Chapter 13 - A Marriage is Announced

Wow, what an interesting chapter. This one definitely runs the gamut from disorientation, to pain and suffering, to, well, let's just say unusually motivated legal agreements.

At first I couldn't figure out what Dougal was doing. Obviously he was taken aback by the bitter cruelty of Randall punching Claire. But why in the heck would he be taking Claire out into the the woods essentially to tell her the story about Jamie?

...hereabouts, ladies are generally not exposed to such sights as floggings. Have ye ever seen one?”"

No, nor do I much want to,” I responded sharply. “I can imagine what it would take to make marks like the ones on Jamie’s back, though.” 

Dougal shook his head, flipping water out of the pool at a curious jay that ventured close. “Now, there you’re wrong, lass, and you’ll pardon my saying so. Imagination is all verra well, but it isna equal to the sight of a man having his back laid open. A verra nasty thing—it’s meant to break a man, and most often it succeeds.”  

And on it goes; the nerve-wracking anticipation, the defiant endurance, all to demonstrate a wickedness in Randall that we could already guess at, but there it was, spelled out in all of its bloody cruelty for all to see. As profoundly moving and heroic as that story about Jamie being flogged was, it made no sense to me why Dougal was telling Claire all of that back story, until she asked him that very same question.

Everything was quiet in the small glade except for the faint rush of wind through the leaves of the rowan tree. I closed my eyes and listened to it for some time. “Why?” I asked finally, eyes still closed. “Why did you tell me?”

Dougal was watching me intently when I opened my eyes. I dipped a hand in the spring again, and applied the cool water to my temples. “I thought it might serve as what ye may call a character illustration,” he said.

"Of Randall?” I uttered a short, mirthless laugh. “I don’t need any further evidence as to his character, thank you.”

“Of Randall,” he agreed, “and Jamie too.”  

So here it comes: the Plan. In order to spare Claire from having to be delivered to this maniacal Randall, who now (and I'm sure in greater detail to come) is even more confirmedly wicked, Dougal suggests that she marry Jamie to become a Scot and avoid being handed over to his evilness. It keeps her safe and gets him off the hook for not delivering her, and Jamie...well, Jamie gets, y'know...Claire.

What?! Married?! Okay so let's just pause here for a moment and reflect. When you have finished pausing and reflecting, please come back and finish reading.

Are you done now? Okay, good. (If you did get a snack, be sure to clean your fingers so the keyboard and mouse don't get sticky).

So, if you remember, I originally agreed to read at least 200 pages of this book, for I was told by Debby Kennedy that by then I would be hooked. In good faith, not only did I commit to read the whole book, I also agreed to document my thoughts through each chapter. So, here I am, only a hundred and seventy-seven pages into this thing, and already Claire and Jamie are getting married!! I mean, in any other story, we're basically done! Just get Claire back to the stones, a heart-breaking scene where she can no longer stay with Jamie who rescued her from the evil Randall, and be sucked back through the time-hole thing to be reunited with her true husband Frank, only to reminisce longingly about her adventures in the 18th century, where, as the story closes, now in her old age, Frank has died, and in a fit of aged introspection she travels back to Craigh na Dunh only to find a now-ancient carving of Jamie's undying love for her for all time, aaaaaaand fade to black. End of story.

Yeah. Not with Diana. I can see how this is going to go. This is why she couldn't sell the movie rights to just have this story be a 2-1/2 hour movie, because we're already there, done! The whole story up to this point is a complete whole (with the modified, truncated ending, of course).

Um, I'm pretty sure with 7 more books already written (who knows how many more on the way), Diana's just getting warmed up. At this point in this first book, she hasn't even gone through her first bottle of Rhenish yet. With all of the background and history groundwork already laid, this story still has a million places to go. It's just like my eight-year-old daughter's really long feet; she's got to grow into them.

So, after all the wrangling that Dougal has done, they draw up the paperwork with the help of Ned Gowan:

...Dougal removed a chamber pot from its resting place on the table and fanned the sheets of paper out ceremoniously on the rough oak surface. “All done,” he said, with the pride of one who has shepherded a difficult project to a successful conclusion. “Ned’s drawn up the papers; nothing like a lawyer—so long as he’s on your side, eh, Ned?” 

The men all laughed, evidently in good humor. 

"Not really difficult, ye ken,” Ned said modestly. “It’s but a simple contract.”

A simple contract, yes, but a massive shift in the plot of the story, to be sure. Of course, Jamie's response to all of this Plan is just priceless:

“Did you know that Dougal wants us to marry?” I demanded bluntly.

His expression cleared. “Oh, aye. I knew that.”

"But surely,” I said, “a young man like yourself; I mean, isn’t there anyone else you’re, ah, interested in?”

He looked blank for a moment, then understanding dawned. “Oh, am I promised? Nay, I’m no much of a prospect for a girl.” He hurried on, as though feeling this might sound insulting. “I mean, I’ve no property to speak of, and nothing more than a soldier’s pay to live on.” He rubbed his chin, eyeing me dubiously. “Then there’s the minor difficulty that I’ve a price on my head. No father much wants his daughter married to a man as may be arrested and hanged any time. Did ye think of that?”

I flapped my hand, dismissing the matter of outlawry as a minor consideration, compared to the whole monstrous idea. I had one last try.“Does it bother you that I’m not a virgin?”

He hesitated a moment before answering. “Well, no,” he said slowly, “so long as it doesna bother you that I am.” He grinned at my drop-jawed expression, and backed toward the door. “Reckon one of us should know what they’re doing,” he said.

The door closed softly behind him; clearly the courtship was over.

What more can be said to that wonderful exchange? On to the wedding!