I will 'oh fiddle' you as much as I want! she thinks right back, her own mouth pouting slightly. This is hardly an ideal situation for either of us--

Jamie's images flood Victoria's brain and, much like watching a movie about yourself, she instantly stops speaking and sees herself unconscious somewhere she does not recognize in an outfit that she could not honestly see herself wearing right now. At first she thinks it might be Jamie having less than pure thoughts and is about to scold him, until she realize that she can almost feel his pain from seeing her like that.

It happened. She's not sure how she knows, but she knows it happened somewhere. Somehow. Is it a represed memory? That would have gotten her to calm down a bit if not for what came next.

Victoria did sleep with a blouse, or what was akin to one as every proper lady in her time did, but the fact is very few people had seen it apart from her, as she tended to get dressed in her room after a bath.

The strange feeling of dread and sadness is quickly buried into an inferno of her privacy being breached. not quite his fault, true, but he didn't have to do that. Her eyebrows visibly lower, as she crosses her arms. Jamie can most certainly feel that hell hath no fury like a woman scorn (although more like peeked at).

It took about ten seconds for Victoria to speak, but honestly? They might have felt like minutes, even hours for Jamie.

James Robert McCrimmon, this will be the last time you will never, ever do that without my permission, do you understand?

All things considered he was lucky to get away with nothing but just a few harsh words. At least for now.