Jamie snorted. "Not kindness. That was one of the conditions I set for takin' ye. I said I'd wed if I must, but damned if I'd consummate my marriage under a bush, wi' twenty clansmen lookin' on and offering advice."
I stopped, staring at him. So that was what the shouting had been about.
"One of the conditions?" I said, slowly. "And what were the others?"
It was growing too dark to see his face clearly, but I thought he seemed embarrassed.
"Only two others," he said finally.
"Which were?"
"Well," he said, kicking a pebble diffidently out of the way, "I said ye must wed me proper, in kirk, before a priest. Not just by contract. As for the other—he must find ye a suitable gown to be wed in." He looked away, avoiding my gaze, and his voice was so soft I could scarcely hear him.
"I—I knew ye didna wish to wed. I wanted to make it… as pleasant as might be for you. I thought ye might feel a bit less… well, I wanted ye to have a decent dress, is all."
I opened my mouth to say something, but he turned away, toward the inn.
"Come along, Sassenach," he said gruffly. "I'm hungry."
The price of food was company, as was obvious from the moment of our appearance at the door of the inn's main room. We were greeted by raucous cheers, and hurriedly pushed into seats at the table, where a hearty supper was already in progress.
Having been somewhat prepared this time, I didn't mind the rough jests and crude remarks at our expense. For once, I was pleased to be modestly self-effacing, scrunching back into the corner and leaving Jamie to deal with the rough teasing and bawdy speculations about what we had been doing all day.
"Sleeping," said Jamie, in answer to one question of this sort. "Didna catch a wink last night." The roars of laughter that greeted this were topped by louder ones as he added in confidential tones, "She snores, ye ken."
I obligingly cuffed his ear, and he gathered me to him and kissed me soundly, to general applause.
After supper there was dancing, to the accompaniment of the landlord's fiddle. I had never been much of a dancer, being rather prone to trip over my own feet in times of stress. I scarcely expected that I would do better, attired in long skirts and clumsy footgear. Once I had shed the clogs, though, I was surprised to find that I danced with no difficulty and great enjoyment.
Women being in short supply, the innkeeper's wife and I tucked up our skirts and danced jigs and reels and strathspeys without ceasing, until I had to stop and lean against the settle, red-faced and gasping for breath.
The men were absolutely indefatigable, whirling about like plaid tops, by themselves or with each other. Finally, they stood back against the wall, watching, cheering and clapping, as Jamie took both my hands and led me through something fast and frantic called "The Cock o' the North."
Ending up by forethought near the stair, we swirled to a close with his arm about my waist. Here we paused, and he made a short speech, mixed in Gaelic and English, which was received with further applause, particularly when he reached into his sporran and tossed a small wash-leather bag to the landlord, instructing that worthy to serve whisky so long as it lasted. I recognized it as his share of the wagers from his fight at Tunnaig. Likely all the money he had in the world; I thought it could not have been better spent.
We had made it up to the balcony, followed by a hail of indelicate good wishes, when a voice louder than the others called Jamie's name.
Turning, I saw Rupert's broad face, redder than usual above its bush of black beard, grinning up from below.
"No good, Rupert," called Jamie. "She's mine."
"Wasted on ye, lad," said Rupert, mopping his face with his sleeve. "She'll ha' ye on the floor in an hour. No stayin' power, these young lads," he called to me. "Ye want a man who doesna waste his time sleepin', lass, let me know. In the meantime…" He flung something upward.
A fat little bag clanked on the floor at my feet.
"A wedding present," he called. "Courtesy of the men of the Shimi Bogil Watch."
"Eh?" Jamie stooped to pick it up.
"Some of us dinna spend our day idlin' about the grassy banks, lad," he said reprovingly, rolling his eyes lewdly at me. "That money was hard earned."
"Oh, aye," said Jamie, grinning. "Dice or cards?"
"Both." A raffish grin split the black beard. "Skint 'em to the bone, lad. To the bone!"
Jamie opened his mouth, but Rupert held up a broad, callused palm.