, had immediately reported the incident to the police. Not long after, two officers arrived, and Claire was briefly interviewed. She had given them a concise account of what transpired and provided them with the name of the bar they had been in and her suspects, namely Gerald Forbes and Morag. 

Satisfied she'd done everything she could do, she'd sent a text to Willie, after her calls to him had been unanswered and Geillis, explaining everything. Lastly, she'd vented on a voice message to Joe, reprimanding him with a lot of cursing and name-calling for overlooking Jamie's conditions. It wasn't a choice. It had to be done even though Joe was her best friend and had been under the influence. 

When Jamie's family started to trickle in one by one sometime late morning, she'd excused herself and snuck out. She'd taken a taxi to her cottage to retrieve her car, check on her uncle and stopped by Jamie's apartment to grab some fresh clothes and his razor. 

Looking at her watch once again, she knew she had to eat something if she wanted to remain upright for the rest of the day. Exhaustion was slowly seeping in, but she didn't want to leave Jamie's side.

"Sassenach?"

She searched his eyes. "Hey, how are you feeling?" she asked softly, brushing his hair back and leaning down to press a lingering kiss on his forehead.

He reached for her hand and kissed her palm before placing it on his chest. "I feel shite," he replied hoarsely, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I have a terrible headache, and my tummy is no' any better. But I think I'm good."

She heard the door open, and after a quick glance, she saw Geillis walking in on tiptoes. 

Geillis gestured with a wave of her hand to not mind her as she took the seat Claire vacated moments ago.

Claire reverted her attention back to Jamie. "Would you like some water?" 

He slowly shook his head, and his eyes fluttered as if the movement was too much of an exertion.

"My uncle sends his regards. He stopped by earlier," she whispered, taking her hand from his grip and stroking back his hair.

Jamie tried to frown, but even that took a lot of effort. "Is he still mad at me?"

She stifled the urge to laugh. "No one is mad at you, Jamie. We were all worried."

He lifted his hand, and gingerly touched her face. "Wee Jamie is right, ye know ..."

Huh?  She was slightly distracted by stubbles hugging his jaw. "Sorry?"

"My nephew ...wee Jamie," he explained, swallowing audibly. "He said ye're an angel. Ye do look like an angel. So ye must be one." The crinkle at the corners of his eyes deepened. "How do I get to be so lucky?"

Ah, hell!  She smiled. Even in his state, Jamie could charm the knickers off a nun. Earlier, Claire had seen how some of the younger nurses and interns sighed in awe and recognition the moment they'd seen their famous patient. It was a blessing in a way that he had fans at the hospital. With her reputation in tatters as Frank's ex-fiancee, she wondered if they would have been as helpful to her if the patient hadn't been Jamie.

His eyes darted around the room, as realisation dawned on him. "We're in the hospital. It's that bad, is it?"

"No. You were just knocked out. The doctor had to take a couple of tests to determine what drug was used to spike your drink. Sometimes urinalysis in inconclusive, so I've asked for a blood test as well, just to be sure," she disclosed. "You have nothing to worry about. Other than you looking sleepy and adorable, your vital signs are perfect."

"Have they figured out what drug was put into my drink?"

"Not yet. But the doctor has a sneaking suspicion it was Rohypnol. But you have nothing to worry about. You're in good hands."

Jamie's head bobbed, trying his best to listen to every word she was saying, but he was probably still too worn out to concentrate. Claire was about to suggest he should get some rest when he spotted Geillis. "Geillis!" he croaked. "Didn't see ye there. Ye're quiet for a change."

Grinning, Geillis got up and stepped forward. "And ye look like death warmed up. Dinna fash, yer good looks is still intact."

A small laugh came out of Jamie as Claire rolled her eyes at Geillis. "I knew I could always rely on yer honest opinion." He eyed the paper bag Geillis had in her hand. "Ye have something for me?"

Geillis put her package on Jamie's bedside table. "Aye. I got ye some Dundee cake. They're sliced already into portions. I dinnae ken if ye're allowed one now though. Maybe after ye've eaten or something later for yer supper?"

Jamie nodded. "Thank ye. But I'm no' up for anything yet ...I think. I still feel a bit off." His eyes were starting to look heavy and close on their own. "But ...aye, something for supper later ..." And then just like that, he drifted off to sleep.

Claire gave Jamie a quick kiss and signalled Geillis to meet her outside. Once they were in the hallway, Claire hugged her friend. "Thank you for coming. You didn't have to, you know. Jamie should be out by tomorrow."

Geillis waved her hand in dismissal. "Ach, it's nae bother at all. I just wanted to see if Jamie looked good in a hospital nightgown. Is it open-back by any chance?"

Claire laughed. "I haven't checked but will send you a text later and let you know."

"Mind, to send a picture as well with that text," Geillis joked, her cheeks dimpling. And then her face suddenly turned serious. "So, his former agent spiked his drink, huh? Have ye notified the police?"

"Done all that. The doctor on duty gave a statement to the police as well," she replied, stuffing her hands at the back of her jean's pocket. "I'm not sure though if that would be enough to prosecute Forbes. From what Jamie told me, he's kinda like Frank. Forbes knows people in high places." She bit her lip as she felt the business card between her fingertips. "I have a plan, though ..."

Geillis pursed her lips and eyed her suspiciously. "Uh-oh, I dinnae think I like the look on yer face. Care to share the plan?"

Claire sighed. "I know you're my best friend, but I'd rather not tell you ..." When Geillis frowned at her, she changed strategy. "Well at least, not yet. I need to go over things in my head, but you can help me with something though ..."

Geillis eyes lit up. "Anything!"

"Is your morning free tomorrow?" she asked, crossing her fingers behind her.

"Aye, but I have to be in Glasgow by two in the afternoon."

Claire let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, that's alright."

"What do ye need?"

"Can you be with Jamie here tomorrow?" Claire licked her lips nervously when Geillis frowned again. "Only until before twelve. I'm meeting some people," she explained hurriedly. "I want you to be here in case Jamie is released. His family will probably be here too, but Jamie will be asking questions about my whereabouts. So I need you to be here to reassure him ...umm ...that I won't be gone for long ..."

"Claire ..."

"Please, don't ask questions, pretty please," Claire pleaded, hoping Geillis won't back out on her. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. I promise."

"Ye're not doing anything stupid, are ye? Because if ye are, I want to be part of it."

Claire laughed nervously. "I'm not sure if it's stupid or not," she admitted. "But ..."

"Whatever ye're planning, is it safe? Geillis interrupted, searching her face. "That's all I need to know."

"Hundred per cent safe. I promise. And I won't be alone."

Geillis relaxed. "Fine. I'll be here tomorrow to entertain yer boyfriend. Maybe Jamie will let me know if his hospital nightgown is open-back or no'. And maybe I could extract some rugby freebies from him."

Claire laughed and hugged her friend. "Thank you, thank you. You're the best ever."

Geillis arms went around her and hugged her tight. "Just keep yer promise ye'll be safe, Claire. That's all I ask."

"I'll be safe," Claire promised.

..........

Breathe in, breathe out. Go for it, Beauchamp!

Claire nervously tugged the collar of her simple white button-down shirt, smoothed down her grey skirt, and opened the gilded double doors. Taking deep fortifying breaths, she walked to the reception counter, where a blonde woman, who looked more like a model than a secretary, took her name and told her to have a seat. Looking around the waiting area, everyone seemed to be either wearing designer clothes or the latest trend in fashion. Obviously, they were here to impress and become the next big thing. But that didn't surprise her at all as  Gerald Forbes Talent Agency was the most successful and sought after agency in Scotland. And from what she heard, Forbes personally hand-picked his own clients. Most probably trying to discern which of those that came to him would make him the most profit.

She subtly glanced down at her own attire before taking a seat, and she couldn't help but think how out of place she must look, but she didn't give a flying fig. It had been a deliberate choice of attire to wear for this meeting. She was here to confront Forbes and not to dazzle him. 

Taking in the lavish setting of her surrounding, she settled back on her seat watching staff walk in and out of offices as the ringing of phones drifted in the air. The wall behind the reception area was emblazoned with a large red logo of the company, and the foyer was dotted with comfortable leather chairs and small tables with magazines. The main desk was a chic contrasting of white and dark grey graphite tiles and boasted a variety of high-tech gadgets. Everything about this place exuded money and plenty of it, just like the clothes and perfume Forbes wore.

Claire had done her homework thoroughly, but it hadn't given her much. An extensive and time consuming online search informed her Forbes had razor-sharp business skills and never failed to deliver on his promise of success and prestige. His name was well-known in the industry where celebrities courted him to build them up and make them the best in their field. It was Forbes' job to step in, turn their career around for the better and get the best offer for their work. His record and reputation were impeccable, and he was known to possess the golden touch to raise and boost any profiles and have their talents if not nationally, internationally recognised and promoted.

He might have status and respect in this industry, but she wondered if there were others who have seen through his perfect facade and know him for the person he was.  And the million-pound question is, why does Forbes have such a keen interest in Jamie?  James Fraser was a former rugby player who no longer wanted any part in the celebrity world, other than to host or present rugby shows in a sports' network. Surely, with Forbes' reputation and his agency in demand, there were enough willing candidates who would be more than happy to make him more money. It didn't make any sense at all.  Were Jamie's endorsements all that lucrative?  One would think there were more profits to be made with his more renowned clients who were already under his wings.

"Ye may go in now, Ms Beauchamp."

Claire snapped out of her thoughts. She took a deep breath, forced a smile and grabbed her handbag. She was led down a complex maze of hallways to a modern cherrywood double door. A cold shiver abruptly raced down her spine, and she hesitated.  You can do this Beauchamp! Go and get him!  Before her bravado could desert her, she dug deep, reached for the doorknob, and marched right in. 

Forbes' office was decorated in dark woods and wine reds. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves took up the wall behind him with endless leather spines amidst odd figures of statues. The left wall had wood panelling and displayed the company's logo. His massive cherry desk took up half the room, probably its intention was to intimidate or to boast his importance. Forbes was perched on his red leather throne, studying her with an assessing air that stripped her of niceties and social barriers, somehow leaving her a bit vulnerable.

"Ah, Claire, we meet again. What do I owe the pleasure?" Forbes greeted, showing his perfect white teeth. "May I offer you coffee or tea?"

To Claire's annoyance, Forbes looked far too comfortable in his own skin, and he had that irritating smug grin plastered on his face. It was pertinent to go on the offence immediately. She decided to forget the script she'd mentally prepared for this meeting and aim straight to the point.

"Cut the bullshit, you bloody knob-head. This isn't a social visit. I know you were the one that spiked Jamie's drink and you used that girl in the club to do your dirty job," Claire accused, unable to contain the anger bubbling inside her. "You could have killed Jamie!"

He laughed. "Don't be so dramatic. He's fine."

"You fool! He'd already had alcohol before you spiked his drink. He was unwell, and he could have drowned in his own vomit. Did you ever consider that?"

Forbes didn't react, nor did he looked guilty. If anything, he seemed like he was enjoying himself watching her all riled up. "Ah, such a little spitfire you are but so, so naive," he sniggered, clasping his hands on the desk as he leaned forward. "What are you going to do? Tell the authorities? You have to prove it, darling, because I got myself and all evidence covered. And in-between I've even done a background check on you just in case you became trouble. And if you think anyone will believe you and your accusations, you have another thing coming. I've been in this business for far too long. And if you speak a peep about this, Jamie's fans will only see you as a trollop who left their fiance at the altar because you were having an affair with a former rugby star and I will make sure to back up that story with a few quick calls at the news outlets. They love stories like these, did you know that? Maybe I should give Dr Randall a call and arrange with one of the newspapers to do an all-inclusive interview."

"B-but it would be just one side of the story, and everything would be taken out of context because what Frank would say in the interview are not how things are."

Forbes gave her a smug triumph look. "It doesn't really matter how things are or what the real truth is. All that will matter is how they seem and how they are perceive by the public, and I'm a total pro at making people believe whatever the fuck I want."

Ah, bloody hell! Where is a vase when you need one?  Thank God, Forbes didn't know the extent of Ned Gowan's investigation on Frank and the evidence that was piling against him. They weren't serious criminal offences, except for his attempted attack on her but severe enough for him to lose his licence and ruin his reputation. The inquiry had been made as quiet and understated as possible. As far as the news media knew, Frank was having a vacation to heal his broken heart. Nobody, not even his work colleagues, except for the board, knew about his suspension at the Royal Infirmary. It was all done in a hush-hush out of respect for the hospital.

She really needed to reign in her temper to get Forbes talking some more about the incident in the club.

"Why, Forbes? Why are you so hell-bent in destroying Jamie? Like what you said, he's a former rugby star ..."

"I made him a star," he interrupted, raising his voice. This time, the smug grin melted away and in its place was a wicked sneer. "Do you think he'd be as rich as he is today without me? That wanker should be kneeling before me and thanking me for all the things I've done for him. And not making noises about wanting a private life. There is no private life once you sign up for my agency. Stars have no privacy."

"You didn't make him a star, you twit!" she almost spat. "Jamie was good at what he did because he worked hard. He didn't rely solely on his innate talent. Jamie grafted and trained longer and was more driven than his peers. You think he received BBC Sports Personality of the Decade because you happened to be his agent? Get a grip of yourself! He won it on his own merits. You were just someone who swooped in on him when he began to make headlines early in his career. You saw the potential to make money out of him, and you wanted a piece of the cake. And now he's a retired rugby player, you want to squeeze out every penny you can get out of him. Where does it end, Forbes, huh?"

He casually reclined back on his chair with his hands at the back of his head and placed his Italian designer shoes clad feet on the edge of his desk, crossing them at his ankle. He was studying her intensely as if trying to figure out if she was a threat to him or not. She needed to be careful what came out of her mouth if she wanted to keep him talking. 

"It's nothing personal, and it's purely business," he shrugged unaffected by her agitation. "This is my business, and I'm here to make money, and the only way I can do that is to ensure my clients get top cash and recognition. One thing you need to understand ...Jamie is a brand and all I was doing whatever's necessary to ensure he continued being valuable to me. But ever since he met you, he'd become a liability. Yeah ...yeah sure ...you lured him out of his cave and yadah - yadah, thanks to you, Jamie's whole again. But he would have done that on his own eventually. He needed time to sulk and get used to the idea of not ever playing rugby again, but I had a job with a fat contract lined up for him. Something I knew that would perk his interest. And I didn't work this hard and used valuable resources and time to get him the best deal so that he can throw that privacy card at me. It's bollocks. He knew what he was signing up for when he came to me. And now he's throwing that all away because of you? Well, no one fucks with me and gets away with it. I can end him in a blink of an eye and I will."

"Yeah ...end him by spiking his drink? What did you hope to gain by doing that?" she whispered, a sickening coldness coasting down her back.

He let out a sinister laugh. "Ah, you catch up well. I must say you're not just another pretty face. But I shouldn't be surprised. You're a doctor, and you're supposed to be the smart one." He sighed. "Yes, I spiked his drink and invited the lovestruck Morag to join us. The lovely lass was infatuated and couldn't keep her hands off him, and drunk-high Jamie thought she was you. But unfortunately for me, I underestimated you. You're a resilient one ...a resilient pain in the arse. I didn't think you'd still want to be associated with Jamie when their photo went viral. I guess love conquers all and all that bullshit."

"You ...you were the one that made that photo go viral!" she hissed.

"Of course, I did. The whole scenario was like a godsend, and I couldn't waste such an opportunity," he gloated. "And I wasn't about to let Jamie get away lightly after everything I've worked for so he could just nail a nobody like you who gives me zero promotional traction."

In all her life, she'd never wanted to physically hurt someone nor had she ever wished ill of anyone, but right now, she was itching to knee Gerald Forbes' hard on the groin. "You evil bastard! I bet it was you as well that sold the rest of the photos and video to the news outlet."

He lifted his shoulders without a hint of guilt or shame. "Someone needs to profit off the bottom-feeders, and I figured it might as well be me."

"You're the lowest of the low ..."

Forbes looked at her with feigned sympathy. "Did you really think you and Jamie would work as a couple? Answer me, honestly." The condescending tone in his voice made her blood boil. "It's true he might not need me now, but for how long? Getting his dream job would be the least of Jamie's problem after the award he received. Offers and endorsements will pour out by the bucket loads, there's no doubt about that. But picture yourself next to him in a public event. I mean, sure you're beautiful and photogenic, but at the end of the day, you're a nobody. In every single photograph, you'd be constantly cropped out, because his fans and the media don't give a fuck about you. Your fifteen-minute of fame as a runaway bride is steeped in scandal and gossip, and every time Jamie makes the headlines, your story will always be brought up, and if he hadn't fired me, it's something I could eradicate with a snap of my fingers. And without my help, all the negative publicity will eventually harm his career, and your presence won't be doing him any favours, especially if he wants to work for a family-friendly sports network. And as for you, the best you can expect is to be ignored, but most likely, you'd be hated and trolled online. And one day, he will wake up and realise his mistake, and he will blame it all on you. All the women who love The Jamie Fantasy would see you as an obstacle to their fantasy. "

Claire gasped. "And Geneva isn't an obstacle? Are you even listening to yourself?"

"No, Geneva is the fantasy despite the doping gossip surrounding her. But I'm working on it to banish the rumour. In mostly everyone's eyes, she is Britain's sport princess. And it helps too that Jamie and Geneva have a history, and the fans love the idea of them together. They would have been the  David and Victoria Beckham of rugby , rich, successful and beautiful as a couple. And you ... you'd only be the harsh reality. And let me tell you, in this industry, the fantasy is going to win out every time. The best thing you can do right now if you truly love Jamie is to talk some sense into him and make yourself scarce. Let him thrive in the world he's meant for, and you can go back to playing doctor where you're meant to be."

Bile rose to her throat. "You're unbelievable, you know that? You're willing to whitewash Geneva's wrongdoing all because you want to sell an image or save her reputation? How much did her father pay you for that?"

Forbes suddenly got up and pressed a wooden panel behind him. It noiselessly opened up, revealing a minibar. He poured himself a whisky and gestured with a wave of his hand if she wanted one. She ignored the offer.

Shrugging, he sat back down and smirked, twirling the whisky tumbler in one hand and sniffing it. "William Dunsany paid me enough to afford me a five-bedroom property in Devon," he answered finally, looking mightily pleased with himself.

"People like you are what's wrong with the world. You are part of a small group that taints sports or whatever you touch. You have no integrity and no honour. And one day you'll pay heavily for this, mark my words," she fumed. She straightened her spine and jutted her chin. "And meanwhile, if you know what's good for you, you'll stay the bloody hell away from Jamie ..."

"Or what Claire?" He gave her a menacing look, making goosebumps prickle all over her arms and behind her neck. He had the same blue eyes as Jamie but Forbes' was cold and odious. "...you'll wave your scalpel at me and shoo me away? Well, do your worse. As I said, I have everything covered, and nothing and no one can touch me. And as for Jamie, I'm not done with him yet ..."

She couldn't bear another second in his presence. Without a word, she turned around and walked out of his office, her heart hammering painfully in her chest. His repulsive laughter echoed in her ears as she navigated the intricate hallways.

Go! Go! Keep walking!  When she finally made it to the foyer, she relaxed a bit, and without glancing at the receptionist, she hurried out of the entrance. Once outside, she put on her sunglasses even though it was a cloudy day and crossed the road. Halfway, the backdoor of a white van parked at the curb opened. She looked to her left and then to her right. Satisfied no one was watching her, she quickly hopped into the back of the vehicle.

"How did I do?" she breathed, whipping off her sunglasses and tugging the wires under her shirt. "Did you get everything?"

Rupert MacKenzie and Angus Mhor, the two investigative reporters who'd been lurking outside her cottage and Jamie's apartment building weeks ago, grinned at her as they high-fived each other.

"We have everything loud and clear," Rupert laughed, rubbing his hands together.

"Och aye, Forbes will regret the day he messed with Ms Claire Beauchamp's boyfriend. This is pure gold!" Angus chortled, opening a bottle of whisky and pouring a glass for her. "Here, ye'll need this to calm yersel' down."

Claire didn't hesitate as she took the glass and downed the drink in one go. She winced as the heat burned her throat, but it did help to soothe her nerves.

"So, what now?" Rupert asked, a huge smile still plastered to his face

"Take me to the Royal Infirmary, please. I have a patient to take care of."