Outlander - Diana Gabaldon [195]
“Jamie—” I said again, and stopped, helpless. He rode silently for a bit, then straightened up and squared his shoulders once more.
“I’ve not told anyone about it,” he said abruptly. “But I thought that now ye should know—about Randall, I mean. You’ve a right to know what it is that lies between him and me.”
What it is that lies between him and me. The life of a good man, the honor of a girl, and an indecent lust that found its vent in blood and fear. And, I supposed, with a lurch of the stomach, that there was now one more item weighting the scales. Me. For the first time, I began to realize what Jamie had felt, crouching in the window of Randall’s room, with an empty gun in his hand. And I began to forgive him for what he had done to me.
As though reading my mind, he said, not looking at me, “Do you know…I mean, can ye understand, maybe, why I thought it needful to beat you?”
I waited a moment before answering. I understood, all right, but that was not quite all there was to it.
“I understand,” I said. “And so far as that goes, I forgive you. What I can’t forgive,” I said, my voice rising slightly in spite of myself, “is that you enjoyed it!”
He bent forward in the saddle, clasping the pommel, and laughed for a long time. He reveled in the release of tension before finally tossing his head back and turning to me. The sky was noticeably lighter now, and I could see his face, lined with exhaustion, strain, and mirth. The scratches down his cheek were black in the dim light.
“Enjoyed it! Sassenach,” he said, gasping, “you don’t know just how much I enjoyed it. You were so…God, you looked lovely. I was so angry, and you fought me so fierce. I hated to hurt you, but I wanted to do it at the same time…Jesus,” he said, breaking off and wiping his nose, “yes. Yes, I did enjoy it.
“Though come to that,” he said, “you might give me some credit for exercising restraint.”
I was getting rather angry again. I could feel my cheeks flushing hotly against the cool dawn air.
“Restraint, was it? I was under the impression that what you were exercising was your good left arm. You almost crippled me, you arrogant Scottish bastard!”
“Did I want to cripple ye, Sassenach, you’d know it,” he answered dryly. “I meant afterward. I slept on the floor, if ye recall.”
I eyed him narrowly, breathing through my nose. “Oh, so that was restraint, was it?”
“Well, I didna think it right to roger you in that state, however fierce I wanted to. And I did want to,” he added, laughing again. “Terrible strain on my natural instincts.”
“Roger me?” I said, diverted by the expression.
“I would hardly call it ‘love-making’ under the circumstances, would you?”
“Whatever you might call it,” I said evenly, “it’s a good thing you didn’t try it, or you’d now be missing a few valued bits of your anatomy.”
“That thought occurred to me.”
“And if you think you deserve applause for nobly refraining from committing rape on top of assault—” I choked on my choler.
We rode a half-mile or so in silence. Then he heaved a sigh. “I can see I should not have started this conversation. What I was tryin’ to do was to work up to asking ye would you allow me to share your bed again, once we get to Bargrennan.” He paused shyly. “It’s a bit cold on the floor.”
I rode for a good five minutes before answering. When I had decided what to say, I reined in, turning across the road, so as to force Jamie to stop as well. Bargrennan was in sight, rooftops just visible in the dawning light.
I urged my horse parallel with the other, so that I was no more than a foot away from Jamie. I looked him in the eye for a minute before speaking.
“Will you do me the honor of sharing my bed, O lord and master?” I asked politely.
Obviously suspecting something, he considered a moment, then nodded, just as formally. “I will. Thank you.” He was raising the reins to go when I stopped him.
“There’s just one more thing, master,” I said, still polite.
“Aye?”
I whipped my hand from the concealed pocket