I looked into his eyes, filled with pain and yearning, and he was flesh again, real and immediate, lover, husband, man.
The anguish I felt must have been reflected in my face, for he hesitated, then turned to the east and pointed down the slope. "Do ye see behind the small clump of oak down there? About halfway."
I saw the clump, and saw what he was pointing at, the half-ruined crofter's cottage, abandoned on the haunted hill.
"I shall go down to the house, and I shall stay there 'til the evening. To make sure—to be sure that you're safe." He looked at me, but made no move to touch me. He closed his eyes, as though he could no longer bear to look at me.
"Goodbye," he said, and turned to go.
I watched him, numb, and then remembered. There was something that I had to tell him. I called after him.
"Jamie!"
He stopped and stood motionless for a moment, fighting to control his face. It was white and strained and his lips were bloodless when he turned back to me.
"Aye?"
"There's something… I mean, I have to tell you something before… before I go."
He closed his eyes briefly, and I thought he swayed, but it might have been only the wind tugging at his kilts.
"There's no need," he said. "No. Do ye go, lass. Ye shouldna tarry. Go." He made to turn away, but I clutched him by the sleeve.
"Jamie, listen to me! You must!" He shook his head helplessly, lifting a hand as though to push me away.
"Claire… no. I can't." The wind was bringing the moisture to his eyes.
"It's the Rising," I said urgently, shaking his arm. "Jamie, listen. Prince Charlie—his army. Colum is right! Do you hear me, Jamie? Colum is right, not Dougal."
"Eh? What d'ye mean, lass?" I had his attention now. He rubbed his sleeve across his face and the eyes that looked down at me were sharp and clear. The wind sang in my ears.
"Prince Charlie. There will be a Rising, Dougal's right about that, but it won't succeed. Charlie's army will do well for a bit, but it will end in slaughter. At Culloden, that's where it will end. The—the clans…" In my mind's eye I saw the clan stones, the grey boulders that would lie scattered on the field, each stone bearing the single clan name of the butchered men who lay under it. I took a breath and gripped his hand to steady myself. It was cold as a corpse's. I shuddered and closed my eyes to concentrate on what I was saying.
"The Highlanders—all the clans that follow Charlie—will be wiped out. Hundreds and hundreds of the clansmen will die at Culloden; those that are left will be hunted and killed. The clans will be crushed… and they'll not rise again. Not in your time—not even in mine."
I opened my eyes to find him staring at me, expressionless.
"Jamie, stay out of it!" I begged him. "Keep your people out of it if you can, but for the Lord's sake… Jamie, if you—" I broke off. I had been going to say "Jamie, if you love me." But I couldn't. I was going to lose him forever, and if I could not speak of love to him before, I could not do it now.
"Don't go to France," I said, softly. "Go to America, or to Spain, to Italy. But for the sake of the people who love you, Jamie, don't set foot on Culloden Field."
He went on staring at me. I wondered if he had heard.
"Jamie? Did you hear me? Do you understand?"
After a moment, he nodded numbly.
"Aye," he said quietly, so quietly I could hardly hear him, beneath the whining of the wind. "Aye, I hear." He dropped my hand.
"Go wi' God…mo duinne."
He stepped off the ledge and made his way down the steep incline, bracing his feet against tufts of grass, catching at branches to keep his balance, not looking back. I watched him until he disappeared into the oak clump, walking slowly, like a man wounded, who knows he must keep moving, but feels his life ebbing slowly away through the fingers he has clenched over the wound.
My knees were trembling. Slowly, I lowered myself to the granite shelf and sat cross-legged, watching the swallows about their business. Below, I could just see the roof of the cottage that now held my past. At my back loomed the cleft stone. And my future.
I sat without moving through the afternoon. I tried to force all emotion from my mind and use reason. Jamie certainly had logic on his side when he argued that I should go back: home, safety, Frank; even the small amenities of life that I sorely missed from time to time, like hot baths and indoor plumbing, to say nothing of larger considerations such as proper medical care and convenient travel.