* * *
There was a bird calling somewhere close at hand. A few clear notes, succeeded by an answer; a brief twitter, and then silence. The sky outside was still thick black, but the stars were less brilliant than before.
I turned over restlessly; I was naked, covered only by a linen sheet, but even in the small hours of the night, the air was warm and smothering, and the small depression in which I lay was damp.
I had tried to sleep, and could not. Even lovemaking, which normally could relax me into a bonelessly contented stupor, had this time left me only restless and sticky. At once excited and worried by the possibilities of the future—and unable to confide my disturbed feelings—I had felt separate from Jamie; estranged and detached, despite the closeness of our bodies.
I turned again, this time toward Jamie. He lay in his usual position, on his back, the sheet crumpled about his hips, hands gently folded over a flat stomach. His head was turned slightly on the pillow, his face relaxed in sleep. With the wide mouth gentled by slumber and the dark lashes long on his cheeks, in this dim light he looked about fourteen.
I wanted to touch him, though I wasn’t sure whether I meant to caress or to poke him. While he had given me physical release, he had taken my peace of mind, and I was irrationally envious of his effortless repose.
I did neither, though, and merely turned onto my back, where I lay with my eyes shut, grimly counting sheep—who disobliged me by being Scottish sheep, cantering merrily through a kirkyard, leaping the gravestones with gay abandon.
“Is something troubling ye, Sassenach?” said a sleepy voice at my shoulder.
My eyes popped open.
“No,” I said, trying to sound equally drowsy. “I’m fine.”
There was a faint snort and a rustling of the chaff-filled mattress as he turned over.
“You’re a terrible liar, Sassenach. Ye’re thinking so loudly, I can hear ye from here.”
“You can’t hear people think!”
“Aye, I can. You, at least.” He chuckled and reached out a hand, which rested lazily on my thigh. “What is it—has the spiced crab given ye flatulence?”
“It has not!” I tried to twitch my leg away, but his hand clung like a limpet.
“Oh, good. What is it, then—ye’ve finally thought of a witty riposte to Mr. Wylie’s remarks about oysters?”
“No,” I said irritably. “If you must know, I was thinking about the offer Governor Tryon made you. Will you let go of my leg?”
“Ah,” he said, not letting go but sounding less sleepy. “Well, come to that, I was thinking on the matter a bit myself.”
“What do you think about it?” I gave up trying to detach his hand and rolled onto my elbow, facing him. The window was still dark, but the stars had dimmed visibly, faded by the distant approach of day.
“I wonder why he made it, for the one thing.”
“Really? But I thought he told you why.”
He gave a brief grunt.
“Well, he’s no offering me land for the sake of my bonny blue eyes, I’ll tell ye that.” He opened the eyes in question and cocked one brow at me. “Before I make a bargain, Sassenach, I want to know what’s on both sides of it, aye?”
“You don’t think he’s telling the truth? About Crown grants to help settle the land? But he said it’s been going on for thirty years,” I protested. “He couldn’t lie about something like that, surely.”
“No, that’s the truth,” he agreed. “So far as it goes. But bees that hae honey in their mouths hae stings in their tails, aye?” He scratched at his head and smoothed the loose hair out of his face, sighing.
“Ask yourself this, Sassenach,” he said. “Why me?”
“Well—because he wants a gentleman of substance and authority,” I said slowly. “He needs a good leader, which Cousin Edwin has obviously told him you are, and a fairly wealthy man—”
“Which I am not.”
“He doesn’t know that, though,” I protested.
“Doesn’t he?” he said cynically. “Cousin Edwin will ha’ told him as much as he knows—and the Governor kens well I was a Jacobite. True, there are a few who mended their fortunes in the Indies after the Rising, and I might be one o’ those—but he has nae reason to think so.”
“He knows you have some money,” I pointed out.
“Because of Penzler? Aye,” he said thoughtfully. “What else does he know about me?”
“Only what you told him at dinner, so far as I know. And he can’t have heard much about you from anyone else; after all, you’ve been in town less than a—what, you mean that’s it?” My voice rose in incredulity, and he smiled, a little grimly. The light was still far off, but moving closer, and his features were clearcut in the dimness.
“Aye, that’s it. I’ve connections to the Camerons, who are not only wealthy but well respected in the colony. But at the same time, I’m an incomer, wi’ few ties and no known loyalties here.”
“Except, perhaps, to the Governor who’s offering you a large tract of land,” I said slowly.
He didn’t reply at once, but rolled onto his back, still keeping a grip on my leg. His eyes were fastened on the dim whiteness of the plaster ceiling above, with its clouded garlands and ghostly cupids.
“I’ve known a German or two in my time, Sassenach,” he said, musing. His thumb began to move slowly, back and forth upon the tender flesh of my inner thigh. “I havena found them careless wi’ their money, be they Jew or Gentile. And while ye looked bonny as a white rose this evening, I canna think it was entirely your charms that made the gentleman offer me a hundred pounds more than the goldsmith did.”
He glanced at me. “Tryon is a soldier. He’ll ken me for one, too. And there was that wee bit of trouble with the Regulators two year past.”
My mind was so diverted by the possibilities intrinsic in this speech, that I was nearly unconscious of the increasing familiarity of the hand between my thighs.
“Who?”
“Oh, I forgot; ye wouldna have heard that part of the conversation—bein’ otherwise occupied with your host of admirers.”
I let that one pass in favor of finding out about the Regulators. These, it appeared, were a loose association of men, mostly from the rough backcountry of the colony, who had taken offense at what they perceived as capricious and inequitable—and now and then downright illegal—behavior on the part of the Crown’s appointed officials, the sheriffs, justices, tax collectors, and so on.
Feeling that their complaints were not sufficiently addressed by the Governor and Assembly, they had taken matters into their own hands. Sheriff’s deputies had been assaulted, justices of the peace marched from their houses by mobs and forced to resign.
A committee of Regulators had written to the Governor, imploring him to address the iniquities under which they suffered, and Tryon—a man of action and diplomacy—had replied soothingly, going so far as to replace one or two of the most corrupt sheriffs, and issue an official letter to the court officers, regarding seizure of effects.
“Stanhope said something about a Committee of Safety,” I said, interested. “But it sounded quite recent.”
“The trouble is damped down but not settled,” Jamie said, shrugging. “And damp powder may smolder for a long time, Sassenach, but once it catches, it goes off with an almighty bang.”
Would Tryon think it worth the investment, to buy the loyalty and obligation of an experienced soldier, himself in turn commanding the loyalty and service of the men under his sponsorship, all settled in a remote and troublesome area of the colony?
I would myself have called the prospect cheap, at the cost of a hundred pounds and a few measly acres of the King’s land. His Majesty had quite a lot of it, after all.
“So you’re thinking about it.” We were by this time facing each other, and my hand lay over his, not in restraint, but in acknowledgment.
He smiled lazily.
“I havena lived so long by believing everything I’m told, Sassenach. So perhaps I’ll take up the Governor’s kind offer, and perhaps I will not—but I want to know the hell of a lot more about it before I say, one way or the other.”
“Yes, it does seem a little odd—his making you such an offer on short acquaintance.”
“I should be surprised to hear I am the only gentleman he’s so approached,” Jamie said. “And it’s no great risk, now, is it? Ye overheard me telling him I am a Catholic? It was no surprise to him to hear it.”
“Yes. He didn’t seem to think that was a problem, though.”
“Oh, I daresay it wouldna be—unless the Governor chose to make it one.”
“My goodness.” My evaluation of Governor Tryon was rapidly changing, though I wasn’t sure whether for the better or not. “So if things didn’t work out as he liked, all he would have to do is let it be known that you’re a Catholic, and a court would take back the land on those grounds. Whereas if he chooses to keep quiet—”
“And if I choose to do as he likes, aye.”
“He’s much sneakier than I thought,” I said, not without admiration. “Practically Scottish.”
He laughed at that, and brushed the loose hair out of his face.
The long curtains at the window, hitherto hanging limp, suddenly puffed inward, letting in a breath of air that smelt of sandy mud, river water, and the far-off hint of fresh pines. Dawn was coming, borne on the wind.
As though this had been a signal, Jamie’s hand cupped itself, and a slight shiver communicated itself from him to me, as the coolness struck his bare back.
“I didna really do myself credit earlier,” he said softly. “But if you’re sure there’s nothing troubling your mind just now…”
“Nothing,” I said, watching the glow from the window touch the line of his head and neck with gold. His mouth was still wide and gentle, but he didn’t look fourteen any longer.
“Not a thing, just now.”