I came back to the table and sat down, a little abruptly. My knees were a trifle wobbly.
“I saw it,” I said. “But could he…he wouldn’t…”
Jamie raised his brows and pushed a cup of wine across the table to me.
“He could, and he would if he thought it could be managed inconspicuously. For the Lord’s sake, Sassenach, you’ve cost the man close on a year’s income! And he doesna look the sort to take such a loss philosophically. Had ye not told the harbor master it was smallpox, out loud in front of witnesses, a few discreet bribes would have taken care of the matter. As it is, why do ye think Jared brought us up here so fast? For the quality of the drink?”
My lips felt stiff, as though I’d actually drunk a good bit of the vitriol from the pitcher.
“You mean…we’re in danger?”
He sat back, nodding.
“Now you’ve got it,” he said kindly. “I dinna suppose Jared wanted to alarm you. I expect he’s gone to arrange a guard of some kind for us, as well as to see to his crew. He’ll likely be safe enough—everyone knows him, and his crew and loaders are right outside.”
I rubbed my hands over the gooseflesh that rippled up my forearms. There was a cheerful fire in the hearth, and the room was warm and smoky, but I felt cold.
“How do you know so much about what the Comte St. Germain might do?” I didn’t doubt Jamie at all—I remembered all too well the malevolent black glare the Comte had shot at me in the warehouse—but I did wonder how he knew the man.
Jamie took a small sip of the wine, made a face and put it down.
“For the one thing, he’s some reputation for ruthlessness—and other things. I heard a bit about him when I lived in Paris before, though I had the luck never to run afoul of the man then. For another, Jared spent some time yesterday warning me about him; he’s Jared’s chief business rival in Paris.”
I rested my elbows on the battered table, and parked my chin on my folded hands.
“I’ve made rather a mess of things, haven’t I?” I said ruefully. “Got you off on a fine footing in business.”
He smiled, then got up and came behind me, bending to put his arms around me. I was still rather unnerved from his sudden revelations, but felt much better to feel the strength and the bulk of him behind me. He kissed me lightly on top of the head.
“Dinna worry, Sassenach,” he said. “I can take care of myself. And I can take care of you, too—and you’ll let me.” There was a smile in his voice, but a question as well, and I nodded, letting my head fall back against his chest.
“I’ll let you,” I said. “The citizens of Le Havre will just have to take their chances with the pox.”
* * *
It was nearly an hour before Jared came back, ears reddened with cold, but throat unslit, and apparently none the worse for wear. I was happy to see him.
“It’s all right,” he announced, beaming. “Nothing but scurvy and the usual fluxes and chills aboard. No pox.” He looked around the room, rubbing his hands together. “Where’s supper?”
His cheeks were wind-reddened and he looked cheerful and capable. Apparently dealing with business rivals who settled contentions by assassination was all in a day’s work to this merchant. And why not? I thought cynically. He was a bloody Scot, after all.
As if to confirm this view, Jared ordered the meal, acquired an excellent wine to go with it by the simple expedient of sending to his own warehouse for it, and sat down to a genial postprandial discussion with Jamie on ways and means of dealing with French merchants.
“Bandits,” he said. “Every man jack o’ them would stab ye in the back as soon as look at ye. Filthy thieves. Don’t trust them an inch. Half on deposit, half on delivery, and never let a nobleman pay on credit.”
Despite Jared’s assurances that he had left two men below on watch, I was still a bit nervous, and after supper, I placed myself near the window, where I could see the comings and goings along the pier. Not that my watching out was likely to do a lot of good, I thought; every second man on the dock looked like an assassin to me.
The clouds were closing in over the harbor; it was going to snow again tonight. The reefed sails fluttered wildly in the rising wind, rattling against the spars with a noise that nearly overwhelmed the shouts of the loaders. The harbor glowed with a moment of dull green light as the setting sun was driven into the water by the pressing clouds.
As it grew darker, the bustle to and fro died down, the loaders with their handcarts disappearing up the streets into the town, and the sailors disappearing into the lighted doors of establishments like the one in which I sat. Still, the place was far from deserted; in particular, there was a small crowd still gathered near the ill-fated Patagonia. Men in some sort of uniform formed a cordon at the foot of the gangplank; no doubt to prevent anyone going aboard or bringing the cargo off. Jared had explained that the healthy members of the crew would be allowed to come ashore, but not permitted to bring anything off the ship save the clothes that they wore.