The possibility made perfect sense. Her father’s keep of Dunnisbrae was moderately prosperous and Isobel was both her father’s only surviving child and a beauty. He could readily understand that Stewart might be attracted to both woman and holding—and that a man of Stewart’s nature might not have accepted the lady’s refusal as a reply.
He could believe that Isobel’s father might have forced her to marry, and that she, out of loyalty to her father, would not have made that fact evident. Her father might have been under duress of Stewart’s making. Aye, that made sense!
Fergus had to know for certain. He had to see Isobel and hear the truth from her own lips. He had to hear her say either that she had no love for him or that she had been forced to wed against her own will.
He had to visit Dunnisbrae as soon as possible.
Fergus spared a glance at the company watching him with such avidity and knew he could not leave immediately, though it might be his impulse. Isobel was married. He would not bring suspicion upon her or launch rumors. His horse deserved a rest, and he would not ride another when he rode to Dunnisbrae. He also would not insult his father by abandoning the meal being prepared to celebrate his return.
He would depart at the dawn.
Even though he itched to ride out immediately.
“Fergus, she did not see your merit and so she does not deserve your regard,” his father said with forced cheer. He patted the seat on his other side. “Come and let me tell you all of the news, for there is more than this to be shared.”
“Of course,” Fergus said, hearing the heat that still lingered in his words. He was stung by Isobel’s betrayal and the destruction of his own hopes, even if the marriage had not been her choice. He had a thought at that and spun to face his father. “Was it a handfast?”
“Nay, nay,” his father said. “The bishop himself came to witness the exchange of their vows. It was no small event.”
Fergus’ gaze collided with that of Leila, who watched him with evident concern. Was Isobel’s choice the reason he had felt a portent of doom?
Or was there more bad news to come?
He could not deny that his sense that something would go awry still lingered.
“Come, Fergus, and tell me how you came to be of aid to this damsel in distress,” Calum encouraged again. “I would hear it all, and if she tells me in her wondrous French, I might well miss a detail.”
“I would give the spices to Iain and Hamish first, Father,” Fergus said, bowing deeply. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts and to accept the disappointment. “And then, my steed must be tended. I must see Tempest settled before I take my leisure with you, if you will so allow it.”
“Of course, of course. Was I not the one who taught you to tend your responsibilities before taking your pleasure?” Calum chuckled as those in the hall returned to their duties and chatter. “Now, Lady Leila, tell me of your home in Outremer. Slowly, if you please.”
“I should be delighted to do as much. I lived in Jerusalem, although I was born in a small village outside of its walls,” Leila began.
“Al-Ramm,” Calum contributed and her eyes lit.
“You know something of Outremer!”
“Aye, I do, though it is many years since I was there. Continue, if you please, my lady.”
“My uncle is a blacksmith...”
Fergus strode from the hall to the bailey, feeling torn. He wanted to listen to Leila’s story as much as he wanted a moment to himself. Duncan followed behind, bringing the saddlebag with its precious burden, and Fergus recalled that it had to be secured, too.
It seemed he had only obligations at Killairic, instead of the joy he had anticipated for so long!
* * *
Duncan was not surprised by Isobel’s choice.
He was more concerned by Fergus’ reaction to the news of her faithlessness. The younger man was distraught, and rightly so, but Duncan was troubled on his behalf. He hoped that Fergus would not act on impulse and put himself in peril.
Duncan was glad that Calum had released him from service to Killairic and yearned to ride north immediately. The matter of his family had to be resolved before he could offer Radegunde a future. He would speak to his father and end their dispute somehow, rather than risk having his father send another assassin after him. At the same time, Duncan did not want to leave Fergus in such a mood. They had been companions too long for him to dismiss concern for the man who had become his friend.
To Duncan’s surprise, they had scarce stepped into the shadow of the stables when Fergus turned upon him. “Where shall we secure it?” he demanded in an undertone.
Duncan flicked a glance down the length of the stables. The ostler was at the far end, several boys helping him to remove the saddles from the horses that had recently arrived. That man gave instruction in a booming voice that would disguise the sound of their own conversation.
Duncan kept his voice low. “Would your father’s treasury be too obvious?”
“It has the stoutest lock, though it is also the first place any soul would seek it,” Fergus acknowledged. “I will need to find a better sanctuary for it in time, but the treasury will have to suffice for the moment.”
Duncan nodded agreement. “Perhaps the Templars will demand its return shortly.”
“I can only hope as much,” Fergus agreed. “I fear it will be difficult to keep it safe for a long period of time.”
“And your repute is at risk if it disappears.”
Fergus nodded and frowned. “It could be easily moved to the treasury today along with the gifts intended for Isobel. I will say that I am concerned about the cloth, for it was expensive.”
“Will you tell your father?”
“I would prefer to tell no one,” Fergus admitted with a grimace. “I suppose at some point I will confide in him. But not yet. Let us secure it first.”
“A fine notion.”
“Perhaps you would supervise the delivery of the gifts to the solar,” Fergus suggested.
“Of course.” Duncan hesitated before following the suggestion, wanting to say something of encouragement to the younger man about his broken betrothal. “Every end is a beginning, lad. Remember that.”
Fergus smiled but there was no joy in his eyes. “That is one way to consider the matter, Duncan. I cannot make sense of it.” He shook his head. “I must see her and soon.”
“Why soon? If you hasten then, others will think you smitten yet.”
“I do not care what others think!”
“But you should. You sound smitten yet. Give it time, lad.”
“You do not understand, Duncan. I must know why she did it.”
Duncan snorted. “And you believe a woman who did not keep her word to you will confess the truth of her choice? You had best remain at Killairic and find a new beginning first.”
“It matters!”
“It does not. She is wed now—by the bishop, no less!—whatever her reasons for so doing. She will remain thus so long as Stewart draws breath.” Duncan tapped Fergus on the shoulder. “Do not even think of shortening that man’s days, lad.”
“Nay, nay, I would never do that!” Fergus was horrified, as Duncan had hoped. The younger man frowned. “But I must see her and hear her explanation. I must go on the morrow.” Duncan made to argue but Fergus held up a hand. “I do not care what others think, Duncan.”
“You might give a care as to what Stewart MacEwan thinks,” he retorted. “I would not be in haste to convince him that I coveted his wife.”
“And so I will not.” Fergus’ expression set. “But I must look her in the eye.” He sighed. “And I must give her the tidings of Kerr, of course.”
Duncan grimaced, for he knew an excuse when he heard it. “You might seize the moment and make your beginning before you depart,” he said, not surprised that his words claimed Fergus’ attention so quickly.
“How?”
“Your father falters in his strength and another winter may see him
stumble. I would not wish for it, but I would see you prepare for the moment that comes to us all.”
Fergus leaned against a stall, his expression grim. “You noticed his frailty as well. I hoped I was the only one.”
“He is much less vigorous than when we departed,” Duncan said and Fergus nodded agreement. He was relieved that Fergus had noticed the change in Calum so they could discuss it. “I suspect he feared for you, for he of all men knew the challenge before us, and that may have aged him more quickly. At any rate, there is a chance to make good of your situation.”
“How so?”
Duncan took a breath, wondering how the younger man would respond to his suggestion. “If I were Stewart MacEwan, I would be much more welcoming to another married man at my portal than to a spurned suitor, even if both came to give tidings to my wife.”
Fergus shook his head. “But I am not married and will not be by the morrow.”
“You could be,” Duncan said. “Here is an opportunity to see your father reassured as well as Leila’s situation improved.”
“Leila?” Fergus blinked. “What has Leila to do with this?”
“She has need of a husband to remain in Scotland. You have need of a wife, because Killairic has need of a son. Your father would be much encouraged to see you settled and the next heir born, and it is clear that he admires Leila already. Stewart, as I noted, would likely be more welcoming if you came to Isobel as a married man yourself.”
“Leila!” Fergus repeated and turned to pace the width of the stables.
“There is friendship between you,” Duncan noted. “Successful marriages have begun on less promise than this.”
“But she wishes to wed for love. A marriage of convenience would be too much like the arranged marriage she abandoned.”
“Would it? I understood the chosen man was violent, as you are not.”
Fergus shook his head. “She must have the opportunity to find the love she seeks above all else. I will defend her right to choose. A marriage will not do.”
“Then a handfast,” Duncan suggested. “A year and a day together. It will give her security and you companionship, perhaps even a son. Your father will be pleased, as well.”
“A handfast,” Fergus echoed. “It is an excellent notion and a good compromise.” He straightened with purpose. “But she must know all of the truth. It can be a match of convenience and no more.”
Duncan hid his approval, guessing that his preference for Leila as Fergus’ bride would not be welcome. “Then wed her on this day, without delay, the better to ensure that your motives are not doubted when you ride to Dunnisbrae, and that Leila herself is safe from those who might prey upon her.”
Fergus’ eyes narrowed. “Murdoch,” he said with a bitterness that Duncan found encouraging.
“He eyes her, to be sure, and you know as well as me that Murdoch will bed a woman but not wed her. If she is unwed in this hall, he might take advantage of her.”
Fergus fairly growled at that notion, a most welcome sign to Duncan.
He continued. “If Leila is your wife, though, he will defend her to his dying breath. I have always said that Murdoch made a better ally than foe.”
“It must be today, though.” Fergus glanced toward the ostler and his boys. “But I need to speak to Leila alone first, in case the suggestion is not pleasing.” He indicated the ostler and his helpers, then arched a brow, inviting Duncan to create a tale.
Duncan cleared his throat and raised his voice a little, knowing that those men had taken note of their arrival. “All the same, sir, I am sorry that you arrived home to such news of your betrothed.”
“If she did not wish to wait, perhaps it is better that she wed another,” Fergus said with a sigh. “Indeed, I will send her congratulations and a nuptial gift.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Will you see all my purchases and belongings placed in the solar, Duncan? I will come to make a choice shortly.” Fergus dropped his voice to a whisper, his gaze locking with Duncan’s. “Send Leila to me, please. I do not care what excuse you use.”
“Of course,” Duncan had time to say before Fergus strode the length of the stables. He admired, as ever, that once the younger man had resolved upon a course, he did not delay in fulfilling it.
“You have a gift with steeds, Stephen, it is most clear,” Fergus said and that man smiled at this praise. “And such speed with brushing them down. It must be because you have such enthusiastic assistance.”
“Aye, sir, the boys do very well.”
“I would complete the grooming of Tempest myself, Stephen.” Fergus patted the rump of his dark destrier. “We have become quite accustomed to each other these past years.”
“Aye, sir.”
“I see that Duncan’s mount, Caledon, is groomed already, which is admirable.” Stephen bowed and Fergus continued. “I did want also to speak to you about the stabling.”
“Sir?”
Fergus shook his head in apparent dismay. “We have found the stallions to be most amorous in recent days.”
The ostler chuckled. “Spring is in the air, my lord.”
“Indeed. Perhaps the palfreys could be stabled in the village and temptation thus put at a distance.”
Duncan was intrigued by this tale, for he had noticed no change in the horses’ manner. He lingered to listen.
“Of course, sir.”
“Could you find accommodation for the Templars’ destriers elsewhere, as well? We have found it best of late to divide the stallions from each other and from the mares, though I hope their inclination will soon pass.”
“Of course, sir. Tempest can have the most distant stall from Caledon, and the palfreys can be stabled in the smith’s barn. I would imagine that one of the Templar’s destriers could be stabled in the plowman’s small barn and the other housed by the miller’s abode.”
“That would be excellent, Stephen. Duncan will depart in the morning, and I expect the Templars will leave shortly, as well.”
“Then all will be returned to normal soon enough, sir. It is no trouble to made a change or two to accommodate guests such as these fine steeds.”
Duncan watched as the ostler and his boys led the horses out of the stables, leaving the knight alone with the two destriers. Duncan strode into the bailey to do his part in giving Fergus the opportunity he needed to speak to Leila alone.
The warrior smiled as he approached the hall, convinced as he was that Fergus would find precisely the partner he needed if he took Leila’s hand within his own. It was all the encouragement Duncan needed to ride north with all haste and ensure that he could invite Radegunde to join him by the anniversary of their handfast.
He had but four months remaining to see his own future secured.
* * *
It was painful to witness Fergus’ shock and dismay.
Leila wished she could console him, but feared that any gesture on her part would restore the strained silence of the past days. She watched, furious, as the boys brought in trunk after trunk, each one laden with gifts for Isobel. What kind of woman would break her vow within months of her betrothed’s departure? Certainly not one who deserved the regard of this man.
It seemed to her that Fergus could not even bear to look at the trunks. That only added to Leila’s sense of injustice. She remembered all too well how delighted he had been after visiting the markets in Venice, how he had clearly anticipated seeing his gifts adorn his beloved.
Faithless shrew! Had Isobel forgotten the man who held her at the forefront of his thoughts? Home was of the greatest import to Fergus and he had admitted himself that it was the prospect of his return that had given him strength in the face of adversity. It seemed Isobel had cared little for him. Leila might not have followed all of the conversation, but she had understood that.
Did Isobel ever consider that anticipation of their future, that his love for her, might have helped Fergus to survive? He and Duncan never spoke of whatever battles they had jo
ined in Palestine, but Fergus had served with the Templars and those knights rode to battle regularly. Leila did not doubt that the two men were close because they had each saved the other’s life, and probably more than once.
Did Isobel think of that? Nay, it seemed that beautiful Isobel cared only for her own comfort and satisfaction. A son! Her match was not a mere formality, to be sure.
Leila’s hands balled into fists in her lap as she sat beside Calum, and she hoped that no one noticed her indignation. The older man was charming and asked questions about Outremer that showed he had journeyed there. His French was slow, but he was good-natured about it, and Leila found that she liked him well. She could see that Calum had been a warrior himself, for he shared Duncan’s alert manner and quick gaze, and there were scars upon his hands and one upon his cheek. Doubtless there were more scars she could not see. She admired that warfare had not made him bitter and suspected that he was more tolerant than many she had known.
She was well aware of Murdoch watching her, but avoided the warrior’s gaze. His interest was clear but without knowing its precise nature, Leila would not encourage him.
Even so, her thoughts were with Fergus.
When Duncan returned to the hall alone, Leila’s gaze flew to him. To her relief, he came to her side.
“I beg your pardon, Leila, but Fergus asks if you might look at the hoof of his destrier,” Duncan said. “He fears Tempest has stepped upon something this morning, for the beast favors one foot.”
Leila stood immediately, knowing the value of the destrier and the importance of prompt attention. “Of course!”
“Do I misunderstand?” Calum asked, looking between them. “Do you know much of horses, Lady Leila?”
“She would challenge the knowledge of the best ostler, my lord,” Duncan said. “We have come to rely heavily upon her counsel.”
“What a marvel,” Calum said. “The Saracens have much knowledge about medical matters, I know, and it makes good sense that such expertise extends to horses. And you did mention that your uncle was a blacksmith. Do not keep an injured destrier waiting, much less his devoted knight, Lady Leila. Not upon my account.” He winked at her. “There are males not worth the trouble of vexing, but I am no longer one of them.”
The Crusader’s Vow: A Medieval Romance Page 5