The Crusader’s Vow: A Medieval Romance

by Claire Delacroix

  “It has been peaceful, to be sure,” Calum agreed. “But should you not take Hamish with you?”

  Fergus shook his head, then smiled at Leila. “I would not leave Leila without a translator when she takes command of the keep’s resources.”

  Calum chuckled. “Indeed, indeed. I am inclined to sleep late, Lady Leila, but on the morrow, feel free to assert your authority in the hall. You are its lady now, and we both rely upon you to aid in its administration.”

  “I thank you,” Leila said, feeling her excitement rise in anticipation of this responsibility. She knew she would enjoy it. “And thank you, Fergus, for the offer of Hamish’s assistance.” She thought it a poor idea for Fergus to ride alone, but did not say as much just yet. She had a suggestion to make but decided to do it in private, lest it appear that she was challenging Fergus before the entire village.

  “And so it is resolved,” Fergus said.

  Then Calum raised a finger. “But Duncan’s planned departure reminds me of my debt,” he said, then rose to his feet.

  “You owe me naught...” Duncan began to protest, but Calum ignored him.

  He raised his voice. “Baldwin, bring the prize we discussed to me, if you please.”

  A sturdy man approached the high table. There was a fine crossbow balanced on his palms, the wood inlaid in a style familiar to Leila.

  “It is fine, is it not?” Calum asked her with pride.

  “It is, indeed,” Leila said, knowing her admiration was clear. “Was it made in the east?”

  “In Constantinople. It is a noble weapon, which has awaited the right warrior.” Calum winked. “He is found.”

  Leila smiled, liking that he was as generous as his son. This trait was why people were so loyal to Calum and would be thus to his son.

  Calum lifted the crossbow in his hands as the company watched, then pivoted to present it to Duncan. “A fitting gift for a warrior who has served me so valiantly for so long. This is for you, Duncan, and if you accept it, this gift will balance the debt between us.”

  “I would argue that it leaves me again obligated to you,” Duncan said, but Calum only laughed.

  “Let us agree, for I would see you find your future happiness sooner rather than later.” He gave Duncan a stern eye. “And you may have need of such a fine weapon, if you journey where I suspect you will.”

  “I do and you know it well.”

  “Just as I know you will not be turned from your goal.” Calum nodded. “Take it. Let me see you well armed on this quest.”

  Duncan smiled, then accepted the crossbow, admiring it so openly that Leila was pleased on his behalf. “I am honored, as you well know.” He dropped to one knee before Calum. “Know, sir, that you can always rely upon my alliance and friendship.”

  “No man could ask for more,” Calum said, clasping Duncan’s shoulders and lifting him to his feet. He kissed Duncan’s cheeks, then the company applauded the generosity of his gift. They saluted the health of both men, then returned to their conversations as Calum took his seat again.

  Some of the villagers left their places and fetched instruments. They conferred together as stray notes sounded, and evidently there would be music this night.

  Leila stroked the rich garment Calum had given to her. “Will you tell me more of your journey to the east?”

  The older man patted her hand. “I will, but another time. This is a night for dancing, not for tales recounted around the fire. You may be sure that there will be many nights when a tale will be more welcome than other deeds.” Then he winked at her and Leila felt herself flush, for she understood his meaning well.

  He anticipated that she would quickly be with child and more inclined to sit and talk.

  She found herself blushing…and hoping the very same.

  She was also reassured that his words implied he did see a handfast as equivalent to marriage.

  Calum chuckled at her, then the music began, and Fergus urged her to her feet.

  5

  Fergus was entranced.

  Leila danced with vigor, her eyes flashing and her feet flying, her lithe figure drawing the eye of more than one man in the hall. Though she did not know the steps of their customary dances when the music began, she learned them quickly. She laughed and her eyes shone so that Fergus was reluctant to surrender her to another partner.

  They danced until they were out of breath and then they danced yet more. His father clapped, so clearly pleased with the match that Fergus would never tell him the truth of it. Even Duncan danced with Leila and the sound of her merriment made more than one person in the hall smile.

  When the candles had burned low, he sent the maid Agnes to the solar to prepare it, his own anticipation rising. When Leila spun back to him, he caught her in his arms for one last dance. “Shall we retire?” he asked, aware of the quick glance she cast his way.

  “I assume our traditions are the same and the match should be consummated on this night.”

  “I would advise it. Do you dread the coupling?”

  “No,” Leila said without hesitation. “I am a maiden, of course, but you are a man of great kindness. I expect that we may both be well pleased.”

  Her trust warmed Fergus to his toes. “I have sent Agnes to light the candles,” he confided.

  Leila’s eyes flashed but she dropped her gaze. Instead of appreciating that she was tactful, Fergus wished again for her honesty. “Someone had to do it,” he whispered.

  “I think it unwise to allow any soul in that chamber alone.”

  “You yet have the key to the treasury,” he reminded her.

  She granted him a somber look. “And every lock can be broken. At Gaston’s abode, there were many keys...”

  “Do not be suspicious on this night,” Fergus entreated. “They will all accompany us to the solar. It is tradition that the women see the bride to bed, then the men bring the husband. The priest will bless the bed, then we shall be expected to produce proof of the union in the morning.”

  Leila sighed and so obviously refrained from comment that Fergus whispered to her. “Remember that we promised honesty to each other,” he said and she nodded. “Tell me.”

  “You must know that this sounds barbaric to me. Are we truly a mare and stud, meeting abed only for the conception of a child?”

  “In the eyes of many, aye, we are.” Fergus raised his brows and whispered to her. “But none need know that we intend to enjoy the rendering of the marital debt.”

  Leila laughed as the music ended. Fergus spun her to a breathless halt, then bent and kissed her fingertips. He said something in Gaelic, to much applause, and Leila understood she was to depart. She found Hamish’s aunt on her one side and another stocky woman from the village on the other. That woman fingered the cloth of her kirtle with the admiration of one who knew of textiles.

  “Margaret?” Leila guessed and the woman smiled at her. She mimicked the gesture of sewing as they climbed the stairs, and Margaret nodded eagerly. When they entered the solar, Leila hastened to the cloth that she and Fergus had put aside for her. She touched the sheer cotton, then the chemise she wore, then the two lengths of heavier cloth and lifted the kirtle. She made the stitching motion again then gestured to herself.

  Margaret nodded her agreement, holding up the red cloth to Leila’s chin and commenting. Leila caught only a few words but understood that Margaret approved of this color for her.

  She showed Margaret the needles and indicated that they were a gift, and after much waving and laughing, Leila was certain she had been understood. She then lifted the hem of the kirtle she wore and grimaced at the dirt where it had dragged. Margaret clicked her tongue and dropped to her knees. She folded the hem once and held it so that Leila could see the result of turning it up that much. They both nodded in agreement that this would be an improvement.

  Margaret began to undo the laces of the purple kirtle, pinching and tucking the fabric as she did so. She murmured to herself, as if committing the changes to me
mory. Leila turned as the woman bade her, understanding that she knew her craft. When she had shed the dress, Margaret cast the garment over her shoulder.

  She pointed to Leila, made a walking motion with her fingers, then pointed out the window to the village. “Tomorrow?” she asked and Leila was glad to recognize the word.

  “Tomorrow,” she agreed with a smile, then continued with care. “After noon.”

  Margaret nodded and smiled her approval of this notion. She and Mhairi bustled Leila toward the bed, removing her shoes and stockings when she sat on the mattress. She was left in only her chemise, and one of the women took a comb to her hair. Leila noticed that Agnes, while purportedly her maid, busied herself with candles and stirring the coals in the braziers.

  Mhairi touched the hem of Leila’s chemise as if to lift it, then met her gaze with a questioning expression. Leila understood that most brides were left naked but her deep blush at the notion made the two women smile. They conferred and allowed Leila her chemise, which was sheer but offered some modesty.

  There was a ruckus at the door, and a great company of men burst into the solar with Fergus. He was laughing and had been stripped to his braies, and once again, Leila was struck by his good looks. His hair was tousled and his eyes were sparkling, and Leila thought again that he looked his best when he was merry.

  She would ensure he was so, as often as possible.

  Mhairi and Margaret exchanged a glance and raised their brows. Mhairi winked at her and clutched her heart. Leila laughed, which both women seemed to appreciate. Margaret made a gesture as if she rocked a babe, and Leila nodded with enthusiasm. While the men were yet at the portal, Leila held her thumb at her own crotch as if it was a penis, then mimicking rocking a child. The two older woman laughed aloud as they nodded agreement.

  Meanwhile, the men were urging Fergus into the chamber. He climbed into the bed beside her and claimed her hand in his, then bowed his head as the priest intoned a prayer. Leila bowed her head as well, seeing from the corner of her eye that Margaret was mimicking her gesture with her thumb. She bit back her laughter, knowing that she was being teased. The company sang some chorus together, led by the priest, and Leila assumed it was another prayer.

  Then Fergus roared for privacy and the villagers departed, laughing and shouting what must have been friendly advice as they did so. Margaret took the purple kirtle as well as the cloth and needles, with Mhairi helping her to carry it all. Fergus left the bed and locked the portal behind them, even as the music began from the hall once again.

  He leaned his back against the door, his eyes gleaming as he regarded Leila. “And so we are alone at last.”

  Leila could see no reason to pretend the situation was other than it was. “And yet not the wedding night you had expected.”

  “Nor the one you anticipated,” Fergus said, crossing the floor with measured steps. He sat on the side of the mattress. “This is your last opportunity to change your thinking.”

  “It is too late. I would not disappoint your father.”

  Fergus took her hand in his. “Do you know what to expect this night?”

  “Well enough.” Leila closed her hand over his, seeing that he was torn. “I am not Isobel, and I never will be. I will not pretend to be. But I will try to be the best wife to you, Fergus, that I can.”

  “That is the most one can expect from a marriage of convenience.”

  “Is it?” Leila dared to challenge him a little. “Gaston and Ysmaine wed for mutual convenience, and I would argue that they found much more than a child in their union.”

  Fergus smiled sadly. “I would not have you aspire to what may not be, Leila. My heart is given and lost forever. Even though Isobel has wed another, she will always be my beloved. I will be as good a husband to you as I can, but that and a good home may be all I can offer to you.”

  Leila rose to her knees and framed his face in her hands. “The heart heals, Fergus.”

  “I am skeptical.”

  She smiled. “Then I shall have to be so beguiling that I convince you otherwise.” She gave him no opportunity to argue, not this time, but leaned against him and kissed him sweetly.

  Fergus caught his breath, a delicious sign of his awareness of her, then caught her around the waist. He drew her against his heat with one arm, even as he slanted his mouth over hers and deepened his kiss.

  He tasted of mulled wine and Leila opened her mouth to him in capitulation, pushing her fingers into the thick waves of his hair. He eased her to her back, following her down to the mattress, and she loved the way his weight pressed her down into its softness. His hand rose to her breast and he brushed his palm across it, the fleeting touch making her ache for more. Leila gasped and arched her back, surrendering completely to him and whatever he desired of her.

  He was her husband and her lord.

  He was the captor of her heart.

  And she would do whatever was necessary to persuade him that there was too much merit in this match to put it aside.

  * * *

  Fergus was awed by Leila’s trust of him.

  He had admired her bravery before, but on this night, it was inescapable. That she met him abed as a maiden without hesitation was as sure an indication as he could imagine of her resolve to make a home for herself in Scotland. She had said she would bear him a child and reminded him of Gaston and Ysmaine finding love in their sensible match.

  Yet Fergus was aware of the differences. He was not as practical as Gaston, nor was Leila as inclined to surrender to duty as Ysmaine. That pair had found love unexpected, while Leila sought to love in marriage. Indeed, she had left everything she knew behind to seek it.

  But the other difference was that he also had already fallen in love, as neither Gaston nor Ysmaine had before their marriage. His heart was no longer his to give.

  The fact was that he and Leila had a handfast and he was determined to treat her with every dignity. He pushed Isobel from his thoughts. He refused to compare the two women, not on this night, and concentrated instead upon learning all he could of the lady who had put her hand in his. Fergus broke his kiss and surveyed Leila, wanting to savor every moment of their first night together.

  Leila was so tiny compared to him. She was considerably shorter than he and weighed much less. All the same, she was strong, and he thought her power was buttressed by her resolve. She did nothing by half-measures and flung herself whole-heartedly into any endeavor. He had only to think of how she had defended the reliquary on their journey to be reminded of that.

  She would still defend it, which he respected.

  Despite the difference in their size, there was no doubt that she was a woman and not a child. Her curves were enticing, her waist tiny and her breasts full. Her lips were ripe and ruddy, and her eyes so beguilingly feminine. When she smiled at him, as she had many times this day and did again now, Fergus could not deny his desire.

  He opened her chemise and bared her flesh to his view. She watched him, still smiling, content to let him explore, so confident in her trust that he was humbled. Her skin was a rich gold and her nipples were a deep rose. As he brushed his fingertips over one, the nipple hardened to a point and she caught her breath. He bent and took that peak in his mouth, teasing it so that it tightened even more, liking how she moved her hips and gasped. He reached for the hem of her chemise and slipped his hand under it, letting his palm slide up the silk of her thighs. She anticipated him, parting her legs, and his fingers slid into slick heat.

  He caressed her, slowly at first, letting her become accustomed to his bold touch. She whispered his name and opened her thighs wider, her fingers knotted in his hair. He abandoned the nipple and captured her mouth again, kissing her thoroughly as his caress became more demanding. She met him touch for touch, clutching at him as she let him summon the tide within her.

  Trusting him completely. Fergus was more than humbled—he was awed. He felt the race of Leila’s pulse and smelled her arousal. He teased her relentlessly, wan
ting to ensure that she was ready for their union. She was so tiny, and he had no desire to hurt her, or much less reward her trust with pain. She tore her lips from his and whispered his name, but Fergus did not surrender. He braced himself over her and caressed her more boldly, sliding his fingertips over her as her agitation rose.

  “I thought pleasure was to be savored together,” she managed to say.

  Fergus smiled. “On this night, you shall find yours first.”

  “No,” she said with a flash of her eyes. “Together first. The first time as it always should be.”

  She was so fierce that he did not want to disappoint her.

  “It is not readily done,” Fergus had time to protest before she rolled to her side and closed her hand over his erection. The pressure was perfect, both gentle and unshakable, exactly like the lady herself. Fergus closed his eyes in pleasure, even as she caressed him through his braies, and rolled to his back.

  Leila chuckled with satisfaction. She rose to her knees and cast off her chemise. Fergus could only stare at the sight of her beauty, so perfectly illuminated in the light of the candles. She unfastened his braies and flung the cloth aside, then landed atop him with delight. Fergus chuckled as he caught her close, then pushed a hand through her hair. It was as long as her shoulders now, and he wished he had seen it before she cut it off in Jerusalem.

  “How long was it?” he asked, fingering its dark silk.

  “To my hips. It had not been cut in years before that day.”

  “Do you regret the loss?”

  She gave him an intent look, her eyes sparkling in the way that so beguiled him. “Fergus, hair will grow back. It was a small sacrifice to ensure my freedom.”

  “How much would you have surrendered to avoid that match?”

  “Anything,” she said with such fervor that he believed her. She ran a hand over his chest and her touch gave him a thrill. “I like this,” she said, pushing her fingers through the patch of hair there. “Just a little, not too much.” Her eyes gleamed as she closed her finger and thumb around his nipple and pinched. “Just enough,” she whispered, then mimicked the way he had teased her nipple. When her teeth grazed the tight peak, Fergus found himself gasping, then felt the breath of her laughter.