Medieval 02 - Forbidden

later, she looked up and froze. A frisson of awareness shot through her.
    Someone was in the room with her, standing just beyond the the wooden screens. Watching her.
    Duncan.
    She was certain of it.
    “Yes, lord?” Amber asked.
    Despite her best efforts at calm, her voice wasn’t steady. Her heart was beating far too rapidly with the knowledge that Duncan was so close.
    For the space of several breaths, no answer came. Rage and desire fought for control of Duncan. Every breath he took was infused with the scent of evergreen and spice. The silence shivered with the tiny sounds of water gliding over skin. Each instant announced in a new way that Amber was nearby, fragrant, warm.
    Naked.
    The hammer blow of desire that went through Duncan made him sway.
    “Cassandra has asked after you,” he said finally.
    But Duncan’s voice said much more, husky and heavy, telling of blood racing hotly, flesh hardening, a body yearning to be completed. He could not have told Amber of his desire more clearly if he had touched her.
    His mind might be closed like a fist against her, but his body wasn’t.
    Amber made a soft sound as her own body softened in a heated rush. She prayed that Duncan hadn’t heard the telltale break and thickening of her breath.
    And she prayed that he had.
    The same instinct that had told Amber about Duncan in that first single touch had been whispering relentlessly to her since he had looked at her and seen his betrayer rather than his lover.
    Instinct and gift combined told Amber that she must somehow get past Duncan’s rage before it destroyed both of them, and the people of Stone Ring Keep as well. If desire was the only way to reach him…
    Then let it burn .
    “Tell Cassandra I am bathing,” Amber said huskily.
    Deliberately she shifted in the tub so that her profile rather than her back was to the screens. Slowly, gracefully, she trickled fragrant water over her shoulders and breasts. Crystal drops ran down the shadow cleft between her breasts and gathered in glittering crowns on nipples that had tightened simply at the sound of Duncan’s voice.
    Amber heard Duncan draw in his breath. As she had hoped, he was watching her through the space where the screens didn’t completely meet. She wished she could see him as well as he was seeing her.
    And as naked.
    “You don’t usually bathe at this time of day,” Duncan said.
    Like Amber’s voice, Duncan’s said more than his words.
    She shrugged, sending intriguing patterns of light, shadow, and moisture over her breasts.
    “I’m not usually held prisoner,” Amber said.
    She lifted her arms and reached behind her head to tuck up stray strands of her hair. Her breasts swayed gently. The nipples gathered into even higher crowns. Silhouetted against the fire, she appeared to be licked by amorous flames.
    With a throttled sound, Duncan forced himself to look away. The first thing he saw was the dinner that had been brought hours before to Amber’s room. Little had been touched. Less had been eaten.
    “Is something wrong with your food?” he asked roughly.
    “No.”
    “You must eat more,” he said.
    “Why? It takes little strength to be a prisoner.”
    The calm question infuriated Duncan. He had no answer save that the thought of her fasting when there was no religious need disturbed him.
    Abruptly Duncan turned and headed for the door. This time he made no attempt to be silent. The clink and rub of chain-mail hauberk and hood, chausses, gauntlets, and sword announced that the lord of the keep was prepared for battle.
    But he hadn’t been prepared to find his enemy naked.
    “Finish your bath,” Duncan said in a harsh voice. “Be quick about it. If you aren’t in the great hall before I become impatient, I’ll send a scullery wench in to dress you and drag you forth.”
    The door to the room shut with emphasis, announcing that Duncan had left.
    Anger and disappointment swept through Amber, but she wasn’t foolish enough to test her husband’s temper by dragging her feet. Whether Duncan knew it or not, she would rather have been whipped than forced to endure being touched by all but three people in the world.
    Cassandra was one of them. Erik was another. The third had just left in a fury.
    It was a very short time before Amber appeared in the solar, wearing a gown the color of highland pines. Against the dark green of her gown, the ancient amber pendant glowed as though on fire. Her hair was a loose, flowing cloud held back from