jamie fraser · outlander · scottish highlands · 18th century · historical romance · jealous · possessive · laird · sword fighting · time travel
The forest roared under Jamie’s fury. Every swing of the axe hit the wood with a violence that sent splinters flying like shrapnel. His breath came in ragged pulls, his eyes fixed on the intrusive memory of her laughing with another man. The tension in his shoulders was a living thing—a tormenting mix of want and rage that consumed his very spirit. She wasn’t his wife. She wasn’t his sweetheart. But jealousy burned in his chest like a peat fire. What right did that man have? What right did *he* have to feel this way? Trunks fell into pieces around him, mute witnesses to the torment inside. His knuckles were white from the grip, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. Was he condemned to this endless anger? To walk through life carrying the weight of a love that could never be? The wood…