Perhaps they were a delicacy often eaten in the east.Fergus remembered seeing them for sale in the souks, but not ever having tasted one.Of course, if they were an indulgence, they would not have been served at the Temple, where austerity was the rule.
“And a means of keeping them,” she added.
“A cage?”Fergus suggested.
Her smile turned mischievous.“They will breed, and quickly, Fergus.A cage will not contain their numbers for long.”
He thought about the garden and nodded.“Perhaps it is time we added a dovecote to the garden.”
Leila’s features lit with delight.“That would be a most welcome gift, indeed.”
“Then it shall be done.”Fergus turned to the others and switched to Gaelic, discovering quickly that there were often pigeons for sale in Carlisle, and that a man who knew best how to build a dovecote could be found in Dumfries.He made sure it was understood that this was to be Leila’s wedding gift, then divided his father’s keys.The key to the solar, he put in his purse, but the smaller one he kept in his hand, the lace hanging from it.
“Before I depart for Dunnisbrae, let us see the valuables secured,” he said to Leila.“When I return, I will have the silversmith copy the keys so that both you and I shall have a set.”
“No more copies than that, though,” Leila said darkly.
Fergus nodded agreement, knowing that she was thinking of Châmont-sur-Maine and the plentitude of keys to the solar there.He unlocked the treasury and glanced inside it, noting the small chest where his father had always kept his coin and the second larger one that contained deeds and legal documents.He fetched his trunk that had gems within it and placed it in the small chamber.Leila was placing the saddlebag in the treasury when someone rapped on the door to the solar.It proved to be Iain.
Fergus locked the door once the treasure was secured, then gave the key to Leila, still on its cord.She put it around her neck and dropped the key into her chemise, just as his father had done, but this time, Fergus watched the path with greater interest.
When Leila smiled, he realized what he had done and cleared his throat.“I will ask Iain how soon we can arrange for your gift,” he said, then turned to find a young girl waiting on the threshold.She was young and would be considered pretty, but he had no interest himself in her charms.
She curtsied.“I am Agnes, my lord, sent to be maid to your lady.”
Fergus introduced the pair and left Leila to manage Agnes.
As he left the solar, he was thinking of golden skin and dark eyes, of a mysterious smile and woman both finely built and strong.He was thinking of good sense and loyalty, and the merit of having a partner whose word could be relied upon.
And Fergus was thinking, with far more anticipation than he might have expected an hour before, of his wedding night ahead.
Agnes was no fool.
Every soul she knew commented upon her ability to see the truth of a situation—and her gift for calculating how best to use that information to her own advantage.She had been likened to a cat in many places, given her talent for landing upon her feet.Agnes knew it was less about the landing than in assessing when to jump.
She made good choices.Going to Stewart MacEwan had been a good choice, for her brother had found labor there.Accepting Laird Stewart’s request that she go to Killairic and await the return of Fergus had been a good one, too.Laird Stewart wanted to know when the son of Killairic returned home, which was only reasonable, in Agnes’ view, given that his wife had been betrothed to Laird Fergus first.
The old Laird of Killairic liked her, which meant she gained special favors.Those in the village were foolish in their trust, a trait that Agnes hoped to use to advantage when necessary.Stephen, the ostler, was a competent lover but more importantly, a collector of gossip and rumor.People confided in him, which gave Agnes fodder to gather in anticipation of a generous reward—from the right laird at the right time.
It served Stephen as well as Agnes to have no one know what they did together in the stables at night, which was another advantage.His unhappy marriage, in truth, was why Agnes had chosen him.She had learned young that men wedded to shrews were the most discreet lovers and often the best trained ones.
On the day of Laird Fergus’ return, though, Agnes was stymied by her choices.
Of course, she owed a report to Laird Stewart of the return of the son of Killairic.Old debts should be paid first.
But then, there was the question of how to proceed to see her own advantage best served.
At first, Agnes thought it might be beneficial to charm one of the Templar knights.To be sure, both were tall and handsome, with dark hair and dark eyes.Their manner was stern, but Agnes had been certain she could tempt at least one of them to smile—if not more.Perhaps her destiny was in London or even Paris, larger cities with greater opportunities for the ambitious—and even access to royal courts.Her first effort, though, earned her a stare from one that was cold enough to freeze her marrow and disdainful, too.
As if she was a mere whore.
She would not sully herself with a man who did not appreciate her.
The village priest then told her that the Templars were sworn to poverty, chastity, and obedience, like other monks.Agnes had not realized that detail, since Fergus had joined their ranks.Apparently, there were distinctions between those who joined for a specific term of service and those who joined for life, as well as between lay brothers and knights, but Agnes was quickly bored with the details.
She had more interest in her own fate.
Agnes did not know any of the returning party, for she had not been at Killairic before their departure.She recognized this Duncan by his friendship with Murdoch.They were of a kind, to be sure.Duncan would be honorable and feel compelled to report any misdeed he witnessed, just like Murdoch.It was best for Agnes to avoid them both.
