A Breath of Snow and Ashes - Diana Gabaldon [594]
“Do we care if anyone notices, a charaid?” Murray inquired, glancing up at MacKenzie.
“Not really.” Nonetheless, MacKenzie resumed his seat and resumed his stare. “We can wait a bit, though.” He glanced at the case clock by the mantel, its pendulum moving with a serene tick-tock. “It won’t be long.”
Belatedly, it occurred to Forbes to wonder where Jamie Fraser was.
ELSPETH FORBES was rocking gently on the veranda of her sister’s house, enjoying the coolness of the morning air, when a visitor was announced.
“Why, Mr. Fraser!” she exclaimed, sitting up. “What brings ye to Edenton? Is it Neil ye’re in search of? He’s gone to—”
“Ah, no, Mistress Forbes.” He swept her a low bow, the morning sun gleaming off his hair as though it were bronze metal. “It is yourself I’ve come for.”
“Oh? Oh!” She sat up in her chair, hastily brushing away crumbs of toast on her sleeve, and hoping her cap was on straight. “Why, sir, what could ye possibly want with an old woman?”
He smiled—such a nice-looking lad he was, so fine in his gray coatie, and that look of mischief in his eyes—and leaned close to whisper in her ear.
“I’ve come to steal ye away, Mistress.”
“Och, awa’ with ye!” She flapped a hand at him, laughing, and he took it, kissing her knuckles.
“I shallna take ‘no’ for answer, now,” he assured her, and gestured toward the edge of the porch, where he had left a large, promising-looking basket, covered with a checkered cloth. “I’ve a mind to eat my luncheon in the country, under a tree. I’ve the very tree in mind—a braw, fine tree—but it’s a poor meal, taken without company.”
“Surely to goodness ye could find better company than mine, lad,” she said, thoroughly charmed. “And where’s your dear wife, then?”
“Ah, she’s left me,” he said, affecting sorrow. “Here’s me, with a wonderful picnic planned, and her off to a birthing. So I said to myself, well, Jamie, it’s shame to waste such a feast—who might be at liberty to share it with ye? And what should I see next but your most elegant self, taking your ease. An answer to prayer, it was; surely ye wouldna go against heavenly guidance, Mistress Forbes?”
“Hmph,” she said, trying not to laugh at him. “Och, well. If it’s a matter of wasting . . .”
Before she could say more, he had stooped down and plucked her from her chair, lifting her in his arms. She whooped with surprise.
“If it’s a proper abduction, I must carry ye away, aye?” he said, smiling down at her.
To her mortification, the sound she made could be called nothing but a giggle. He seemed not to mind, though, and bending to sweep up the basket in one strong hand, carried her like a bit of thistledown out to his carriage.
“YOU CANNOT KEEP ME prisoner here! Let me pass, or I will shout for help!”
They had, in fact, held him for more than an hour, blocking all attempts on his part to rise and leave. He was right, though, Roger thought; traffic was beginning to pick up in the street outside, and he could hear—as could Forbes—the noises of a maid setting out the tables for dinner in the next room.
He glanced at Ian. They had discussed it; if word hadn’t come within an hour, they would have to try to remove Forbes from the inn, take him to a more private place. That could be a dicey business; the lawyer was intimidated, but stubborn as a ball bearing. And he would call for help.
Ian pursed his lips thoughtfully, and drew the knife he had been playing with down the side of his breeches, polishing the blade.
“Mr. MacKenzie?” A small boy had popped up beside him like a mushroom, dirt-smeared and round-faced.
“I am,” he said, a wave of thankfulness washing through him. “Have ye got something for me?”
“Aye, sir.” The urchin handed over a small twist of paper, accepted a coin in return, and was gone, in spite of Forbes’s call of “Wait, boy!”
The lawyer had half-risen from his seat in agitation. Roger made a sharp