“A gift?”Stewart asked, arching a brow.He turned to his sentries.“The returning crusader brings a gift for my lady wife.Do you think he is still smitten with her charms?Do you think he means to steal her away from me?”
The guards chuckled.
Fergus did not.He wished Leila and Duncan’s suspicions had not been proven so very right.
“A gift,” he reiterated, unlashing the small trunk from his saddle.His tone had hardened.“When I bought it, I believed Isobel to be my betrothed, waiting upon my return.I see no reason why she should not have it, even though my belief was mistaken.”
“Such generosity should not go unrewarded,” Stewart said, accepting the small chest from him.He seemed to heft its weight.“Dare I hope it is filled with gems?”
Fergus smiled tightly.“It is not.”
The other man tucked the trunk under his arm and held Fergus’ gaze, seemingly inviting him to leave with all haste.
Fergus held his ground.“I understand that you and Isobel have a son already,” he said.“I would congratulate you, belatedly, of course.”
“I thank you.”Stewart smiled.
“And her father?How does Erik fare?”
“Dead these three years, I fear.”Fergus crossed himself at Stewart’s admission.“A better man was never found.”
“I suppose he saw your merit, in putting his daughter’s hand in yours.”
Stewart smiled.“I suppose he did.He saw his grandson born, at least.”He stepped back.“I wish you Godspeed, of course.”He gestured to the sky.“I hope the rain does not turn to snow before you reach home.It is possible, though, given the chill in the air.It would be best for you to ride out immediately.”
Fergus ground his teeth, but would not give Stewart the satisfaction of reacting poorly.“You might offer me felicitations as well,” he said before climbing into the saddle again.
“For returning alive against all expectation?”
“For my own handfast.I am a married man, as well.”Fergus ignored Stewart’s obvious interest and nodded to the boy.“Are you the brother of Agnes?Name of Nolan?”
“I am, sir,” the boy said, bowing to him.
“Agnes asked that I deliver a message to you, that she regrets you were not together at the Yule and hopes to see you soon.”
Did Fergus imagine the quick glance that fired between Nolan and Stewart?Could this message mean more to them than to him?
Nonsense.It was no more than two peasants sending word to each other by whatever means were available.
“I thank you, sir.I hope she is well.”
“She does fare well.”Fergus met Stewart’s gaze steadily.“She is now maid to my lady wife.”
Stewart looked skeptical.“Is it true that you are wed?To whom?And when?”
“I pledged a handfast yesterday upon my return to Killairic.”Fergus granted Stewart a thin smile.“It is to be hoped that we will both have similar happiness in our matches.”
“But who did you marry?”Stewart demanded, seizing Tempest’s reins.“What alliance did you make?”
“None.She is a lady who journeyed in our party from Jerusalem.”
Stewart laughed and stepped back again.“A whore, then?With the loss of your betrothed, you wed your whore!”His mirth seemed to overcome him and he slapped his thighs as he laughed even louder.
Fergus dismounted and closed the distance between them, seizing Stewart by his hauberk and lifting that man to his toes.“My wife is no whore,” he said in a low growl.“And a clever man would not be so foolish as to suggest as much twice.Were you not always said to be clever, Stewart?”
“Perhaps more clever than you,” Stewart muttered.
“Perhaps not,” Fergus countered.“Perhaps one battle too many has cost you your wits.”
