The Crusader's Handfast Read online

  “Will that be the sum of your celebration?”

  “Nay, I would seduce you afterward.” She grinned. “Or perhaps you will seduce me.” Again, she placed a hand upon his chest and leaned closer. “Would you rather forgo the dance?” she whispered wickedly. “I would surrender to you, Duncan. Indeed, I would learn what it is that made Christina shout with such vigor, and I wager you are a man who knows.”

  The suggestion so aroused Duncan that he felt less coherent than was his wont. “Your alemaker…” he began to protest, for he believed he should.

  “May need instruction or encouragement.” Radegunde was dismissive. “Show me what I might well be missing, Duncan.”

  “But…”

  “No one will know. I will not tell, and I will feign innocence on the night in question.”

  “Radegunde!”

  She laughed at his surprise. “My groom will not be innocent. What is sauce for the goose should be sauce for the gander.”

  Duncan turned away. “I will not do as much. No man of honor would…”

  “Then take me to dance, Duncan. I beg it of you.”

  Duncan should have denied her and he knew it, but when Radegunde eyed him as if he were the finest man in all of Christendom, he could not deny her such a simple request.

  After all, it seemed a reasonable compromise and was a far more prudent choice than ravishing her abed—though that notion did have an unholy appeal. He could also understand her urge to celebrate her part in their victory this day. The aftermath of success was a time for jubilation, not for a meek retirement to bed.

  Aye, he had come to the inn because he felt a similar restlessness.

  Dancing might be the best solution.

  “You shall tell no one,” Duncan insisted gruffly, but she laughed with such delight that he found himself smiling instead of being stern. “You shall do as I instruct you, lest there be more trouble, and we will only go to the local tavern…” he continued but Radegunde flung herself into his arms and kissed him to silence again.

  Zounds, but the woman learned the art of seduction with astonishing speed. Her enthusiasm was nigh overwhelming, and Duncan found it beyond difficult to hold on to his senses and put distance between them again.

  “I thank you, Duncan,” she declared when she had made his blood sing. “I will never forget this, I promise you.”

  “There will be naught to recall if you do not follow instruction. I must ensure that you return hale to your mistress, and this is a city filled with vice.”

  “Aye, Duncan.”

  She was biddable now that she had won her way, so pleased that he could not forget the temptation of her other offer. The sooner they were in a tavern and surrounded by strangers, the better. Duncan led her to stables to tell Bartholomew of their plans. He had to ensure that the younger man would admit them to the courtyard upon their return, and Bartholomew readily agreed to do as much.

  When they left the inn, Radegunde brimming with anticipation beside him, Duncan knew that he would never forget this night either.

  Much less the maid who made him feel impulsive once again.

  * * *

  One night!

  Duncan’s hand was rough and warm around Radegunde’s own and her heart was racing with delight. She had convinced him! And though he was protective of her, there was much in his kiss that made her hope she might persuade him to do more than dance with her.

  Aye, she had not abandoned her other hope. To be seduced by Duncan would be a marvel indeed, she was certain of it, and a deed well worth the sacrifice of her maidenhead. Would she manage to convince him? She certainly meant to try.

  Radegunde was glad she still wore her lady’s old boots, for the streets were muddy enough to recall her mother’s comments upon the mire of Paris. The small path outside the inn was dirt, and she was glad when they reached the wider avenue that led to the Temple. It was in the midst of being paved with stones and was much cleaner for that.

  Her kirtle was faded after their journey to the east, and she reasoned she would not appear to be a rich target. Still, Duncan shed his cloak and cast it over her shoulders before they reached the wider street, perhaps to ensure that she did not offer temptation to another man. She inhaled deeply, for the cloak carried the welcome scent of his skin, and felt that she embarked on a forbidden adventure.

  He still wore his mail hauberk and the dark tabard he had worn since she had met him. It bore no insignia, though the scabbards on his belt told all that anyone needed to know. His gloves were shoved into his belt, and he also wore boots. He strode back toward the Temple with purpose, and Radegunde was glad to be tall enough to be able to match his pace.

  “The street of the jongleurs is ahead,” he told her. “I noticed that there was a tavern on the corner and heard music playing.”

  Radegunde knew she had to make each moment in Duncan’s company count. She wanted to know all about him, for she knew she would think about him—and this night—always.

  “Tell me a secret, Duncan,” she invited and he glanced her way with obvious surprise.

  “A secret?”

  Radegunde knew well enough that Duncan was not quick with confessions, and that he liked to keep whatever he knew to himself. “Aye, something only you know,” she insisted. “Share it with me.”

  Duncan shook his head. “There are few things known by only one person, lass. I wonder whether there truly are any at all.”

  Radegunde doubted that was the case, when the person in question was Duncan, but she recognized the futility of pressing him. “Then confide in me something few people know.”

  He pursed his lips, considering this. “Will this be a fair exchange?”

  “Of course. Naught less will do.”

  Duncan nodded and she wondered what he would admit. “You are wrong that Bartholomew prefers boys.” He raised a finger when she would have argued. “Because Laurent is truly a girl named Leila.”

  Radegunde laughed aloud, and she saw immediately that her companion was pleased to have surprised her. “Truly?” At Duncan’s nod, she laughed again. “Am I the last to know that secret?”

  His smile was quick. “You are not the first, to be sure.”

  “When did you know?”

  He shrugged. “In Jerusalem, before she joined our party.”

  Radegunde was fascinated. “Why did she join our party? She looks as if she might be Saracen.”

  “She is, by my understanding. A marriage had been arranged for her, and she did not wish to wed the man in question. She begged Bartholomew to let her accompany the party. He said he could not, but my lord Fergus overheard and intervened.”

  Radegunde exhaled in astonishment. She had never heard Duncan utter so many words in succession, and she marveled at her own ability to draw secrets from him.

  Yet she could not fail to note that he did not share his own secret.

  She realized that Duncan awaited her reaction. “I wish I had known. I should have talked to her more.”

  “I think she is wary of friendship.”

  “Her French is very good.”

  “Aye, by my understanding, she has aided Bartholomew at the stables of the Jerusalem Temple for some time. She is said to have a gift with horses.”

  “And does she?”

  He slanted her a look. “Aye, she does. I was much impressed with her insight when we bought that palfrey in Venice. I know something of steeds myself, but she espied a weakness in the one I favored, and a weakness that might have cost us dearly.”

  Radegunde was intrigued. “How so?”

  Duncan explained. “The steed would not have been able to make that run to the pass at such speed. If we had been compelled to abandon it, the coin would have been lost and the other steeds more heavily burdened.”

  “Which would have slowed our pace even more.”

  He eyed her anew. “You are smiling. What is amusing in this tale?”

  “Naught. I simply admire that you would take counsel from a
girl.”

  “I will take counsel from any soul who knows more of a matter than I do.”

  “And I admire that, as well.” Radegunde gave his fingers a squeeze, liking how he caught his breath. She eased closer, ensuring that her breast was pressed against his arm, and noted the glitter in his eyes. Aye, Duncan was as aware of her as she was of him, and Radegunde found new promise in her hope of adventure beyond a night of dancing in Paris. “When did you first see the treasure?” she asked.

  “Is that not another secret?”

  “Nay, for I know you must have looked upon it.”

  He granted her a skeptical glance but she smiled and he complied with her request. “In Jerusalem, of course. I looked before we departed, when we were waiting upon Gaston.”

  “Because you were curious?”

  Duncan’s expression was quelling. “Because I will know why I risk my life, the better to resolve how vigorous my defense of any such entrusted baggage will be.”

  Radegunde nodded agreement. “I looked in Venice for the same reason, when we traded the bundles.”

  “That was clever,” Duncan acknowledged. “None knew you had done it.”

  “I know!” She laughed up at him. “Not even you, the most observant of all the company.”

  “Not even me,” he acknowledged ruefully.

  Radegunde bit her lip, for she guessed the reason for that. Duncan had been openly interested in Christina, the courtesan, and she had joined their party at nigh the same time that Radegunde and Ysmaine had taken the reliquary. She was not certain whether she should mention as much, for she feared the conversation would falter.

  But Duncan continued. “And disguising the reliquary as your lady’s ripened belly was even more clever.” He shook his head. “Truly, we should have entrusted the parcel to you both from the outset.”

  Radegunde smiled at his praise. “But now it is safe, and the adventure is over.”

  “The quest is fulfilled,” Duncan corrected quietly. “The adventure continues so long as you draw breath.”

  Radegunde chose not to argue about that. “Do you think Christina is safe?”

  Duncan considered this. “I believe that Wulfe would do all in his power to ensure as much, and he is a formidable fighter.”

  It was not an absolute answer, but Radegunde supposed there could not be one. Emboldened by Duncan speaking so much to her, she dared to ask what she truly wished to know. “I thought you admired her most of all. Was that why you missed my exchange of the parcel?”

  He spared her a hot glance, then hid his thoughts again. “And when am I to have a secret in exchange?” he asked lightly.

  Radegunde was not truly surprised that he changed the subject. “It shall have to be a short one, as we are nigh there.”

  “You could owe me a boon.”

  Radegunde stretched up to whisper in his ear, endeavoring to be as bold as a courtesan. “If I owe you a boon, Duncan MacDonald, it will not be merely a secret.”

  Again, his gaze brightened. “A secret will suffice,” he insisted, but his voice was more husky than it had been. She watched him swallow and noted how his gaze swept over her. She dared to hope she might succeed in tempting him.

  Still she shook a playful finger at him. “Better, I will confide a secret about myself, rather than hiding behind the confidences of others.”

  “Indeed?” Duncan seemed to be biting back a smile.

  Radegunde knew precisely how to surprise him. “Aye, and here it is. My lord Gaston is the first man I have seen fully naked.”

  Duncan blinked in his surprise, then looked down at her.

  Radegunde felt her lips quirk. “And he has very fine…legs.”

  Duncan coughed, though she knew he did as much to disguise his laughter. “And what would you know about a man having fine legs?”

  “Oh, my mother admires men with fine legs, or so she has always insisted. At Valeroy, there are Scottish mercenaries in the employ of the lord. They wear lengths of plaid wool wrapped around their hips with one end cast over the shoulder, as well as boots and jerkins. They oft have long hair and beards, but it is their legs my mother professes to find most alluring. I confess that her affection has passed to me.”

  Duncan chuckled a little at this. “And your father?”

  “He had fine legs, as well, according to my mother. She says she let him bed her to be able to twine her legs with his at night.”

  Duncan coughed again. “And what does your father say of this?”

  Radegunde winced, for this wound was one that did not readily heal. “He is dead,” she said flatly, wishing she were more adept at changing the subject.

  Duncan turned to consider her, then, sympathy in his eyes. She knew that he had discerned the heat in her reaction. “I am sorry, Radegunde.”

  As much as she welcomed his compassion, Radegunde did not wish to dwell upon this loss. “I thank you, but it does not matter,” she said quickly. “I have four brothers and we had no need of another man in our abode.”

  Duncan frowned, and she wondered whether her words had been too harsh.

  There was an awkward silence between them. Radegunde feared that her confession had destroyed the amiability of their evening thus far. Indeed, she should have studied the arts of Christina more closely, for she made an uncommon muddle of this conversation!

  To her relief, she had a sudden thought and turned upon Duncan. “But wait. You are a Scotsman, are you not?”

  “Aye, I am, and some would say a mercenary as well.” He spoke with undisguised pride.

  Radegunde propped a hand upon her hip. “Then where is your plaid?”

  “In my baggage. I thought it prudent to look more as other men when we journeyed south. There are those who dislike my kinsmen.”

  Radegunde feigned disappointment. “I suppose it is too much, then, to hope that I might have a glimpse of your legs.”

  Duncan chuckled. “To determine whether they are sufficiently fine or not? You are a bold lass, to be sure,” he charged but his tone was teasing. “I should not encourage you in such thinking, lest your mother have words for me.”

  “You will never meet her.”

  “Is she dead?”

  Radegunde shook her head.

  “Then you might be surprised, lass.”

  Before she could ask what he meant, Duncan drew her into the crowd gathered outside the tavern that had been their destination. Music spilled into the street along with laughter and she heard the pounding feet of the dancers inside. Her own feet itched. “Now, what shall it be? A cup of wine? A juggler’s feat? Or a minstrel’s tale?”

  “A dance,” Radegunde said firmly. “And then perhaps a cup of wine.”

  “One cup of wine is all you will have.”

  “You need not fear for my becoming drunk,” Radegunde chided. “It will surely be thinned beyond belief.”

  “There is that,” he muttered.

  She considered the merrymakers on either side, her excitement rising as they entered the tavern. More than one man gave her a thorough perusal, and Radegunde’s hand dropped to her knife again. She was prepared to defend her honor.

  But Duncan locked his arm around her and drew her against his side in an embrace that appeared affectionate. Radegunde found it thrilling. “Remember that I have claimed you for this night,” he murmured and his words made her blood heat. “It will be safer thus.”

  “Aye,” Radegunde agreed and granted him a warm smile. His choice might ensure that she had her other wish this night. Indeed, that might be the reason for his suggestion. Could their thoughts be as one? Radegunde dared to hope as much.

  She spun in his arms and noted his surprise with a smile. “The illusion must be well maintained,” she murmured, then kissed his throat. She could feel his pulse leap beneath her lips.

  “Temptress,” Duncan whispered, his voice deliciously husky. “You know not what you do.”

  “On the contrary, I am the daughter of a wise woman,” Radegunde retor
ted. “I know precisely what I do, Duncan.” She pulled back to consider him. “The sole remaining question is what will you do?” She brushed her lips across his once more and was gratified to feel him catch his breath.

  Then he slanted his mouth over hers, his kiss so demanding and possessive that it offered all the adventure Radegunde could want.

  And more.

  When he lifted his head, the company hollered and stamped in their approval. Radegunde saw only the green glitter of Duncan’s eyes and felt the hard wall of his chest against her breasts. His arm was locked around her waist and he smiled down at her. “I have told you already, lass,” he murmured for her ears alone. “I will dance with you, and no more.”

  Radegunde smiled, not nearly convinced that dancing would be the sum of all they did this night.

  Tuesday, August 25, 1187

  Feast Day of Saint Ebba and of the martyr Saint Eusebius of Rome

  Chapter Three

  It was unlike Duncan to forget himself, just as it was unlike him to simply enjoy an evening with a pretty woman. The years in Palestine had been filled with challenge, hard labor, and the company of men much like himself. He saw only now that the burden of watching over Fergus had been heavier than he had realized.

  How long had it been since he danced and sang? How long had it been since he flirted with a maiden as lively as Radegunde? On this night, Duncan felt free and unfettered, and the change was most welcome.

  A part of that was certainly the influence of his joyous companion. Radegunde had a zest for life that made him more merry than was his wont, and her beauty was of the kind he appreciated best. Her loveliness came from a good heart, and a nature that gave her a welcome vitality. She was no fool, though, for he saw that she took note of every man with a dangerous gleam in his eye and was always aware of those immediately around her. Her hand dropped oft to her knife, and he knew she could defend herself if need be.