Dragonfly in Amber - Diana Gabaldon [248]
“I know,” I said. “Jamie, I know. Fergus told me. I know why you went.”
He drew a deep, shuddering breath.
“Aye, well…” he said, and stopped.
I let my hand fall to his thigh; chilled and damp from the rain, his riding breeches were rough under my palm.
“Did they tell you—when they let you go—why you were released?” I tried to keep my own breathing steady, but failed.
His thigh tensed under my hand, but his voice was under better control now.
“No,” he said. “Only that it was…His Majesty’s pleasure.” The word “pleasure” was ever so faintly underlined, spoken with a delicate ferocity that made it abundantly clear that he did indeed know the means of his release, whether the warders had told him or not.
I bit my lower lip hard, trying to make up my mind what to tell him now.
“It was Mother Hildegarde,” he went on, voice steady. “I went at once to L’Hôpital des Anges, in search of you. And found Mother Hildegarde, and the wee note ye’d left for me. She…told me.”
“Yes,” I said, swallowing. “I went to see the King…”
“I know!” His hand tightened on mine, and from the sound of his breathing, I could tell that his teeth were clenched together.
“But Jamie…when I went…”
“Christ!” he said, and sat up suddenly, turning to face me. “Do ye not know what I…Claire.” He closed his eyes briefly, and took a deep breath. “I rode all the way to Orvieto, seeing it; seeing his hands on the white of your skin, his lips on your neck, his—his cock—I saw it at the lever—I saw the damn filthy, stubby thing sliding up…God, Claire! I sat in prison thinking ye dead, and then I rode to Spain, wishing to Christ ye were!”
The knuckles of the hand holding mine were white, and I could feel the small bones of my fingers crackle in his grip.
I jerked my hand free.
“Jamie, listen to me!”
“No!” he said. “No, I dinna want to hear…”
“Listen, damn you!”
There was enough force in my voice to shut him up for an instant, and while he was mute, I began rapidly to tell him the story of the King’s chamber; the hooded men, and the shadowed room, the sorcerers’ duel, and the death of the Comte St. Germain.
As I talked, the high color faded from his wind-brisked cheeks, and his expression softened from anguish and fury to bewilderment, and gradually, to astonished belief.
“Jesus,” he breathed at last. “Oh, holy God.”
“Didn’t know what you were starting with that silly story, did you?” I felt exhausted, but managed a smile. “So…so the Comte…it’s all right, Jamie. He’s…gone.”
He didn’t say anything in reply, but drew me gently to him, so my forehead rested on his shoulder, and my tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt. After a minute, though, I sat up, and stared at him, wiping my nose.
“I just thought, Jamie! The port—Charles Stuart’s investment! If the Comte is dead…”
He shook his head, smiling faintly.
“No, mo duinne. It’s safe.”
I felt a flood of relief.
“Oh, thank God. You managed, then? Did the medicines work on Murtagh?”
“Well, no,” he said, the smile broadening, “but they did on me.”
Relieved at once of fear and anger, I felt light-headed, and half-giddy. The smell of the rain-swept grapes was strong and sweet, and it was a blessed relief to lean against him, feeling his warmth as comfort, not as threat, as I listened to the story of the port-wine piracy.
“There are men that are born to the sea, Sassenach,” he began, “but I’m afraid I’m no one of them.”
“I know,” I said. “Were you sick?”
“I have seldom been sicker,” he assured me wryly.
The seas off Orvieto had been rough, and within an hour it became clear that Jamie was not going to be able to carry out his original part in the plan.
“I couldna do anything but lie in my hammock and groan, in any case,” he said, shrugging, “so it seemed I might as well have pox, too.”
He and Murtagh had hastily changed roles, and twenty-four hours off the coast of Spain, the master of the Scalamandre had discovered to his horror that plague had broken out below.
Jamie scratched his neck reflectively, as though still feeling the effects of the nettle juice.
“They thought of throwing me overboard