"How do you know?"
"I've talked with you a good deal; and listened to you besides. Dougal thinks you're French because you speak French well—verra well."
"Thank you," I said sarcastically. "And the fact that I speak French well proves I'm not French?"
He smiled and tightened his grip on my neck. "Vous parlez très bien—but not quite as well as I do," he added, dropping back into English. He released me suddenly. "I spent a year in France, after I left the castle, and two more later on with the army. I know a native speaker of French when I hear one. And French is not your mother tongue." He shook his head slowly.
"Spanish? Perhaps, but why? Spain's no interests in the Highlands. German? Surely not." He shrugged. "Whoever you are, the English would want to find out. They canna afford to have unknown quantities at large, with the clans restless and Prince Charlie waiting to set sail from France. And their methods of finding out are not very gentle. I've reason to know."
"And how do you know I'm not an English spy, then? Dougal thought I was, you said so."
"It's possible, though your spoken English is more than a little odd too. If you were, though, why would you choose to wed me, rather than go back to your own folk? That was another reason for Dougal's makin' ye wed me—to see would ye bolt last night, when it came to the point."
"And I didn't bolt. So what does that prove?"
He laughed and lay back down on the bed, an arm over his eyes to shield them from the lamp.
"Damned if I know, Sassenach. Damned if I know. There isna any reasonable explanation I can think of for you. You might be one of the Wee Folk, for all I know"—he peeked sideways from under his arm—"no, I suppose not. You're too big."
"Aren't you afraid I might kill you in your sleep some night, if you don't know who I am?"
He didn't answer, but took his arm away from his eyes, and his smile widened. His eyes must be from the Fraser side, I thought. Not deep-set like the MacKenzies', they were set at an odd angle, so that the high cheekbones made them look almost slanted.
Without troubling to lift his head, he opened the front of his shirt and spread the cloth aside, laying his chest bare to the waist. He drew the dirk from its sheath and tossed it toward me. It thunked on the boards at my feet.
He put his arm back over his eyes and stretched his head back, showing the place where the dark stubble of his sprouting beard stopped abruptly, just below the jaw.
"Straight up, just under the breastbone," he advised. "Quick and neat, though it takes a bit of strength. The throat-cutting's easier, but it's verra messy."
I bent to pick up the dirk.
"Serve you right if I did," I remarked. "Cocky bastard."
The grin visible beneath the crook of his arm widened still farther.
"Sassenach?"
I stopped, dirk still in my hand.
"What?"
"I'll die a happy man."
* * *
17
We Meet a Beggar
We slept fairly late the next morning, and the sun was high as we left the inn, heading south this time. Most of the horses were gone from the paddock, and none of the men from our party seemed to be about. I wondered aloud where they had gone.
Jamie grinned. "I canna say for sure, but I could guess. The Watch went that way yesterday"—he pointed west—"so I should say Rupert and the others have gone that way." Pointing east.
"Cattle," he explained, seeing that I still didn't understand. "The estate-holders and tacksmen pay the Watch to keep an eye out, and get back their cattle, if they're stolen in a raid. But if the Watch is riding west toward Lag Cruime, any herds to the east are helpless—for a bit, anyway. It's the Grants' lands down that way, and Rupert's one of the best cattle-lifters I've ever seen. Beasts will follow him anywhere, wi' scarcely a bleat amongst them. And since there's no more entertainment to be had here, most likely he's got restless."
Jamie himself seemed rather restless, and set a good pace. There was a deer trail through the heather, and the going was fairly easy, so I kept up with no difficulty. After a bit, we came out onto a stretch of moorland, where we could walk side by side.
"What about Horrocks?" I asked suddenly. Hearing him mention the town of Lag Cruime, I had remembered the English deserter and his possible news. "You were supposed to meet him in Lag Cruime, weren't you?"
He nodded. "Aye. But I canna go there now, wi' both Randall and the Watch headed that way. Too dangerous."