“Okay,” Bree said, and opened it. “Do you like green eggs and ham? I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.”
“What?” said Fanny incredulously, and moved to peer over Bree’s shoulder, closely accompanied by Germain.
“What is that?” Germain asked, fascinated.
“Sam-I-Am!” Mandy said crossly, and jabbed a finger at the page. “He gots a sign!”
“Ah, oui. And what’s the other thing, then? A Who-Are-You?”
That made Fanny, Jemmy, and Roger laugh, which turned Mandy incandescent with rage. She might not have the red hair, I thought, but she had the Fraser temper, in spades.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” she shrieked, and scrambling to her feet made for Germain with the obvious intent of disemboweling him with her bare hands.
“Whoa!” Roger snared her deftly and lifted her off her feet. “Calm down, sweetheart, he didn’t mean—”
I could have told him—but if he hadn’t learned it from sharing a household with assorted Frasers for years, it wouldn’t do any good to tell him now—that the very last thing you should say to one in full roar was “Calm down.” Like putting out an oil fire on your stove by throwing a glass of water on it.
“He did!” Mandy bellowed, struggling madly in her father’s grip. “I hate him, he wuined it, it’s all wuined! Leggo, I hate you, too!” She started kicking, dangerously in the vicinity of her father’s crotch, and he instinctively held her out, away from him.
Jamie reached out, wrapped an arm round her middle, gathered her in, and put a big hand on the nape of her neck.
“Hush, a nighean,” he said, and she did. She was panting like a little steam engine, red-faced and teary, but she stopped.
“We’ll step outside for a moment, shall we?” he said to her, and nodded to the rest of the assembled company. “No one’s to touch her book while we’re gone. D’ye hear?”
There was a faint murmur of assent, succeeded by total silence as Jamie and Mandy disappeared into the night.
“The cookies!” Smelling the strong scent of incipient scorching, I darted to the oven, snatched the girdle out, and hastily flipped the cookies off onto the Big Plate—the only pottery dish we owned at the moment, but capable of holding anything up to a small turkey.
“Are the cookies okay?” Jem, with a total disregard for his sister’s immediate prospects, hurried over to look.
“Yes,” I assured him. “A bit brown at the edges, but perfectly fine.”
Fanny had come, too, but was less intent on gluttony.
“Will Mr. Fraser whip her?” she whispered, looking anxious.
“No,” Germain assured her. “She’s too little.”
“Oh, no, she’s not,” Jemmy assured him, with a wary glance at his mother, whose face was distinctly flushed, if not quite as red as Mandy’s.
All the children had clustered round me, whether out of interest in cookies or from self-preservation. I lifted an eyebrow at Roger, who went and sat down beside Brianna. I turned my back, to allow a little marital privacy, and sent Fanny and Jem out to fetch the big pitcher of milk, presently hanging in the well—and I did hope none of the local frogs had decided to avail themselves, in defiance of the stone-weighted cloth I’d draped over the pitcher’s mouth.
“I’m sorry, Grannie.” Germain edged close to me, low-voiced. “I didna mean to cause a stramash, truly.”
“I know, sweetheart. Everybody knows, except Mandy. And Grandda will explain it to her.”
“Oh.” He relaxed at once, having total faith in his grandfather’s ability to charm anything from an unbroken horse to a rabid hedgehog.
“Go get the mugs,” I told him. “Everyone will be back soon.”
The tin mugs had been rinsed after dinner and left upside down to dry on the stoop; Germain hurried out, carefully not looking at Bree.
Germain thought she was angry with him, but it was apparent to me that she was upset, not angry. And no wonder, I thought sympathetically. She’d tried so hard, for so long, to keep Jem and Mandy safe—and happy. First, during Roger’s long and harrowing absence, and then the search to find him, the trip through the stones, and the long journey here. Little wonder that her nerves were still on edge. Luckily, Roger’s instincts as a husband were quite good; he had his arm round her and her head resting on his shoulder, and was murmuring things to her, too low for me to catch the words, but the tone of it was love and reassurance, and the lines of her face were smoothing out.