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Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone (Outlander #9)(96)

Author:Diana Gabaldon

“Your, um”—Mr. Granger, belatedly recalling my presence, turned to look at me—“woman suggested that we might find shelter from the storm here. But if our presence is inconvenient …”

“Not at all.” Jamie’s mouth twitched slightly as he looked me over. “Allow me to introduce my wife, sir—Mrs. General Fraser.”

FANNY APPEARED IN the doorway, coming to see what Bluebell was barking about now, with Brianna behind her. Jamie made the introductions, then motioned the visitors into the house and raised a brow at Bree, who nodded obligingly.

“My daughter will see to your needs, gentlemen. I’ll join ye shortly.”

He waited just long enough for them to go inside before turning to me.

“What the devil have ye been doing, Sassenach?” he hissed.

“Delivering pigs,” I said succinctly, and handed him the bundle of wet clothing, from which the unmistakable scent of porcine excrement still oozed, bearing witness to my story.

“Christ,” he said, holding the bundle out at arm’s length. “Frances, lass, take this, will ye? Soak it in something—or must it be burnt?” he asked, turning back to me.

“Soak them in cold water with soft soap and vinegar,” I said. “We’ll boil them later. And thank you, Fanny.”

She nodded and took the bundle, nose wrinkled.

“Who are these men?” Jamie asked, jerking his chin toward the door where Partland and Granger had disappeared. “And how the devil did ye come to be in their company in nothing but your shift?”

“I was washing in the creek when they turned up,” I said, rather irritated. “I didn’t invite them to join me.”

“No, of course not.” He took a breath and began to calm down. “I just didna like the way the younger one was looking at ye.”

“Neither did I. As for who they are—” I began, but was interrupted by Fanny, who was headed for the side yard and the laundry tub with Bluebell, but turned round at this.

“The young one is an officer,” she said, and nodded in affirmation of her observations. “They always think they can do anything they want.”

I stared after her, nonplussed, as she vanished.

“They don’t look like soldiers,” I said, with a shrug. “The older one called me ‘my good woman,’ though. They probably thought I was your skivvy.”

“My what?” He looked startled, and then offended.

“Oh—it just means a cleaning woman,” I said, realizing that he’d leapt to a not-unreasonable eighteenth-century interpretation of the meaning of “skivvy.” “Anyway, they said they were looking for Captain Cunningham. And as it was about to rain …”

It was. The wind was moving through the grass and through leaves and needles and twigs; the whole forest was breathing and the clouds had covered more than half the sky, big, black, and dangerous with flickering lightning.

Brianna came out, holding a towel, and offered it to me.

“I put those men in your study, Da,” she said. “Is that all right?”

“Aye, fine,” he assured her.

“Wait, Bree,” I said, emerging from the towel as she turned to go. “Would you and Fanny go down to the root cellar and fetch up some vegetables and maybe … I don’t know, something sweet—jam, raisins … We’ll have to feed them, whoever they are.”

“Sure,” she said. “You don’t know who they are?”

“Fanny says the young one is an officer,” Jamie said. “Beyond that—we’ll see. Come along in, Sassenach,” he said, putting an arm about me to shepherd me inside. “Ye need to get dry—”

“And clothed.”

“Aye, that, too.”

THE ROOT CELLAR wasn’t a long walk from the smoke shed, but it was on the other side of the big clearing, and the wind, unobstructed by trees or buildings, rushed them from behind, blowing their skirts out before them and whipping Fanny’s cap off her head.

Brianna got a hand up and snatched the scrap of muslin as it whirled past. Her own hair, unbound, was flailing round her face, and so was Fanny’s. They looked at each other, half-blinded, and laughed. Then the first drops of rain began to fall, and they ran, gasping and shrieking for the shelter of the root cellar.

It was dug into the side of a hill, a rough wooden door framed in with stacked stone on either side. The door stuck in its jamb, but Bree freed it with a mighty jerk and they fell inside, damp-spotted but safe from the downpour that now commenced outside.

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