The Crusader’s Vow: A Medieval Romance

by Claire Delacroix

  “You like this,” she said, her other hand caressing his erection.

  “I like you,” Fergus admitted, knowing it was true, and her eyes shone.

  “Then take me, husband,” she whispered, rising to straddle him. Her hair was disheveled, her features so alight that she was irresistible. Fergus caught her around the waist and lifted her over himself, closing his eyes in rapture when he slid inside her heat. She caught her breath a little, and he paused, his hands shaking, but she smiled down at him.

  “Not so much of a twinge,” she said and arched a brow, looking mischievous and delightful. “I’ve ridden too many horses, perhaps.”

  Fergus smiled, then settled her atop him, the sweet power of their union flooding his body with heat. Leila moved, rising then lowering herself again, her gaze locked upon him. Fergus felt his heart clamor and had no words for the unbearable pleasure.

  “Four years,” Leila whispered and moved again.

  “Four years,” he agreed, hearing the tension in his voice. “I fear I will disappoint you with my haste.”

  “Impossible,” she replied, easing herself down to lie upon his chest. She kissed him, even as his hands roved over her back and locked around her waist once more. “At any rate, we have more than three hundred nights to savor each other slowly.”

  Fergus laughed a little. “True enough.” He ran a hand over her head, drawing her near to kiss her again. He had hoped that the kiss might temper his response that he might last longer, but Leila slipped her tongue between his teeth, her hunger for him sending fire through his veins once more. His hips began to pump, and she locked her knees around him, welcoming him and drawing him ever deeper, her ardent kiss feeding his desire.

  He rolled her abruptly to her side, desperate to give her the pleasure she desired, and eased his hand between them. She might have protested, but when he touched her with his fingertip, the words died on her lips. She moaned and closed her eyes, clutching at his shoulders. Fergus felt triumphant when she quickly found her release.

  Her heat clenched around him in a most beguiling way. He saw the wild flutter of her pulse at her throat and swallowed her cry of exultation as she shook in his arms. Unable to resist the temptation she offered, Fergus rolled Leila to her back and buried himself inside her with a moan of rapture.

  Then Leila pulled his mouth down for a heated kiss and Fergus was lost in the splendor that was his new wife.

  * * *

  The consummation was far more pleasurable than Leila had anticipated.

  She lay back on the great bed, holding Fergus as he caught his breath. His heart was thundering and pressed against hers. She had her fingers in his hair, his weight atop her, his breath against her neck and his heat inside her. She could not imagine a better place to be.

  All too soon, he heaved a sigh, then braced his weight on his elbows to look down at her. She smiled at his evident satisfaction and liked the gleam of admiration in his eyes.

  “Did you find your pleasure?” he murmured and she felt the vibration of his voice against her chest.

  “Can you doubt it?”

  “Nay, but it seemed polite to confirm.”

  Leila laughed and Fergus rolled to his back, then sighed again.

  She propped herself upon her elbow to stare down at him. “And you, sir?” she asked, tracing a circle around his nipple with her fingertip. He captured her hand in his, kissed her palm, and smiled at her.

  “Can you doubt it?”

  “It seemed polite to confirm.”

  They laughed together then, and Fergus rose from the bed. He fetched a cloth and the bucket of water, then helped Leila to wash. The linen with its blood stain was removed and set aside, and they worked together to put fresh linens on the bed. “I will give it to my father before I leave in the morning,” Fergus said. “You do not need to be present when he shows it to the household.”

  Leila smiled that he understood she would find it crude. “I would prefer a more telling proof,” she said lightly as she donned her chemise again.

  Fergus tugged a chemise over his head, then gave her a look. “Like?”

  “A child rounding my belly. That will set all concerns to rest.”

  He pulled back the covers, inviting her back to the bed. “Come and be warm. We will try again soon.” He yawned. “I am spent for this night and you will need a day or two to recover.”

  “I am stronger than that,” she said and Fergus smiled. When they were tucked into the bed anew, with fur pelts around them and the curtains drawn against the cold, the music from the hall seemed more clear. Leila rolled to her back to look at Fergus, not yet ready to sleep. “Were you truly chaste for four years?”

  He nodded ruefully. “And counted every day and night of it.”

  Leila wondered if he and Isobel had been intimate before he departed, but did not truly want to ask. “I thought it might be simpler in a company of monks.”

  “Jerusalem was the easiest part of it, to be sure, though Wulfe was not the sole one to find pleasure with whores in Outremer.”

  She laced her fingers with his, liking this new intimacy enough to want more of it, yet not wanting to demand too much lest he move away.

  To think of Isobel.

  “I admire that you kept a vow of chastity,” she said. “It is not a sacrifice that most men can manage.”

  “I think you know something of determination, Leila.”

  “Perhaps that is a trait we have in common.”

  He smiled at her. “Perhaps it is.”

  “Is it true that you can see the future?” Leila asked.

  Fergus nodded. “Duncan likes to make much of it, but I see less than he imagines.”

  “He said you were born to the caul. What does that mean?”

  “It means that part of the womb was still covering my face when I was born. It is considered a sign in these parts that the child will have the gift of foresight.” He shrugged. “Also, my mother’s hair was as red as a flame. In England, that is often considered an indication of otherworldly powers.”

  Leila saw affection light Fergus’ eyes. Her aunt had said it was a good sign for a man to be fond of his mother, and that any man’s treatment of his mother was a good indication of how he would treat his wife. “She was fierce in her opinions and she had a temper, to be sure, but she had no powers beyond that of a strong will.”

  Leila smiled in her turn, for she thought it good that she and Fergus’ mother had some trait in common. “If that was all it took to make a witch, the majority of those women of my acquaintance would be found so.”

  Fergus laughed. “Indeed.”

  “What exactly do you see? Or how do you see it?”

  He pursed his lips, choosing his words. Leila appreciated that he took her question seriously and did not dismiss her curiosity. It seemed he would stand by their agreement to be honest with each other, and she liked that. “It is not seeing as we do each day, as I see you here and now. It is not even like a dream, which can be clearly envisioned and follows a sequence of events. It can be like a dream, though, in that it seldom makes sense right away. And more often, it is a sense.”

  “A sense?”

  “An awareness or a conviction. Crossing this avenue would be a mistake: step back instead and wait. Rounding this corner will change all: choose another route to the destination.”

  “It sounds very immediate, like a mu'aqqib giving you advice.”

  “A mu'aqqib?”

  “An angel, charged to keep you from death until the decreed time.”

  “I did not know you believed in angels.”

  “The Qur’an says we are each guarded by two angels, one before and one behind. It says they are made of light and can take any form.” Leila smiled at his obvious surprise. “Belief in angels is one of the six articles of faith of Islam.”

  “Truly?” His gaze was bright upon her.

  “Truly. The word was delivered to the Prophet by Jibril, the angel you call Gabriel.” She lifted
her brows. “How could one believe the message and discredit the messenger?”

  Fergus chuckled. “True enough. What are the other five articles?”

  “That Allah or God is one supreme being, with no siblings or parents.” Leila counted off the six on her fingers as she recited them. “That He sent his message to the prophets, which include Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad. That the gospels are His word and revelation, including the Torah, the Gospels, and the Qur’an. That there will be a resurrection and a day of judgment when we shall be judged for our deeds, good and bad. And finally, that Allah knows all, past, present, and future. All earthly life is His divine plan.”

  Fergus raised his brows. “It is not that different.”

  Leila shrugged. “There is much similarity in our core beliefs, to be sure.” She knew what she had to ask, though it felt bold to do so. “Will you tell me what you see of the future?”

  “For you or for me?”

  “Either or both.”

  “I never see beyond the next instant for myself. The sense that I should step back or turn another way is the sum of my foresight, with regards to my own fate.”

  “But it must be useful, all the same.”

  He smiled. “I imagine it is responsible for my return home. More than once, I knew we had to take another route or halt an assault. Every time, if Duncan and I had continued, we would have died with others.” A shadow touched his features.

  “Do you blame yourself for their loss?”

  He frowned. “It is impossible not to do so, yet it would be similarly impossible to halt an army because I had a feeling it should be done.”

  “And what of my future? Is it rude for me to ask? Or unlucky?”

  “Unusual, at the least. Many people do not want to know.” He eyed her, his gaze dark. “I have seen you with a child, since we left Haynesdale,” he admitted. “A babe, which I know is your babe. Indeed, you look tired in my vision, as if you had just brought the child into the world.”

  “Oh! I am glad to know I should survive that.”

  A fleeting smile touched his lips. “And you will be gladder yet that the child is a boy.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “And his eyes are clear blue.”

  Leila was astonished. “I hope it is your son.”

  “As do I.”

  “What a wondrous vision for our first night together,” she said, though Fergus did not reply. “How many children shall we have?”

  Fergus laughed and shook a finger at her. “My gift is not like that. It reveals what it will, no more and no less. You will deliver of a healthy son with blue eyes. That is all I know.”

  “And it should be sufficient. I thank you for such a reassurance.”

  “You are joyous in my vision, Leila. Laughing and much enamored with the boy. He looks to be perfect, so your judgment is sound.” He smiled but dropped his gaze. “It is a most pleasing vision.”

  Leila felt her cheeks heat and her throat tighten. She fervently hoped this vision was true and that the father was Fergus. “And Duncan?”

  “I have seen a gem on his shoulder, holding his cloak. A prize and a mark of status. He stands taller in that vision, like a leader of men, but there are shadows in his eyes, perhaps because of what he has done to achieve his goal.”

  “Triumph can demand much of a man,” Leila ceded, wondering what to make of that vision. “Is Radegunde not with him?”

  “I do not know. I have dreamed of her running through a field of flowers, with two children, their hair of the same hue as her own. They laugh together, but I cannot tell the gender of the children.” He frowned and rubbed his brow. “That vision is fleeting.”

  “Can you tell where they are?”

  He shrugged. “A field in summer, beneath a clear sky.” His gaze met hers and she sensed that he wished for reassurance.

  “It seems a gift that raises more questions than it answers.”

  “It does, indeed.”

  “And what do you see for your father and Killairic?”

  Fergus swung his legs around and rose from the bed. He went to the window and opened the shutter, the moonlight touching his silhouette as he looked over the land. Leila hesitated only a moment before following him and resting her hand upon his back. His skin was warm and smooth, his strength reassuring beneath her touch. He captured her hand in his and held it against his chest, as if they were friends instead of husband and wife.

  Instead of lovers.

  Leila wrapped her arms around his waist and was glad he did not push her away. He kept one hand within his own, his other arm sliding around her waist to hold her close.

  She could have stood thus forever.

  The hall was falling quiet below them and she heard the sounds of the villagers returning to their homes. The land seemed tranquil and quiet, different from her homeland and yet so very welcome.

  Fergus looked at their hands, his brow furrowed. “I have sensed a shadow ever since we left Jerusalem, like a cloud of ill fortune that loomed ahead of us. I have expected something to go badly awry ever since we left the Temple.”

  “Things have gone awry,” Leila reminded him. “Kerr died, Christina was assaulted, Duncan was hunted, and Gaston faced rebellion in his own home.”

  Fergus raised a hand. “Yet after each incident, the cloud became darker and more ominous, not less.”

  Leila swallowed. “And when you learned that Isobel had wed?”

  “Darker yet,” he said and shook his head. “Some dire fate lies ahead, Leila, but I cannot see more than that. I fear its import.”

  “The warning is a blessing,” she said with a confidence she did not feel. “For it will ensure that we are prepared.”

  “I do not want to live with suspicion.”

  “We will not, but we will be slower to trust than we might have been otherwise. You must tell me what you remember of every soul in Killairic as well as what you know of your neighbors. I will watch and listen, and we will identify the threat together.”

  He smiled down at her. “Are you truly fearless?”

  “Nay, but I refuse to sit and wait for some dire fate. I would hunt it, kill it if need be. I would act to ensure the safety of those I hold in esteem and to defend my home.”

  “Will Killairic be your home?”

  “Aye, for I will make it so.” Her words were more fiercely uttered than she intended, but Fergus did not take offense.

  Indeed, he took a breath and hugged her tightly against his side. “And perhaps this is why, that day in the stables of the Temple, when I heard you and Bartholomew, I knew that I should offer you protection.”

  “You did?”

  He nodded without hesitation. “I could see you here, in my father’s garden.” He met her gaze. “I do not know what lies ahead in much detail, Leila, but I hope you do not regret your choice to ride with us, much less to handfast with me.”

  “I do not. And I will not.” She tightened her embrace, pressing herself against his heat. “Now, come, and do your part to see that blue-eyed boy come to light.”

  He smiled and kissed the top of her head, as if she were a child. “Not yet,” he said quietly. “I must prepare for the morning.” He went then to his weapons and his garb, choosing what he would wear and what he would take.

  Leila bit her lip as she watched him. She sensed that he made an excuse. She wondered if he thought of Isobel, tall and fair as she was not. While she respected that he had not brought that woman to their bed the first time they coupled, she already came to resent the hold Isobel had over his heart and thoughts. Leila could not imagine that the woman was worthy of him.

  If she had been, she would not have wed Stewart.

  Even Calum had said as much.

  Leila knew she should be patient, but it was not her inclination. She liked to see matters set to rights, instead of letting them fester.

  It seemed she would learn a new skill in this match.

  She thought of telling Fergus that she felt dread at his scheme to visit Isobel a
nd her husband, but feared he might interpret that as jealousy.

  It was not her place to say more than she already had. Fergus had been good to her, better than he had reason to be, and Leila was not one to ignore her good fortune.

  Much less to place it in peril.

  She said nothing and returned to the bed, glad to step onto the rugs from the cold floor. She drew the curtains around the bed on three sides, then stirred the coals in the brazier before climbing on to the mattress.

  “Let me come with you,” she said when it seemed Fergus took overlong with his preparations. “I would like to see more of Scotland.”

  “I expect you would like to see Isobel,” he replied lightly.

  “You cannot blame me for being curious.” Leila was not going to tell him that she was more curious about his reaction to the sight of Isobel than any detail about his former betrothed. “Stewart might take more kindly to your visit if you brought your wife.”

  “I understand and appreciate that, but you have only just arrived at Killairic.” He cast her a bright glance. “Perhaps your caution is deserved and I should have someone I trust remain here,” he whispered and looked at the door of the treasury before meeting her gaze again.

  Leila nodded understanding, pleased that he trusted her with this responsibility, and dared to make her suggestion. “Then take Hamish with you.” When he would have argued, she raised her hand. “I will manage with gestures for a day, and you should not ride alone until the shadow you discern has vanished.” She smiled at him and shook a warning finger, hoping to convince him. “If you disregard the warnings of your angel, he or she may cease to keep you safe. They are willful in that way, to my understanding.”

  “Fair enough,” Fergus said and sat down to hone his blade. “Perhaps Enguerrand might be of assistance to you tomorrow.”

  Leila nodded agreement. “Perhaps he might. His Gaelic seems to be quite good, and Yvan can remain in the hall with your father, watching the stairs.”