Drums of Autumn - Diana Gabaldon [524]
This small bustle of normality seemed to break the tension a little. Meaning to help things along in that direction, I broke out a bottle of brandy from River Run, pouring a cup for Jamie, and putting a good-sized dollop in Roger’s milk. Jamie gave me a wry look, but sat back on the replaced bench and sipped his drink.
“Verra well, then,” he said, calling the meeting to order. “If you’re handfast, Brianna, then you’re married and this man is your husband.”
Brianna’s flush deepened, but she looked at Roger, not Jamie.
“You said handfasting was good for a year and a day.”
“And you said ye did not want anything temporary.”
She flinched at that, but then set her lips firmly.
“I didn’t. But I didn’t know what was going to happen.” She glanced at me and Jamie, then back at Roger. “They told you—that the baby isn’t yours?”
Roger raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, but he is mine. Mm?” He lifted his bandaged wrist in illustration.
Brianna’s face had lost its frostbitten look; she was pink around the edges.
“You know what I mean.”
He met her eyes straight on.
“I know what you mean,” he said softly. “I am sorry for it.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Roger glanced at Jamie.
“Aye, it was,” he said quietly. “I should have stayed with you; seen you safe.”
Brianna’s brows drew together.
“I told you to go, and I meant it.” She twitched her shoulders impatiently. “But it doesn’t matter now.” She took a firmer hold on the baby and sat up straight.
“I just want to know one thing,” she said, her voice trembling only a little. “I want to know why you came back.”
He set his empty cup down deliberately.
“Did ye not want me to come back?”
“Never mind what I wanted. What I want now is to know. Did you come back because you wanted to—or because you thought you should?”
He looked at her for a long moment, then down at his hands, still clasped around the cup.
“Perhaps both. Perhaps neither. I don’t know,” he said very softly. “That’s God’s truth; I don’t know.”
“Did you go to the stone circle?” she asked. He nodded, not looking at her. He fumbled in his pocket, and laid the big opal stone on the table.
“I went there. That’s why I was long in coming; it took me a long time to find it.”
She was silent for a moment, then nodded.
“You didn’t go back. But you can. Maybe you should.” She looked at him straight on, her gaze the twin of her father’s.
“I don’t want to live with you, if you came back for duty,” she said. She looked at me then, her eyes soft with pain. “I’ve seen a marriage made from obligation—and I’ve seen one made for love. If I hadn’t—” She stopped and swallowed, then went on, looking at Roger. “If I hadn’t seen both, I could have lived with obligation. But I have seen both—and I won’t.”
I felt as though someone had struck me in the breastbone. My marriages, she meant. I looked for Jamie, and found him looking at me with the same expression of shock I knew was on my own face. He coughed to break the silence, and cleared his throat, turning to Roger.
“When were ye handfast?”
“September the second,” Roger answered promptly.
“And now it is mid-June.” Jamie glanced from one to the other, frowning.
“Well, mo nighean, if you are handfast with this man, then you are bound to him; there’s no question.” He turned and gave Roger a dark blue stare. “So you’ll live here, as her husband. And on September the third, she will choose whether she’ll wed ye by priest and book—or whether ye’ll leave and trouble her no more. Ye’ve that long to decide why you’re here—and convince her of it.”
Roger and Brianna both started to speak, to protest, but he stopped them, picking up the dirk he had left on the table. He lowered the blade gently, until it touched the cloth over Roger’s chest.
“Ye’ll live here as her husband, I said. But if ye touch her unwilling, I’ll cut your heart out and feed it to the pig. Ye understand me?”
Roger stared