“Is that such a terrible thing?” she asked painfully. “Should I be ashamed that I have finally found what every other woman takes for granted?”
“Lust,” Erik said bluntly.
“Nay! The profound pleasure of touching someone and not feeling pain.”
Shocked, Duncan looked at Amber. He started to ask what she meant, but she was talking again, her words urgent, driven by the tension that vibrated through her.
“Passion is part of it,” Amber said. “But only part. There is peace as well. There is laughter. There is…joy.”
“There is also prophecy,” Erik shot back. “Do you remember it?”
“Better than you. I remember that prophecy said he might claim rather than he will.”
“What are you talking about?” Duncan demanded.
“A woman’s heart and body and soul,” Erik said. “And the catastrophe that will—”
“Might,” amber interrupted fiercely.
“—come if she is foolish enough to give all three to a man with no name,” Erik finished coldly.
“You make no sense,” Duncan said.
Erik’s smile was as savage as the yellow of his eyes.
“Have you remembered anything more of your past?” he asked Duncan bluntly.
“Nothing useful.”
“Are you the best judge of that? You who have neither memory nor name?”
Duncan’s mouth thinned and he said nothing at all.
“God’s teeth,” Erik hissed.
For a time there was a taut silence.
“What have you remembered, useful or not?” Erik asked Duncan.
“You heard before I fought Simon.”
“Tell me again.”
“Green eyes,” Duncan said curtly. “A smile. The scent of spices and herbs. Hair the red of flames. A kiss and a wish for God to be with me.”
Erik glanced quickly at Amber, who was still standing close to Duncan.
Touching him.
“Ah, yes,” Erik said. “The Glendruid witch who cursed you.”
“Nay,” Duncan said instantly. “She didn’t curse me.”
“You sound very certain.”
“I am.”
“Amber?” Erik asked softly.
“He is telling you the truth.”
Duncan smiled slightly as he smoothed a wisp of Amber’s golden hair back from her face.
“’Tis sweet to be championed by you,” Duncan said, smiling down at Amber. “Your faith in my honesty is humbling.”
“What she has is more certain than faith,” Erik said flatly. “Scrying truth by touch is Amber’s gift.”
“And curse,” she whispered.
“What do you mean?” Duncan asked.
“Just what I said,” Erik retorted. “If I question a man while Amber touches him, the truth is clear to her no matter what lies he may speak aloud.”
Duncan’s eyes widened, then narrowed thoughtfully. “A useful gift.”
“It is a sword with two edges,” Amber said. “Touching people is…uncomfortable.”
“Why?”
“Why does the moon shine less brightly than the sun?” she asked bitterly. “Why is the oak mightier than the birch? Why do geese cry out the coming of winter?”
“Why are you distressed?” Duncan countered, his voice gentle.
Amber looked away from him to the hounds gathered with eyes of fire around Erik’s feet.
“Amber?” Duncan asked softly.
“I—I’m afraid you will be put off by my—by what I am.”
He caressed Amber’s cheek with the backs of his fingers, turning her face toward him again.
“I told you once that I had a penchant for witches,” Duncan said. “Especially beautiful ones. You’re touching me now. Have I told you true?”
Amber’s breath caught as she looked into the smoldering hazel of Duncan’s eyes.
“You believe what you are telling me,” she whispered.
Duncan’s smile made Amber’s heart turn over with joy. He saw the change in her expression and bent down to her without realizing what he was doing.
“Erik is right,” Duncan said. “You burn.”
Erik came to his feet in a surge that scattered hounds left and right.
“It’s a pity you don’t remember your past,” Erik said distinctly. “It will make life a foretaste of hell for Amber.”
“For Amber?” Duncan said. “How so?”
“Do you think she will enjoy being your leman rather than your wife?”
“She isn’t my leman.”
“God’s blood,” Erik exploded, “do you think I’m as big a fool as you?”
“Erik, don’t,” Amber said urgently.
“Don’t what? Tell the truth? Your dark warrior won’t marry you until he remembers his past, and he can’t keep his hands off you longer than it takes to swallow. You’ll be his whore before the first snow falls!”
Abruptly Duncan dropped his hands to his side.
Erik saw and laughed harshly.
“That’s fine for now,” he said in a scathing voice. “But the next time she offers herself, can you promise you won’t take what she is so willing to give?”
Duncan opened his mouth to promise, but knew before the first word was spoken that he would be forsworn. Amber was a fire in his flesh, in his blood, in his very bones.
“If take Amber’s maidenhead,” Duncan said tightly, “I will marry her.”
“With or without your memory?” Erik demanded.
“Aye.”
Erik sat back in his chair and smiled in the manner of a wolf that has just harried its prey into a trap.
“I will hold you to your vow,” Erik said softly.
Amber let out a long breath and relaxed for the first time since she had seen the feral blaze of Erik’s eyes.
Then Erik fixed his gaze on Amber and she wondered if perhaps she hadn’t relaxed too soon.
“This Glendruid witch…” Erik said musingly.
Breath held, Amber waited. She had wondered when Erik would connect Glendruid with Dominic le Sabre.
And what he would do when he did.
“Do we have one like her among the Learned of the Disputed Lands?” Erik asked.
With an effort, Amber managed not to show her relief.
“Like her?” she asked. “In what way?”
“Red hair. Green eyes. A woman whose gift would tell her to send Duncan out with an amber talisman around his neck.”
“I know of no one like that.”
“Nor does Cassandra,” Erik said.
“Then no such woman lives among the Learned of the Disputed Lands.”
Thoughtfully Erik tested the edge of the silver dagger with his thumb. The runes inscribed on the blade rippled with each motion as though alive, restless.
“Cassandra’s prophecy at your birth is well known in the Disputed Lands,” Erik said.
“Yes,” Amber said.
Duncan looked at her in silent question.
She didn’t glance away from Erik. For the moment, she was focused entirely on the golden knight who had pulled his Learning about him like a cloak of fire, giving him a power that transcended even his position as Lord Robert’s heir.
“Your affinity for amber is also well known,” Erik said.
Amber nodded.
“Glendruid’s gift is that their women see into a man’s soul,” he continued.
As Erik spoke, he looked at Duncan as though for confirmation.
“Aye,” said Duncan. “They are known for that very thing.”
“Indeed,” Erik murmured. “Where did you learn this?”
“’Tis well known.”
“Where you came from, perhaps. But not here.”
Erik’s dark gold glance flicked back to Amber.
“So tell me,” he said softly, “who among the Learned of the Disputed Lands has Glendruid’s gift of seeing into a man’s soul?”
“I do, in a small way.”
??
?Yes, but you didn’t give Duncan that amber talisman to wear, did you?”
“No,” Amber said softly.
“A Glendruid witch did,” Erik said, looking to Duncan again.
Duncan nodded his head.
Erik flipped the dagger casually, sending the silver blade end over end into the air, then catching the haft with a deft movement before sending the dagger into the air again.
Amber barely concealed a shiver. Like the sun after a winter ice storm, Erik burned.
Coldly.
“Where did you find this Glendruid witch you spoke of?” Erik asked Duncan.
“I don’t remember.”
“The Scots and Saxons are said to have a few such women,” Amber said quickly.
The knife spun with lazy grace before Erik plucked it out of the air with a speed that made Duncan blink.
“Simon,” Duncan said before thinking.
“What?” asked Erik.
“I believe you are as quick as Simon.”
Erik’s golden eyes became hooded. He slid the dagger into its sheath with careless skill.
“That won’t be put to the test,” he said softly. “Simon has left us.”
“But why?” asked Duncan, surprised.
“Simon told Alfred that he felt he must resume his quest. He left immediately.”
Absently Duncan rubbed his body, remembering Simon’s blow.
“Despite my aching ribs,” he said, “I liked the man.”
“Aye,” agreed Erik. “It was almost as though you knew one another.”
A chill went over Amber that had nothing to do with the drafts in the room.
“He looked familiar to me,” Duncan admitted.
“Is he?”
“If he is, I have no memory of it.”
“Amber.”
Though Erik said no more, Amber knew what he wanted. She laid her fingers on Duncan’s wrist.
“Was Simon known to you?” Erik asked Duncan.
Angrily, Duncan looked from Amber’s hand to Erik.
“You question my word?” Duncan asked savagely.
“I question your memory,” Erik answered. “An understandable precaution, surely?”
Duncan let out a long, hissing breath. “Aye. That is understandable.”
“And?” Erik prompted gently.
Amber winced. She knew Erik was at his most dangerous when he appeared most gentle.
“When I first saw Simon,” Duncan said, “I sensed danger like the shadow of a hawk.”
Swiftly Amber drew in her breath.
“In my mind I heard voices chanting and saw candles,” Duncan continued.
“Church?” Erik asked.
But it was Amber he asked, not Duncan.
“Yes,” she said. “It has the feel of church.”
“What else do you sense?” Erik asked curiously.
“Duncan’s memories stir, but not strongly enough to win free of the shades of darkness.”
“Interesting. What else?”
Amber glanced sideways at Duncan. He was watching her with an expression of growing disbelief.
“Think of the church, dark warrior,” she said.
The taut line of Duncan’s mouth was his only answer. Amber took in a ragged breath.
“I gather that whatever happened in the church was a special occasion rather than an ordinary mass,” she said faintly.
“Funeral? Wedding? Baptism?” Erik prodded.
Amber simply shook her head. “He doesn’t know.”
Duncan gave Amber a long look.
Subtle tension overtook her, drawing her mouth into a taut line.
“What is it?” Erik asked.
“Duncan resents me,” Amber said.
“Quite understandable,” Erik said in a dry voice. “I don’t hold it against him.”
“But he holds it against me. It is like grasping nettles,” Amber whispered. “May I release him?”
“Soon. Until then,” Erik said, switching his glance to Duncan, “you might consider that Amber is your best hope of piercing the darkness of your past.”
“How so?” Duncan asked coldly.
“I should think it would be obvious,” Erik retorted. “Apparently she can sense things in your thoughts that you miss.”
“Is that true?” Duncan asked Amber.
“With you, yes. With others, never.”
Duncan looked down at Amber. The unhappiness in her expression told him that she disliked the process of questioning him through touch as much as he did.
“Why am I different?” he asked. “Because I have no memory?”
“I don’t know. I know only that we’re joined in ways I don’t understand.”
For a long moment Duncan simply looked at Amber. Then his breath sighed out. He picked up her fingers and gave them a kiss. Holding her hand between his own, he began speaking softly.
“When I first saw Simon, I sensed danger, voices chanting, candles,” Duncan said. “Then I remembered the feel of a cold knife blade between my thighs.”
Amber made a shocked sound.
“Not a comfortable memory,” Erik said, smiling thinly.
“Aye.”
Duncan’s voice was as sardonic as Erik’s smile.
“Go on,” said Erik.
“There’s little more to it,” Duncan said, shrugging. “I remember a man watching me with eyes as dark as midnight in hell.”
“Simon,” Erik said.
“At first I thought so. But now…” Duncan sighed.
“Amber?” Erik asked.
“Why did you decide it wasn’t Simon?” she asked Duncan.
“Because he didn’t recognize me. If I had held a blade between a man’s thighs, I would certainly recognize him and know the reason for our enmity.”
Amber stiffened.
“What is it?” Erik asked softly.
“The church,” Amber said. “It was a wedding.”
“You’re certain?” Duncan and Erik asked as one.
“Aye. The feel of an embroidered shoe—” she began.
“In my hand! Yes!” Duncan interrupted triumphantly. “Her shoe was silver, as delicate as frost! I remember it!”
Tears stood in Amber’s eyes, then slipped soundlessly down her cheeks.
“Is there anything else, Amber?” Erik asked.
His voice was truly gentle this time, for he had seen her tears and guessed the reason why.
Abruptly Duncan realized that he was holding very tightly to Amber’s fingers.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
Amber shook her head but would not meet Duncan’s eyes. Long fingers tilted her face up to his with a strength that would not be denied.
“Precious Amber,” Duncan said. “Why do you cry?”
Her lips parted but no words came out. Her throat was too filled with tears for her to speak.
“Is it something in my memories you see that I don’t?” he asked.
Amber shook her head and tried to pull away from Duncan. His hands tightened, holding her.
“Is it—” he began.
“Leave off,” Erik interrupted curtly. “Release her from your touch. Let her find what peace she can.”
Duncan looked beyond Amber to the man whose eyes were like those of his wolfhounds, gleaming with reflected fire.
“What’s wrong?” Duncan demanded. “Is it a Learned matter? Is that why she won’t tell me?”
“Would that it were,” Erik muttered. “Learned matters respond to intelligence. Matters of the heart do not.”
“Talk sense!”
“’Tis quite simple,” Erik said. “You stood in church with a woman’s shoe in your hand.”
“What has that to do with Amber’s tears?” Duncan asked in exasperation.
“She has given her heart to a man who is already married. Surely that is cause for tears?”
At first Duncan didn’t understand. When he did, he gathered Amber into his arms and laughed. After an instant, so did she, sensing
the truth that Duncan had just discovered.
“I was giving the shoe to another man, not taking it from him,” Duncan said. “It was he who married the shoe’s owner, not I!”
The wolfhounds came to their feet, threw back their heads, and howled with an elemental triumph.
Duncan stared at the hounds, wondering what possessed them.
Amber stared at Erik, wondering why he felt a triumph so great that his hounds cried it to the night.
10
“YOU sent them alone to the sacred Stone Ring?” Cassandra asked, horrified.
“Yes,” Erik said. “Duncan wants to find his memory before he finds himself lying between Amber’s legs. I would rather the reverse were true.”
“You take too much upon yourself!”
“As you taught me,” Erik said softly, “without risk there is no gain.”
“This isn’t risk. This is madness!”
Erik turned away from Cassandra and looked out over Hidden Lake and its wild fens where myriad waterfowl glided and fed. A lid of clouds concealed the highest reaches of the fells. Below the clouds, the glen was tawny and black, evergreen and bronze, a painted bowl waiting to be filled with winter.
Though Erik couldn’t see the top of Stormhold, he knew that the high peak would soon be veiled with glittering snow. The geese and Cassandra had been right. Winter was bearing down on them, wearing a cloak of icy wind.
The peregrine on Erik’s wrist moved uneasily, disturbed by the currents of emotion seething beneath the man’s calm surface. Warily Cassandra eyed the falcon, knowing that only his wolfhounds were more sensitive to Erik’s emotions.
“This ‘madness,’ as you call it,” he said quietly, “is my best chance of keeping the southern estates until I can find more good knights to take service with me.”
“Your father has many other holdings,” Cassandra countered. “Tend them instead.”
“What are you suggesting, Learned? That I cede Stone Ring Keep to Dominic le Sabre without a battle?”
“Yes.”
The peregrine flared its wings and uttered a sharp cry.
“What of Sea Home?” Erik asked gently. “Shall I give that to the Norman bastard as well? And Winterlance?”
“There is no need. Stone Ring was the only keep mentioned by the English king—and agreed to by the Scottish king, I might add.”
“For the moment, yes.”
“The moment is all we have.”