"You said that if you died before wedding, the land would go back to the Frasers," I said. "But you're married now. So who—"
"That's right," he said, nodding at me with a lopsided grin. The morning sun lit his hair with flames of gold and copper. "If I'm killed now, Sassenach, Lallybroch is yours."
It was a beautiful sunny morning, once the mist had risen. Birds were busy in the heather, and the road was wide here, for a change, and softly dusty under the horses' hooves.
Jamie rode up close beside me as we crested a small hill. He nodded to the right.
"See that wee glade down below there?"
"Yes." It was a small green patchwork of pines, oaks, and aspens, set back some distance from the road.
"There's a spring with a pool there, under the trees, and smooth grass. A very bonny place."
I looked over at him quizzically.
A little early for lunch, isn't it?
"That's not precisely what I had in mind." Jamie, I had found out by accident a few days previously, had never mastered the art of winking one eye. Instead, he blinked solemnly, like a large red owl.
"And just what did you have in mind?" I inquired. My suspicious look met an innocent, childlike gaze of blue.
"I was just wondering what you'd look like … on the grass… under the trees… by the water… with your skirts up around your ears."
"Er—" I said.
"I'll tell Dougal we're going to fetch water." He spurred up ahead, returning in a moment with the water bottles from the other horses. I heard Rupert shout something after us in Gaelic as we rode down the hill, but couldn't make out the words.
I reached the glade first. Sliding down, I relaxed on the grass and shut my eyes against the glare of the sun. Jamie reined up beside me a moment later, and swung down from the saddle. He slapped the horse and sent it away, reins dangling, to graze with mine, before dropping to his knees on the grass. I reached up and pulled him down to me.
It was a warm day, redolent with grass and flower scents. Jamie himself smelled like a fresh-plucked grass blade, sharp and sweet.
"We'll have to be quick," I said. "They'll be wondering why it's taking so long to get water."
"They won't wonder," he said, undoing my laces with a practiced ease. "They know."
"What do you mean?"
"Did ye no hear what Rupert said as we left?"
"I heard him, but I couldn't tell what he said." My Gaelic was improving to the point that I could understand the more common words, but conversation was still far beyond me.
"Good. It wasna fit for your ears." Having freed my breasts, he buried his face in them, sucking and biting gently until I could stand it no more and slid down beneath him, tucking my skirts up out of the way. Feeling absurdly self-conscious after that fierce and primitive encounter on the rock, I had been shy about letting him make love to me near the camp, and the woods were too thick to safely move very far from the campsite. Both of us were feeling the mild and pleasant strain of abstinence, and now, safely removed from curious eyes and ears, we came together with an impact that made my lips and fingers tingle with a rush of blood.
We were both nearing the end when Jamie froze abruptly. Opening my eyes, I saw his face dark against the sun, wearing a perfectly indescribable expression. There was something black pressed against his head. My eyes at last adjusting to the glare, I saw it was a musket barrel.
"Get up, you rutting bastard." The barrel moved sharply, jarring against Jamie's temple. Very slowly, he rose to his feet. A drop of blood began to well from the graze, dark against his white face.
There were two of them; Redcoat deserters from the look of their ragtag remnants of uniform. Both were armed with muskets and pistols, and looked very much amused by what chance had delivered into their hands. Jamie stood with his hands raised, the barrel of a musket pressed against his chest, face carefully expressionless.
"You might ha' let 'im finish, 'Arry," said one of the men. He grinned broadly, with a fine display of rotting teeth. "Stoppin' in the middle like that's bad for a man's 'ealth."
His fellow prodded Jamie in the chest with the musket.
" 'Is 'ealth's no concern o' mine. An' it won't be any concern to 'im for much longer. I've a mind to take a piece o' that," he nodded briefly in my direction, "an' I don't care to come second to any man, let alone a Scottish whoreson like this."
Rotten-teeth laughed. "I bain't so bloody particular. Kill 'im, then, and get on wi' it."