Outlander aka Cross Stitch - Gabaldon Diana - Страница 101

The soldiers had not returned Jamie to the cell he had shared with three other prisoners. Instead, he was put into a small room by himself, to await Friday’s reckoning with no distractions save the daily visit of the garrison’s physician, who came to dress his back.

“He wasna much of a doctor,” Jamie said, “but he was kindly enough. The second day he came, along wi’ the goose grease and charcoal, he brought me a small Bible that belonged to a prisoner who’d died. Said he understood I was a Papist, and whether I found the word of God any comfort or not, at least I could compare my troubles with Job’s.” He laughed.

“Oddly enough, it was some comfort. Our Lord had to put up wi’ being scourged too; and I could reflect that at least I wasna going to be hauled out and crucified afterward. On the other hand,” he said judiciously, “Our Lord wasna forced to listen to indecent proposals from Pontius Pilate, either.”

Jamie had kept the small Bible. He rummaged in his saddlebag, and handed it across now for me to look at. It was a worn, leather-covered volume, about five inches long, printed on paper so flimsy the print showed through from one side of each page to the other. On the flyleaf was written ALEXANDER WILLIAM RODERICK MACGREGOR, 1733. The ink was faded and blurred, and the covers warped as though the book had gotten wet on more than one occasion.

I turned the little book over curiously. Small as it was, it must have cost something in effort to keep it by him, through the travels and adventures of the last four years.

“I’ve never seen you read it,” I handed it back.

“No, that’s not why I keep it,” he said. He tucked it away, stroking the edge of the worn cover with a thumb as he did so. He patted the saddlebag absently.

“There’s a debt owing to Alex MacGregor; I mean to collect it sometime.

“Anyway,” he continued, returning to his story, “Friday came at last, and I don’t know whether I was glad or sorry to see it. The waiting and the fear were almost worse than I thought the pain would be. When it came, though…” He made that odd half-shrugging gesture of his, easing the shirt across his back. “Well, you’ve seen the marks. You know what it was like.”

“Only because Dougal told me. He said he was there.”

Jamie nodded. “Aye, he was there. And my father as well, though I didna know it at the time. I’d no mind for anything much beyond my own problems, then.”

“Oh,” I said slowly, “and your father-”

“Mmm. That’s when it happened. Some of the men there told me after that they thought I was dead, halfway through, and I reckon my father thought so too.” He hesitated, and his voice was thick when he resumed. “When I fell, Dougal told me, my father made a small sound and put his hand to his head. Then he dropped like a rock. And did not get up again.”

The birds were moving in the heather, trilling and calling from the still-dark leaves of the trees. Jamie’s head was bowed, face still invisible.

“I did not know he was dead,” he said softly. “They didna tell me until a month later – when they thought I was strong enough to bear it. So I did not bury him, as his son should have done. And I have never seen his grave – because I am afraid to go home.”

“Jamie,” I said. “Oh, Jamie, dear.”

After what seemed a long silence, I said, “But you don’t – you can’t – feel responsible. Jamie, there was nothing you could have done; or done differently.”

“No?” he said. “No, maybe not; though I wonder would it still have happened, had I chosen the other way. But to know that does not much help the way I feel – and I feel as though I had done him to death with my own hands.”

“Jamie-” I said again, and stopped, helpless. He rode silently for a bit, then straightened up and squared his shoulders once more.

“I’ve not told anyone about it,” he said abruptly. “But I thought that now ye should know – about Randall, I mean. You’ve a right to know what it is that lies between him and me.”

What it is that lies between him and me. The life of a good man, the honor of a girl, and an indecent lust that found its vent in blood and fear. And, I supposed, with a lurch of the stomach, that there was now one more item weighting the scales. Me. For the first time, I began to realize what Jamie had felt, crouching in the window of Randall’s room, with an empty gun in his hand. And I began to forgive him for what he had done to me.

As though reading my mind, he said, not looking at me, “Do you know… I mean, can ye understand, maybe, why I thought it needful to beat you?”

I waited a moment before answering. I understood, all right, but that was not quite all there was to it.

“I understand,” I said. “And so far as that goes, I forgive you. What I can’t forgive,” I said, my voice rising slightly in spite of myself, “is that you enjoyed it!”

He bent forward in the saddle, clasping the pommel, and laughed for a long time. He reveled in the release of tension before finally tossing his head back and turning to me. The sky was noticeably lighter now, and I could see his face, lined with exhaustion, strain, and mirth. The scratches down his cheek were black in the dim light.

“Enjoyed it! Sassenach,” he said, gasping, “you don’t know just how much I enjoyed it. You were so… God, you looked lovely. I was so angry, and you fought me so fierce. I hated to hurt you, but I wanted to do it at the same time… Jesus,” he said, breaking off and wiping his nose, “yes. Yes, I did enjoy it.

“Though come to that,” he said, “you might give me some credit for exercising restraint.”

I was getting rather angry again. I could feel my cheeks flushing hotly against the cool dawn air.

“Restraint, was it? I was under the impression that what you were exercising was your good left arm. You almost crippled me, you arrogant Scottish bastard!”

“Did I want to cripple ye, Sassenach, you’d know it,” he answered dryly. “I meant afterward. I slept on the floor, if ye recall.”

I eyed him narrowly, breathing through my nose. “Oh, so that was restraint, was it?”

“Well, I didna think it right to roger you in that state, however fierce I wanted to. And I did want to,” he added, laughing again. “Terrible strain on my natural instincts.”

“Roger me?” I said, diverted by the expression.

“I would hardly call it ‘love-making’ under the circumstances, would you?”

“Whatever you might call it,” I said evenly, “it’s a good thing you didn’t try it, or you’d now be missing a few valued bits of your anatomy.”

“That thought occurred to me.”

“And if you think you deserve applause for nobly refraining from committing rape on top of assault-” I choked on my choler.

We rode a half-mile or so in silence. Then he heaved a sigh. “I can see I should not have started this conversation. What I was tryin’ to do was to work up to asking ye would you allow me to share your bed again, once we get to Bargrennan.” He paused shyly. “It’s a bit cold on the floor.”

I rode for a good five minutes before answering. When I had decided what to say, I reined in, turning across the road, so as to force Jamie to stop as well. Bargrennan was in sight, rooftops just visible in the dawning light.

I urged my horse parallel with the other, so that I was no more than a foot away from Jamie. I looked him in the eye for a minute before speaking.

“Will you do me the honor of sharing my bed, O lord and master?” I asked politely.

Obviously suspecting something, he considered a moment, then nodded, just as formally. “I will. Thank you.” He was raising the reins to go when I stopped him.

“There’s just one more thing, master,” I said, still polite.

“Aye?”

I whipped my hand from the concealed pocket in my skirt, and the dawn light struck sparks from the blade of the dagger pressed against his chest.

“If,” I said through my teeth, “you ever raise a hand to me again, James Fraser, I’ll cut out your heart and fry it for breakfast!”