Dragonfly In Amber - Gabaldon Diana. Страница 146

Jamie paused, looking back, and smiled, the candle lighting his eyes with warmth.

“You, too, mo brathair.”

I followed Jamie down the hall to our own room. I could tell from the slump of his shoulders that he was tired, but I had a few questions I wanted to ask before he fell asleep.

“It’s only bruises here and there,” Ian had said, reassuring Jenny. It was. Here and there. Besides the bruises on his face and leg, I had seen the darkened marks that lay half-hidden under the collar of his shirt. No matter how much Ian’s intrusion had been resented, I couldn’t imagine a mole trying to strangle him in retaliation.

In the event, Jamie didn’t want to sleep at once.

“Oh, absence makes the heart grow fonder, does it?” I said. The bed, so vast the night before, now seemed scarcely big enough.

“Mm?” he said, eyes half-closed in content. “Oh, the heart? Aye, that, too. Oh, God, don’t stop; that feels wonderful.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll do it some more,” I assured him. “Let me put out the candle, though.” I rose and blew it out; with the shutters left open, there was plenty of light reflected into the room from the snowy sky, even without the candle’s flame. I could see Jamie clearly, the long shape of his body relaxed beneath the quilts, hands curled half-open at his side. I crawled in beside him and took up his right hand, resuming my slow massage of his fingers and palm.

He gave a long sigh, almost a groan, as I rubbed a thumb in firm circles over the pads at the base of his fingers. Stiffened by hours of clenching around his horse’s reins, the fingers warmed and relaxed slowly under my touch. The house was quiet, and the room cold, outside the sanctuary of the bed. It was pleasant to feel the length of his body warming the space beside me, and enjoy the intimacy of touch, with no immediate feeling of demand. In time, this touch might token more; it was winter, and the nights were long. He was there; so was I, and content with things as they were for the moment.

“Jamie,” I said, after a time, “who hurt Ian?”

He didn’t open his eyes, but gave a long sigh before answering. He didn’t stiffen in resistance, though; he had been expecting the question.

“I did,” he said.

“What?” I dropped his hand in shock. He closed his fist and opened it, testing the movement of his fingers. Then he laid his left hand on the counter-pane beside it, showing me the knuckles, slightly puffed by contact with the protuberances of Ian’s bony countenance.

“Why?” I said, appalled. I could tell that there was something new and edgy between Jamie and Ian, though it didn’t look exactly like hostility. I couldn’t imagine what might have made Jamie strike Ian; his brother-in-law was nearly as close to him as was his sister, Jenny.

Jamie’s eyes were open now, but not looking at me. He rubbed his knuckles restlessly, looking down at them. Aside from the mild bruising of his knuckles, there were no marks on Jamie; apparently Ian hadn’t fought back.

“Well, Ian’s been married too long,” he said defensively.

“I’d say you’d been out in the sun too long,” I remarked, staring at him, “except that there isn’t any. Have you got a fever?”

“No,” he said, evading my attempts to feel his forehead. “No, it’s only – stop that, Sassenach, I’m all right.” He pressed his lips together, but then gave up and told me the whole story.

Ian had in fact broken his wooden leg by stepping into a molehole near Broch Mordha.

“It was near evening – we’d had a lot to do in the village – and snowing. And I could see Ian’s leg was paining him a lot, even though he kept insisting he could ride. Anyway, there were two or three cottages near, so I got him up on one of the ponies, and brought him up the slope to beg shelter for the night.”

With characteristic Highland hospitality, both shelter and supper were offered with alacrity, and after a warm bowl of brose and fresh oatcake, both visitors had been accommodated with a pallet before the fire.

“There was scarce room to lay a quilt by the hearth, and we were squeezed a bit, but we lay down side by side and made ourselves as comfortable as might be.” He drew a deep breath, and looked at me half-shyly.

“Well, I was worn out by the journey, and slept deep, and I suppose Ian did the same. But he’s slept every night wi’ Jenny for the last five years, and I suppose, havin’ a warm body next to him in the bed – well, somewhere in the night, he rolled toward me, put his arm about me and kissed me on the back o’ the neck. And I” – he hesitated, and I could see the deep color flood his face, even in the grayish light of the snow-lit room – “I woke from a sound sleep, thinking he was Jack Randall.”

I had been holding my breath through this story; now I let it out slowly.

“That must have been the hell of a shock,” I said.

One side of Jamie’s mouth twitched. “It was the hell of a shock to Ian, I’ll tell ye,” he said. “I rolled over and punched him in the face, and by the time I came all the way to myself, I was on top of him, throttling him, wi’ his tongue sticking out of his head. Hell of a shock to the Murrays in the bed, too,” he added reflectively. “I told them I’d had a nightmare – well, I had, in a way – but it caused the hell of a stramash, what wi’ the bairns shriekin’, and Ian choking in the corner, and Mrs. Murray sittin’ bolt upright in bed, sayin’ ‘Who, who?’ like a wee fat owl.”

I laughed despite myself at the image.

“Oh God, Jamie. Was Ian all right?”

Jamie shrugged a little. “Well, ye saw him. Everyone went back to sleep, after a time, and I just lay before the fire for the rest of the night, staring at the roof beams.” He didn’t resist as I picked up his left hand, gently stroking the bruised knuckles. His fingers closed over mine, holding them.

“So when we left the next morning,” he went on, “I waited ’til we’d come to a spot where ye can sit and look over the valley below. And then” – he swallowed, and his hand tightened slightly on mine – “I told him. About Randall. And everything that happened.”

I began to understand the ambiguity of the look Ian had given Jamie. And I now understood the look of strain on Jamie’s face, and the smudges under his eyes. Not knowing what to say, I just squeezed his hands.

“I hadna thought I’d ever tell anyone – anyone but you,” he added, returning the squeeze. He smiled briefly, then pulled one hand away to rub his face.

“But Ian… well, he’s…” He groped for the right word. “He knows me, d’ye see?”

“I think so. You’ve known him all your life, haven’t you?”

He nodded, looking sightlessly out the window. The swirling snow had begun to fall again, small flakes dancing against the pane, whiter than the sky.

“He’s only a year older than me. When I was growing, he was always there. Until I was fourteen, there wasna a day went by when I didna see Ian. And even later, after I’d gone to foster wi’ Dougal, and to Leoch, and then later still to Paris, to university – when I’d come back, I’d walk round a corner and there he would be, and it would be like I’d never left. He’d just smile when he saw me, like he always did, and then we’d be walkin’ away together, side by side, ower the fields and the streams, talkin’ of everything.” He sighed deeply, and rubbed a hand through his hair.

“Ian… he’s the part of me that belongs here, that never left,” he said, struggling to explain. “I thought… I must tell him; I didna want to feel… apart. From Ian. From here.” He gestured toward the window, then turned toward me, eyes dark in the dim light. “D’ye see why?”

“I think so,” I said again, softly. “Did Ian?”

He made that small, uncomfortable shrugging motion, as though easing a shirt too tight across his back. “Well, I couldna tell. At first, when I began to tell him, he just kept shaking his head, as though he couldna believe me, and then when he did-” He paused and licked his lips, and I had some idea of just how much that confession in the snow had cost him. “I could see he wanted to jump to his feet and stamp back and forth, but he couldn’t, because of his leg. His fists were knotted up, and his face was white, and he kept saying ‘How? Damn ye, Jamie, how could ye let him do it?’ ”