Dragonfly in Amber - Diana Gabaldon [194]
“His Highness tells me he’s been talking to the Gobelins,” Jamie said. “St. Germain introduced him; otherwise they’d not give him the time o’ day. And old Gobelin thinks him a wastrel and a fool, and so does one of the Gobelin sons. The other, though—he says that he’ll wait and see; if Charles succeeds with this venture, then perhaps he can put other opportunities in his way.”
“Not at all good,” I observed.
Jamie shook his head. “No. Money breeds money, ye ken. Let him succeed at one or two large ventures, and the bankers will begin to listen to him. The man’s no great thinker,” he said, with a wry twist of his mouth, “but he’s verra charming in person; he can persuade people into things against their better judgment. Even so, he’ll make no headway without a small bit of capital to his name—but he’ll have that, if this investment succeeds.”
“Mm.” I shifted my position once more, wriggling my toes in their hot leather prison. The shoes had fit when made for me, but my feet were beginning to swell a bit, and my silk stockings were damp with sweat. “Is there anything we can do about it?”
Jamie shrugged, with a lopsided smile. “Pray for bad weather off Portugal, I suppose. Beyond the ship sinking, I dinna see much way for the venture to fail, truth be told. St. Germain has contracts already for the sale of the entire cargo. Both he and Charles Stuart stand to triple their money.”
I shivered briefly at the mention of the Comte. I couldn’t help recalling Dougal’s speculations. I had not told Jamie about Dougal’s visit, nor about his speculations as to the Comte’s nocturnal activities. I didn’t like keeping secrets from him, but Dougal had demanded my silence as his price for helping me in the matter of Jonathan Randall, and I had had little choice but to agree.
Jamie smiled suddenly at me, and stretched out a hand.
“I’ll think of something, Sassenach. For now, give me your feet. Jenny said it helped to have me rub her feet when she was wi’ child.”
I didn’t argue, but slipped my feet out of the hot shoes and swung them up onto his lap with a sigh of relief as the air from the window cooled the damp silk over my toes.
His hands were big, and his fingers at once strong and gentle. He rubbed his knuckles down the arch of my foot and I leaned back with a soft moan. We rode silently for several minutes, while I relaxed into a state of mindless bliss.
Head bent over my green silk toes, Jamie remarked casually, “It wasna really a debt, ye ken.”
“What wasn’t?” Fogged as I was by warm sun and foot massage, I hadn’t any idea what he meant.
Not stopping his rubbing, he looked up at me. His expression was serious, though the hint of a smile lit his eyes.
“You said that I owed ye a life, Sassenach, because you’d saved mine for me.” He took hold of one big toe and wiggled it. “But I’ve been reckoning, and I’m none so sure that’s true. Seems to me that it’s nearly even, taken all in all.”
“What you do mean, even?” I tried to pull my foot loose, but he held tight.
“If you’ve saved my life—and ye have—well, I’ve saved yours as well, and at least as often. I saved ye from Jack Randall at Fort William, you’ll recall—and I took ye from the mob at Cranesmuir, no?”
“Yes,” I said cautiously. I had no idea where he was going, but he wasn’t just making idle conversation. “I’m grateful for it, of course.”
He made a small Scottish noise of dismissal, deep in his throat. “It isna a matter for gratitude, Sassenach, on your part or mine—my point is only that it’s no a matter of obligation, either.” The smile had vanished from his eyes, and he was entirely serious.
“I didna give ye Randall’s life as an exchange for my own—it wouldna be a fair trade, for one thing. Close your mouth, Sassenach,” he added practically, “flies will get in.” There were in fact a number of the insects present; three were resting on the Fergus’s shirtfront, undisturbed by its constant rise and fall.
“Why did you agree, then?” I stopped struggling, and he wrapped both hands around