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 memory. 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, wanting 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.

“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 and 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.”

Fergus was clearly pleased. “An excellent notion, Leila. I thank you for it.” He fell silent then, focusing on his task, and Leila would not pester him when he wished to think.

Even if he thought of beautiful Isobel.

She felt Fergus draw away from her, as surely as if he had left the solar. It was as if an invisible wall was being built between them, brick by brick. Would she lose him completely on the morrow? What if Isobel confessed that she wanted him still?

Leila wondered if he would return to her and Killairic, or if there would be some other reason—found by Isobel or by Fergus—for her new husband to linger at Dunnisbrae.

She was not one to sit by and wait for results. She preferred to shape events herself, and this situation reminded her of a story.

It might just be the perfect one.

Leila cleared her throat. “If you do not intend to sleep, perhaps I might tell you a tale.”

Fergus spared her a glance. “I thought your expertise was with horses.”

“But I like stories. My uncle liked to tell stories as he worked, at least when he was occupied with quieter tasks like those you attend on this night.”

A spark of curiosity lit in Fergus’ eyes. “What kind of stories did he tell?”

Leila smiled. “Stories like this one.” She sat up in the bed and hugged her knees to her chest, closing her eyes and hearing her uncle’s deep voice. She could see the dustmotes dancing in the sun in his smithy, smell the horses and hear them rustling in their feed. “Once upon a time, there were two brothers who were the sons of a king. They were both virtuous and handsome. When the father died, the older brother, Shahriar, became King of Persia in his father’s place. The younger brother, Shahzenan, became the King of Samarkand, one of his father’s other possessions. They parted with much affection when Shahzenan departed to take custody of his kingdom. Both brothers subsequently fell in love and married, each then having a beautiful and beloved queen.”

Fergus smiled but did not comment.

“After ten years had passed, both kingdoms were prosperous and at peace, and Shahriar wished to see his brother again. He sent his vizier to Samarkand to invite his brother to come home for a visit. Shahzenan was delighted by the arrival of his brother’s vizier and by the invitation. After greeting the vizier in his camp and sharing a meal, as well as news of Persia, Shahzenan agreed to accompany the vizier to Persia. Though he had planned to remain in the camp for the night, the prospect of his departure made him yearn for the queen’s company. He wanted to share as many moments as possible with her before his departure and so he returned to the palace, late that night, and went directly to her apartment. Although he thought to surprise her, Shahzenan was the one surprised: he found a male slave making love to his own wife.”

Fergus turned to look at her, but Leila continued, as if unaware that there were similarities between her tale and his situation with Isobel. “Shahzenan was outraged!” she said.

“I can imagine,” Fergus noted.

“Shahzenan had not even left for Persia and his wife betrayed his trust at the first opportunity. He was so angry at her faithlessness that he drew his blade and killed both wife and slave where they lay in her bed. Bitter and angry, he left the palace and stayed in the camp until the party rode out for Persia. He felt, in fact, so betrayed that he confided in no one. Shahzenan was filled with grief when he reached Persia, although the preparations his brother had made for his arrival lightened his heart. An entire wing had been added to Shahriar’s palace, just for him, with a view over his brother’s private pleasure garden. It was so beautiful and his brother’s warm greeting almost dismissed his disappointment in his wife. Shahriar knew his brother well and saw that something was wrong. He asked for the tale, but Shahzenan was aware of his brother’s happiness in marriage. He declined to share such a tale in his palace.”

Fergus nodded understanding.

“Shahriar thought to dissipate his brother’s sadness with revels,” Leila continued. “He arranged hunts and festivals, invited guests and ensured that every entertainment was available for Shahzenan. He did not fail to notice that his brother smiled and joined the festivities, but there was still a shadow over him. He believed his brother would confide in him in time, and he was right. For one day, Shahzenan declined to ride to the hunt and remained in his brother’s palace. The hunting party had not long departed when he looked out his window and saw a door open on the other side of the palace. The queen came into the garden with her ladies. There were twenty of them and Shahzenan thought they simply took their pleasure—but when the queen clapped her hands, they cast off their veils. He was astonished...” Leila yawned then and fell silent.

“Astonished by what?” Fergus asked when Leila did not continue. “What did he see?”

“I will have to tell you tomorrow,” she said, glad to see that the tale was working as she intended. She yawned again, not having to feign her exhaustion, then slid down beneath the covers and closed her eyes. It was warm and she was tired.

Fergus came to the side of the bed and clearly was not as sleepy as she. “But what happened?” he asked, his interest clear. “What did the queen and her attendants do?”

“I will continue the tale tomorrow night, after your return,” Leila said. “It is too long a tale for so late at night.” She yawned again. “We must have some sleep before the dawn.” She closed her eyes. “It seems that Agnes is not the sole one tired after this day.”

She felt Fergus sit on the side of the mattress. “But Leila, you cannot go to sleep yet. I am curious about the tale.”

“You will have to wait to find out,” she managed to murmur. She rolled over and burrowed into the warmth of the bed. Even as she dozed, she was aware of Fergus looking down at her and could sense his impatience. She could only hope that his desire for more of the tale would be sufficient to encourage him to return promptly and to join her abed the next night.

The scheme had worked for Scheherazade. Leila burrowed deeper in the bed, recalling Calum’s claim that she would need a man to keep her warm at night.

And Fergus saw her with a baby boy.

With blue eyes.

The prospect left Leila’s lips curved in a smile when sleep claimed her completely.