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Perhaps he should ht, as further evidence that e and childbirth were not necessarily mortal to women Or perhaps it was better just to leave that subject lie quiet for a bit
Beyond thoughts of Joan and her children, though, he was haunted by the soft, bright eyes of Iain Mhor How old was he? Roger wondered, grasping the springy branch of a pine to keep froravel I; the pale, twisted face was lined and worn--but with pain and struggle, not age He was no larger than a boy of twelve or so, but Iain Mhor was older than his na was sixteen
He was likely younger than Joan; but perhaps not She had treated hier to hi a visitor to the head of the faer, then--say thirty or ht, how did ain times like these? But as he had backed aardly away froirls had crawled into the crude shelter fro before her, and had sat down matter-of-factly by her uncle’s head, spoon in hand Iain Mhor had liave Roger a tight feeling in his chest, so lower down, as he recalled Joan Findlay’s words
Send them safe hoirls and a helpless brother Had she any property? he wondered
He had heard a good deal of talk on the ’s Proclamation Given that the matter had plainly not been sufficiently iht thisIf it did, though, he vowed to hih Findlay well away froer And if there was bounty money, they should have their share
In the meantimehe hesitated He had just passed Jocasta Cae, with its cluster of tents, wagons, and lean-tos In anticipation of her wedding--now a double wedding--Jocasta had brought almost all of her house slaves, and not a few of the field hands as well Beyond the livestock, tobacco, and goods brought for trade, there were trunks of clothes and bedding and dishes, trestles, tables, hogsheads of ale, and mountains of food intended for the celebration afterward He and Bree had breakfasted with Mrs Ca off china painted with roses: slices of succulent fried haar, a coers with honey, Jarowl of recollection
The contrasts between that lavishness and the recent poverty of the Findlay encampment were too much to be borne with complacence He turned upon his heel with sudden decision, and began the short climb back to Jocasta’s tent
Jocasta Cameron was at home, so to speak; he saw her htless as she was, she still ventured out to call upon friends, escorted by Duncan or her black butler, Ulysses More often, though, she allowed the Gathering to cohout the day, all the Scottish society of the Cape Fear and the colony co to enjoy her renowned hospitality
For the li in her cane-bottomed chair, feet in slippers, and her head fallen back in apparent repose Her body servant, Phaedre, sat on a stool near the open tent flap, needle in hand, squinting in the hazy light over a spill of blue fabric that filled her lap
Jocasta sensed him first; she sat up in her armchair, and her head turned sharply as he touched the tent flap Phaedre glanced up belatedly, reacting to her mistress’s movement rather than his presence
"Mr MacKenzie It is the Thrush, is it no?" Mrs Cahed, and ducked his head to enter the tent, obeying her gesture
"It is And how did ye ken that, Mrs Ca one Have I a tuneful ?" Brianna had told him of her aunt’s uncanny ability to compensate for her blindness by means of other senses, but he was still surprised at her acuity
"I heard your step, and then I smelt the blood on you," she said ain, has it not? Come, lad, sit Will we fetch ye a dish of tea, or a draers went involuntarily to the gash in his throat He’d forgotten it entirely in the rush of the day’s events, but she was right; it had bled again, leaving a crusty stain down the side of his neck and over the collar of his shirt
Phaedre was already up, asse a tray from the array of cakes and biscuits on a srass underfoot, Roger thought, he would scarcely know they were not in Mrs Ca room at River Run She rapped in a woolen arisaid, but even that was fastened by a handso," he said, self-conscious, but Jocasta took the cloth fro the cut herself Her long fingers were cool on his skin, and surprisingly deft
She smelled of woodsmoke, as everybody on the , but there was none of the faintly camphorated musty odor he norot it on your shirt," she inforly "Will we launder it for ye? Though I dinna ken d’ye want to wear it sopping; it’ll never dry by nightfall"
"Ah, no, , I mean"
"Well, then" Phaedre had produced a snized it as one of Claire’s, by the soldenseal Jocasta scooped up a thumbnail of the ointers steady on his jawbone
Her skin ell-kept and soft, but it showed the effects not only of age but weather There were ruddy patches in her cheeks, nets of tiny broken veins that froht distance lent her an air of health and vitality Her hands showed no liver spots--of course, she was of a wealthy faloves out-of-doors all her life--but the joints were knobbed and the pal of reins Not a hothouse flower, this daughter of Leoch, despite her surroundings
Finished, she passed her hand lightly over his face and head, picked a dried leaf from his hair, then wiped his face with the da hi her own fingers around his
"There, now Presentable once more! And now that ye’re fit for company, Mr MacKenzie--did ye co by?"