Outlander - Diana Gabaldon [270]
Her attention was distracted just then by the appearance of a small child in the doorway, and she pulled away from her brother without noticing his discomposure. She took the little boy’s hand and led him into the room, murmuring encouragement. He hung back a little, thumb in mouth for comfort, peering up at the strangers from behind his mother’s skirts.
For his mother she plainly was. He had her mop of thick, curly black hair and the square set of her shoulders, though the face was not hers.
“This is wee Jamie,” she said, looking proudly down at the lad. “And this is your uncle Jamie, mo cridh, the one you’re named for.”
“For me? You named him for me?” Jamie looked like a fighter who has just been punched very hard in the stomach. He backed away from mother and child until he blundered into a chair, and sank into it as though the strength had gone from his legs. He hid his face in his hands.
His sister by this time was aware that something was amiss. She touched him tentatively on the shoulder.
“Jamie? What is it, my dearie? Are ye ill?”
He looked up at her then, and I could see his eyes were full of tears.
“Did ye have to do that, Jenny? Do ye think that I’ve not suffered enough for what happened—for what I let happen—that ye must name Randall’s bastard for me, to be a reproach to me so long as I live?”
Jenny’s face, normally pale, lost all vestiges of color.
“Randall’s bastard?” she said blankly. “John Randall, ye mean? The Redcoat captain?”
“Aye, the Redcoat captain. Who else would I mean, for God’s sake! You’ll remember him, I suppose?” Jamie was recovering enough of his customary poise for sarcasm.
Jenny eyed her brother closely, one arched brow lifted in suspicion.
“Have ye lost your senses, man?” she inquired. “Or have ye taken a drop too much along the way?”
“I should never have come back,” he muttered. He rose then, stumbling slightly and tried to pass without touching her. She stood her ground, however, and gripped him by the arm.
“Correct me, brother, if I’m wrong,” Jenny said slowly, “but I’ve the strong impression you’re saying I’ve played the whore to Captain Randall, and what I’m askin’ myself is what maggots you’ve got in your brain to make ye say so?”
“Maggots, is it?” Jamie turned to her, mouth twisted with bitterness. “I wish it were so; I’d rather I was dead and in my grave than to see my sister brought to such a pass.” He seized her by the shoulders, and shook her slightly, crying out, “Why, Jenny, why? To have ye ruin yourself for me was shame enough to kill me. But this…” He dropped his hands then, with a gesture of despair that took in the protruding belly, swelling accusingly under the light smocking.
He turned abruptly toward the door, and an elderly woman, who had been listening avidly with the child clinging to her skirts, drew back in alarm.
“I should not have come. I’ll go.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Jamie Fraser,” his sister said sharply. “Not before you’ve listened to me. Sit yourself down, then, and I’ll tell ye about Captain Randall, since ye want to know.”
“I don’t want to know! I don’t want to hear it!” As she advanced toward him, he turned sharply away to the window that looked out over the yard. She followed him, saying “Jamie…,” but he repelled her with a violent gesture.
“No! Don’t talk to me! I’ve said I canna bear to hear it!”
“Och, is that a fact?” She eyed her brother, standing at the window with his legs braced wide apart, hands on the sill and back stubbornly set against her. She bit her lip and a calculating look came over her face. Quick as lightning, she stooped and her hand shot under his kilt like a striking snake.
Jamie let out a roar of sheer outrage and stood bolt upright with shock. He tried to turn, then froze as she apparently tightened her grip.
“There’s men as are sensible,” she said to me, with a wicked smile, “and beasts as are biddable. Others ye’ll do nothing with, unless ye have ’em by the ballocks. Now, ye can listen to me in a civil way,” she said to her brother,