Dragonfly In Amber

“Don’t look back,” he said quietly, taking me by the arm as we turned toward the road.

I didn’t.

Jamie, Fergus, and Murtagh went with Ian and the dogs in search of the sheep, leaving me to take the string of horses down to the house alone. I was far from being an accomplished horse-handler, but thought I could manage half a mile, so long as nothing popped out at me unexpectedly.

This was very different from our first homecoming to Lallybroch; then, we had been in flight, both of us. Me from the future, Jamie from his past. Our residence then had been happy, but tenuous and insecure; always there was the chance of discovery, of Jamie’s arrest. Now, thanks to the Duke of Sandringham’s intervention, Jamie had come to take possession of his birthright, and I, my lawful place beside him as his wife.

Then, we had arrived disheveled, unexpected, a violent disruption in the household. This time, we had come a

I topped the last hill without incident, and the manor house and its outbuildings lay below me, slate roofs darkening as the first banks of rain clouds rolled in. Suddenly, my mare started, and so did I, struggling to keep a hold on the reins as she curvetted and plunged in alarm.

Not that I could blame her; from around the corner of the house had emerged two huge, puffy objects, rolling along the ground like overweight clouds.

“Stop that!” I shouted “Whoa!” All the horses were now swerving and pulling, and I was inches away from a stampede. Fine homecoming, I thought, if I let all Jamie’s new breeding stock break their collective legs.

One of the clouds rose slightly, then sank flat to the ground, and Je

Without a moment’s hesitation, she leaped for the bridle of the nearest animal, and jerked down, hard.

“Whoa!” she said. The horse, obviously recognizing the voice of authority, did whoa. With a little effort, the other horses were calmed, and by the time I could slide down from my saddle, we had been joined by another woman and a boy of nine or ten, who lent an experienced hand with the remaining beasts.

I recognized young Rabbie MacNab, and deduced that the woman must be his mother, Mary. The bustle and shuffle of horses, bundles and mattresses precluded much conversation, but I had time for a quick hug of greeting with Je

We clung together for a moment, hugging tight, remembering our last embrace, when we had parted on the edge of a night-dark wood – me to go in search of Jamie, she to return to a newborn daughter.

“How’s little Maggie?” I asked, breaking away at last.

Je

“Yes, Jamie, Murtagh, and Fergus went with him to find the sheep.”

“Better them than us,” she said, with a quick gesture toward the sky. “It’s coming on to rain any minute. Let Rabbie stable the horses and you come lend a hand wi’ the mattresses, or we’ll all sleep wet tonight.”

A frenzy of activity ensued, but when the rain came, Je

“You mentioned Fergus,” Je

“Oh, Fergus? He’s – well, he’s-” I hesitated, not sure quite how to describe Fergus. A pickpocket’s prospects for employment on a farm seemed limited. “He’s Jamie’s,” I said at last.

“Oh, aye? Well, I suppose he can sleep in the stable,” said Je

In fact, darkness had fallen, and Mary MacNab had laid the table before the men returned. I watched her at her work; a small, fine-boned woman with dark-brown hair and a faintly worried look that faded into a smile when Rabbie returned from the stables and went to the kitchen, hungrily asking when di

“When the men are back, mo luaidh,” she said, “Ye know that. Go and wash, so you’ll be ready.”

When the men finally did appear, they seemed a good deal more in need of a wash than did Rabbie. Rain-soaked, draggled, and muddy to the knees, they trailed slowly into the parlor. Ian unwound the wet plaid from his shoulders and hung it over the firescreen, where it dripped and steamed in the heat of the fire. Fergus, worn out by his abrupt introduction to farm life, simply sat down where he was and stared numbly at the floor between his legs.

Je

“Outside, and off wi’ your boots,” she said firmly. “And if ye’ve been in the high field, remember to piss on the doorposts on your way back in. That’s how ye keep a ghost from comin’ in the house,” she explained to me in a lowered tone, with a quick look at the door through which Mary MacNab had disappeared to fetch the di

Jamie, slumped into a chair, opened one eye and gave his sister a dark-blue look.

“I land in Scotland near dead wi’ the crossing, ride for four days over the hills to get here, and when I arrive, I ca

“Jamie, my dearie,” his sister said sweetly. “D’ye want your di

He remained motionless for a long moment, eyes closed. Then, with a hissing sigh of resignation, he got laboriously to his feet. With a moody twitch of his shoulder, he summoned Ian and the two of them turned, following Murtagh, who was already out the door. As he passed, Jamie reached down a long arm, hauled Fergus to his feet, and dragged the boy sleepily along.

“Welcome home,” Jamie said morosely, and with a last wistful glance at fire and whisky, trudged out into the night once more.