Her voice was lower now, and her hands rose again to her breasts, heavy and compelling under the light bodice.
"And in the last month or so, the milk begins to come in. You feel yourself filling, just a wee bit at a time, a little each time the child moves. And then suddenly, everything comes up hard and round." She cupped her stomach again. "There's no pain, then, just a breathless feeling, and then your breasts tingle as though they'll explode if they're not suckled." She closed her eyes and leaned back, stroking her massive belly, over and over, with a rhythm like the invocation of a spell. It came to me, watching her, that if ever there were such a thing as a witch, then Janet Fraser was one.
The smoky air was filled with the trance over the room; the feeling that lies at the root of lust, the terrible yearning need to join, and create. I could have counted every hair on Jamie's body without looking at him, and knew each one stood erect.
Jenny opened her eyes, dark in the shadows, and smiled at her husband, a slow, rich curve of infinite promise.
"And late in bearing, when the child moves a lot, sometimes there's a feeling like when you've your man inside ye, when he comes to ye deep and pours himself into you. Then, then when that throbbing starts deep inside ye along with him, it's like that, but it's much bigger; it ripples all through the walls of your womb and fills all of you. The child's quiet then, and it's as though it's him you've taken inside you instead."
Suddenly she turned to me, and the spell was broken. "That's what they want sometimes, ye know," she said quietly, smiling into my eyes. "They want to come back."
Some time later, Jenny rose, floating toward the door with a glance back that pulled Ian after her like iron to true north. She paused near the door for him, looking back at ha brother, who sat still by the fire hearth.
"You'll see to the fire, Jamie?" She stretched, arching her back, and the curve of her spine echoed the strangely sinuous curve of her belly. Ian's knuckles pressed hard along the length of her back, and ground into the base of her spine, making her groan. And then they were gone.
I stretched too, arms upward, feeling the pleasant pull of tired muscles. Jamie's hands ran down my sides and rested on the swell of my hips. I leaned back into him, drawing his hands forward, imagining them cupping the gentle curve of an unborn child.
As I turned my head to kiss him, I noticed the small form curled in the corner of the settle.
"Look. They've forgotten small Jamie." The little boy customarily slept on a trundle in his parents' room. Tonight he had fallen asleep by the fire while we sat talking over the wine, but no one had remembered to carry him up to his bed. My own Jamie turned me to face him, smoothing my hair away from his nose.
"Jenny never forgets anything," he said. "I expect she and Ian do not care for company just now." His hands went to the fastening at the back of my skirt. "He'll do where he is for the present."
"But what if he wakes up?"
The roving hands came up under the now-loose edge of the bodice. Jamie cocked an eyebrow at the recumbent form his small nephew.
"Aye well. He'll have to learn his job sometime, won't he! Ye don't want him to be as ignorant as his uncle was." He tossed several cushions to the floor before the fire and lowered himself, carrying me with him.
The firelight gleamed on the silvery scars on his back, as though he were in fact the iron man I had once accused him of being, the metal core showing through rents in the fragile skin. I traced the lashmarks one by one, and he shivered under my touch.
"Do you think Jenny's right?" I asked later. "Do men really want to come back inside? Is that why you make love to us?" A breath of laughter stirred the hair by my ear.
"Well, it's no usually the first thing in my mind when I take ye to bed, Sassenach. Far from it. But then…" His hands cupped my breasts softly, and his lips closed on one nipple. "I'd no just say she was completely wrong either. Sometimes… aye, sometimes it would be good, to be inside again, safe and… one. Knowing we cannot, I suppose, is what makes us want to beget. If we cannot go back ourselves, the best we can do is to give that precious gift to our sons, at least for a little while…" He shook himself suddenly, like a dog flinging water from its coat.
"Pay me no mind, Sassenach," he murmured. "I get verra maudlin, drinking elderberry wine."
* * *
31
Quarter Day
There was a light knock on the door, and Jenny stepped in, carrying a folded blue garment over her arm and a hat in one hand. She looked her brother over critically, then nodded.