He smiled then, with great tenderness, and smoothed his palm across my cheek, warm on my spring-chilled skin.
“Aye? And what have I done to you, Sassenach? Taken ye from your own place, led ye into poverty and outlawry, taken ye through battlefields and risked your life. D’ye hold it against me?”
“You know I don’t.”
He smiled. “Aye, well; neither do I, my Sassenach.” The smile faded from his face as he glanced up at the crest of the hill above us. The stones were invisible, but I could feel the menace of them, close at hand.
“I won’t go, Jamie,” I repeated stubbornly. “I’m staying with you.”
“No.” He shook his head. He spoke gently, but his voice was firm, with no possibility of denial. “I must go back, Claire.”
“Jamie, you can’t!” I clutched his arm urgently. “Jamie, they will have found Dougal by now! Willie Coulter will have told someone.”
“Aye, he will.” He put a hand over my arm and patted it. He had reached his decision on the ride to the hill; I could see it in his shadowed face, resignation and determination mingled. There was grief there, and sadness, too, but those had been put aside; he had no time for mourning now.
“We could try to get away to France,” I said. “Jamie, we must!” But even as I spoke, I knew I could not turn him from the course he had decided on.
“No,” he said again, softly. He turned and lifted a hand, gesturing toward the darkening valley below, the shaded hills beyond. “The country is roused, Sassenach. The ports are closed; O’Brien has been trying for the last three months to bring a ship to rescue the Prince, to take him to safety in France—Dougal told me…before.” A tremor passed over his face, and a sudden spasm of grief knit his brows. He pushed it aside, though, and went on, explaining in a steady voice.
“It’s only the English who are hunting Charles Stuart. It will be the English, and the clans as well, who hunt me. I am a traitor twice over, a rebel and a murderer. Claire…” He paused, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, then said gently, “Claire, I am a dead man.”
The tears were freezing on my cheeks, leaving icy trails that burned my skin.
“No,” I said again, but to no effect.
“I’m no precisely inconspicuous, ye ken,” he said, trying to make a joke of it as he ran a hand through the rusty locks of his hair. “Red Jamie wouldna get far, I think. But you…” He touched my mouth, tracing the line of my lips. “I can save you, Claire, and I will. That is the most important thing. But then I shall go back—for my men.”
“The men from Lallybroch? But how?”
Jamie frowned, absently fingering the hilt of his sword as he thought.
“I think I can get them away. It will be confused on the moor, wi’ men and horses moving to and fro, and orders shouted and contradicted; battles are verra messy affairs. And even if it’s known by then what I—what I have done,” he continued, with a momentary catch in his voice, “there are none who would stop me then, wi’ the English in sight and the battle about to begin. Aye, I can do it,” he said. His voice had steadied, and his fists clenched at his sides with determination.
“They will follow me without question—God help them, that’s what’s brought them here! Murtagh will have gathered them for me; I shall take them and lead them from the field. If anyone tries to stop me, I shall say that I claim the right to lead my own men in battle; not even Young Simon will deny me that.”
He drew a deep breath, brows knit as he visualized the scene on the battlefield come morning.
“I shall bring them safely away. The field is broad enough, and there are enough men that no one will realize that we havena but moved to a new position. I shall bring them off the moor, and see them set on the road toward Lallybroch.”
He fell silent, as though this were as far as he had thought in his plans.
“And then?” I asked, not wanting to know the answer, but unable to stop myself.
“And then I shall turn back to Culloden,” he said, letting out his breath. He gave me an unsteady smile. “I’m no afraid to die, Sassenach.” His mouth quirked wryly. “Well…not a lot, anyway. But some of the ways of accomplishing the fact…” A brief, involuntary shudder ran through him, but he tried to keep smiling.
“I doubt I should be thought worthy of the services of a true professional, but I expect in such a case, both Monsieur Forez and myself might find it…awkward. I mean, havin’ my heart cut out by someone I’ve shared wine with…”