"What I mean? When you're goin' about swelled out to here like a mad toad?" He mimicked her belly with a contemptuous swipe of the hand.
She took one step back, drew back her hand and slapped him with all the force she could muster. The impact jarred his head back and left a white outline of her fingers printed on his cheek. He slowly raised a hand to the mark, staring at his sister. Her eyes were glittering dangerously and her bosom heaved. The words spilled out in a torrent between clenched white teeth.
"Toad, is it? Stinking coward—ye've no more courage than to leave me here, thinking ye dead or imprisoned, wi' no word from one day to the next, and then ye come strolling in one fine day—with a wife, no less—and sit in my drawing room calling me toad and harlot and—"
"I didna call ye harlot, but I should! How can ye—" Despite the differences in their heights, brother and sister were almost nose to nose, hissing at one another in an effort to keep their carrying voices from ringing through the old manor house. The effort was largely wasted, judging from the glimpses I caught of various interested faces peeping discreetly from kitchen, hall, and window. The laird of Broch Tuarach was having an interesting homecoming, to be sure.
I thought it best to let them have it out without my presence, and so I stepped quietly into the hall, with an awkward nod to the elderly woman, and continued into the yard. There was a small arbor there with a bench, on which I seated myself, looking about with interest.
Besides the arbor, there was a small walled garden, blooming with the last of the summer roses. Beyond it was what Jamie referred to as "the doocot"; or so I assumed, from the assorted pigeons that were fluttering in and out of the pierced-work opening at the top of the building.
I knew there was a barn and a shed for silage; these must be to the other side of the house, with the farm's granary and the henyard, kailyard, and disused chapel. Which still left a small stone building on this side unaccounted for. The light autumn wind was from that direction; I sniffed deeply, and was rewarded with the rich smell of hops and yeast. That was the brewhouse, then, where the beer and ale for the estate were made.
The road past the gate led up and over a small hill. As I looked, a small group of men appeared at the crest, silhouetted in the evening light. They seemed to hover a moment, as though taking leave of each other. This appeared to be the case, for only one came down the hill toward the house, the others striking off through the fields toward a clump of cottages in the distance.
As the single man came down the hill, I could see that he limped badly. When he came through the gate, the reason for it was apparent. The right leg was missing below the knee, and he wore a wooden peg in replacement.
In spite of the limp, he moved youthfully. In fact, as he drew near to the arbor, I could see that he was only in his twenties. He was tall, nearly as tall as Jamie, but much narrower through the shoulder, thin, in fact, nearly to the point of skinniness.
He paused at the entrance to the arbor, leaning heavily on the lattice, and looked in at me with interest. Thick brown hair fell smoothly over a high brow, and deep-set brown eyes held a look of patient good humor.
The voices of Jamie and his sister had risen while I waited outside. The windows were open to the warm weather, and the disputants were quite audible from the arbor, though not all the words were clear.
"Interfering, nosy bitch!" came Jamie's voice, loud on the soft evening air.
"Havena the decency to…" His sister's reply was lost in a sudden breeze.
The newcomer nodded easily toward the house.
"Ah, Jamie's home, then."
I nodded in reply, not sure whether I should introduce myself. It didn't matter, for the young man smiled and inclined his head to me.
"I'm Ian Murray, Jenny's husband. And I imagine ye'll be… ah…"
"The Sassenach wench Jamie's married," I finished for him. "My name is Claire. Did you know about it, then?" I asked, as he laughed. My mind was racing. Jenny's husband?
"Oh, aye. We heard from Joe Orr, who'd got it from a tinker in Ardraigh. Ye canna keep anything secret long in the Highlands. You should know that, even if you've been wed as little as a month. Jenny's been wondering for weeks what you'd be like."
"Whore!" Jamie bellowed from inside the house. Jenny's husband didn't turn a hair, but went on examining me with friendly curiosity.
"You're a bonny lass," he said, looking me over frankly. "Are ye fond of Jamie?"
"Well… yes. Yes, I am," I answered, a bit taken aback. I was becoming accustomed to the directness that characterized most Highlanders, but it still took me unawares from time to time.