He shook his head, still laughing.
"I wasn't, but then, I wasna much good for what His Grace had in mind, either. He did not seem to mind at all when I begged leave to remove myself from his presence. But I knew I couldna do it twice, so as soon as the cramps eased up, I got a horse from the stables and lit out. It took a long time to get home, since I had to stop every ten minutes or so, but I made it by supper next day."
Dougal beckoned for a new jug of ale, which he passed down the board hand-to-hand to Jamie.
"Aye, your father sent word he thought perhaps you'd learned enough of castle life for the present," he said, smiling ruefully. "I thought there was a tone to his letter I did not quite understand at the time."
"Weel, I hope ye've laid up a new batch of fig syrup, Mrs. Fitz," Rupert interrupted, poking her familiarly in the ribs. "His Grace is like to be here in a day or two. Or are ye counting on your new wife to guard ye this time, Jamie?" He leered at me. "From all accounts, ye may need to guard her. I hear the Duke's servant does not share His Grace's preferences, though he's every bit as active."
Jamie pushed back the bench and rose from the table, handing me out. He put an arm around my shoulders and smiled back at Rupert.
"Well, then, I suppose the two of us will just have to fight it out back to back."
Rupert's eyes flew open in horrified dismay.
"Back to back!?" he exclaimed. "I knew we'd forgot to tell ye something before your wedding, lad! No wonder you've not got her with child yet!"
Jamie's hand tightened on my shoulder, turning me toward the archway, and we made our escape, pelted by a hail of laughter and bawdy advice.
In the dark hall outside, Jamie leaned against the stones, doubled over. Unable to stand, I sank to the ground at his feet and giggled helplessly.
"You didn't tell him, did you?" Jamie gasped at last.
I shook my head. "No, of course not." Still wheezing, I groped for his hand, and he hauled me upright. I collapsed against his chest.
"Let me see if I've got it right, now." He cupped my face between his hands and pressed his forehead to mine, face so close that his eyes blurred into one large blue orb and his breath was warm on my chin.
"Face to face. Is that it?" The fizz of laughter was dying down in my blood, replaced by something else just as potent. I touched my tongue against his lips, while my hands busied themselves lower down.
"Faces are not the essential parts. But you're learning."
Next day, I was in my surgery, listening patiently to an elderly lady from the village, some relation to the soup cook, who was rather garrulously detailing her daughter-in-law's bout with the morbid sore throat that theoretically had something to do with her current complaint of quinsy, though I couldn't at the moment see the connection. A shadow fell across the doorway, interrupting the old lady's catalog of symptoms.
I looked up, startled, to see Jamie rush in, followed by Old Alec, both men looking worried and excited. Jamie unceremoniously removed the makeshift tongue depressor I was holding and pulled me to my feet, clasping both hands between his own.
"What—" I began, but was interrupted by Alec, peering over Jamie's shoulder at my hands, which Jamie was displaying to him.
"Aye, that's verra weel, but the arms, man? Has she the arm for it?"
"Look." Jamie grasped one of my hands and stretched my arm out straight, measuring it along one of his.
"Weel," said Alec, examining it doubtfully, "could do. Aye, it could."
"Would you care to tell me what you think you're doing?" I inquired, but before I could finish, I was being hustled down the stairs between the two men, leaving my aged patient to gape after us in perplexity.
A few moment later, I was dubiously eyeing the large, shiny, brown hindquarters of a horse, located some six inches from my face. The problem had been made clear on the way to the stables, Jamie explaining and Old Alec chiming in with remarks, imprecations, and interjections.
Losgann, customarily a good foaler, and a prize member of Colum's stable, was having trouble. This much I could see for myself; the mare lay on her side and periodically the shining flanks heaved and the enormous body seemed to shiver. Down on hands and knees at the rear of the horse, I could see the lips of the vagina gape slightly with each contraction, but nothing further happened; no sight of tiny hoof or delicate wet nose appeared at the opening. The foal, a late one, was evidently presenting side-on or backward. Alec thought side-on, Jamie thought backward, and they paused to argue about it for a moment, until I impatiently called the meeting to order to ask what they expected me to do about it, in either case.