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I wondered idly what would happen if it worked the other way. What if someone disappeared from this time, and popped up in my own?
“Well, no,” he said slowly, “so long as it doesna bother you that I am.”
James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser.”
But what I would ask of ye—when you do tell me something, let it be the truth. And I’ll promise ye the same. We have nothing now between us, save—respect, perhaps. And I think that respect has maybe room for secrets, but not for lies. Do ye agree?”
“You have my name and my family, my clan, and if necessary, the protection of my body as well.
“It is awfully late,” I said, getting up too. “Maybe we should go to bed.” “All right,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “To bed? Or to sleep?” He cocked a quizzical eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitched.
In truth, I had been feeling so comfortable with him that I had almost forgotten why we were there. At his words, I suddenly felt a hollow panic. “Well—” I said, faintly. “Either way, you’re no intending to sleep in your gown, are ye?” he asked, in his usual practical manner.
“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” I said, a little breathless. He grinned and pulled me close again. “I said I was a virgin, not a monk,” he said, kissing me again. “If I find I need guidance, I’ll ask.”
“Almost; I had thought—nay, never mind.” “No, tell me. What did you think?” “I’m no goin’ to tell ye; ye’ll laugh at me.” “I promise not to laugh. Tell me.” He caressed my hair, smoothing the curls back from my ear. “Oh, all right. I didna realize that ye did it face to face. I thought ye must do it the back way, like; like horses, ye know.” It was a struggle to keep my promise, but I didn’t laugh. “I know that sounds silly,” he said defensively. “It’s just … well, ye know how you get ideas in your head when you’re young, and then somehow they just stick there?”
“Aye, but not one so close.” His face broke into a broad grin. “And not one that’s mine.”
“How was yer first time, Jamie? Did ye bleed?” shouted Rupert’s easily recognized gravel-pit voice. “Nay, but ye will, ye auld bugger, if ye dinna clapper yer face,”
Sometime in our third encounter, I arched tightly against him and cried out. He drew back at once, startled and apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didna mean to hurt ye.” “You didn’t.” I stretched languorously, feeling dreamily wonderful.
“I thought my heart was going to burst.”
