Medieval 02 - Forbidden

time.”
    Whatever Duncan might have said in answer was lost in the husky cry he gave as Amber slid down over him, taking all of him in a slow, caressing glide.
    Before the taking was half complete, Amber came undone. Her shivering flesh and rippling cries undid Duncan. Even as she took him fully, he gave himself to her in a succession of deep pulses that left him shaking.
    And then it began all over again.
    The tempting and the teasing, the intimate caresses and the sweet torment. Whispered words and touches that made Duncan jerk with pleasure. Unexpected kisses, love bites that stung and pleasured at once.
    While candles guttered and flames winked out, Amber burned on undimmed, pouring herself into Duncan as surely as he poured himself into her, burning with her because he could do no less, consuming her as certainly as he was himself being consumed.
    A whispered plea, a vow given back, and Duncan’s hands were at last free to touch, his mouth to kiss, his body to sink deeply into the wildness that was Amber burning. She drank his passion and gave it back to him redoubled, driving both of them higher and higher, speaking to him in wild silence, describing a love that could not be put into words, expressing an unspeakable need.
    Let me reach into you as you have reached into me .
    Then rich life might grow .
    When finally nothing was left undone, when both were so spent they slid from shattering ecstasy into sleep in the space of a breath, still Amber clung to Duncan, wanting to share her dreams as deeply as she had shared the rest of herself.
    Let me touch your soul .
    Just once .
    But it was Duncan’s dreams that were shared, bleak turmoil redoubled rather than relieved by Amber’s wild giving and taking of self.
    Soon Amber awakened, dragged into awareness by the conflict raging through Duncan’s soul. When she realized what had been gambled and what had been lost, cold seeped through her.
    The last part of the prophecy had been fulfilled.
    Yet Duncan was farther from her than ever, locked in battle with himself. His word had been given.
    It had not been given to her.
    Yet he was part of her.
    Darkness gathering, drop by drop, breath by breath, one soul given, one soul locked away. Untouched.
    Cassandra is wrong. His soul won’t wither, for he does not love me .
    Slowly Amber drew away from Duncan and slid from the bed, unable to bear the agony of touching him any longer. With hands that trembled, she removed her amber pendant and placed it acrossthe coiled metal of the war hammer that had given Duncan his name. She reached out to him one last time, but did not touch him.
    “God be with you, dark warrior,” Amber whispered, “for I cannot be.”
     
    M EG looked across the table at her husband. Their cold breakfast of bread, meat, and ale lay largely ignored on the trestle table in the great hall. Dominic was leaning back in his chair, eyes narrowed. The fingers of his right hand drummed softly on his thigh in time to the haunting tune Ariane was playing on a lap harp.
    Simon carved another slice of venison, poured some ale into a dainty goblet, and set both in front of Ariane.
    “Leave off making the harp weep and eat,” he said tersely.
    “Again? I feel like a goose being fattened for a feast,” she muttered.
    But Ariane set aside the harp and began to eat. It was easier than arguing with Simon when he had that determined look in his eyes.
    “Have you dreamed, Meg?” Dominic asked abruptly.
    “Yes.”
    “Glendruid dreams?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    The fact that Meg said no more told Dominic that the dreams had been unhappy…and that they had offered no solutions. The backs of his fingers stroked her cheek.
    “Small falcon,” he said in a low voice, “I must find a way to give Blackthorne peace. I want our child to be born into a time and a place not torn apart by war.”
    Meg kissed Dominic’s palm and watched him with eyes made luminous by love.
    “Come what will, Glendruid Wolf,” she whispered, “I will never regret bearing your child.”
    Ignoring the others in the room, Dominic lifted Meg into his lap. Golden bells braided into her hair shivered and chimed. He held her close, whispering his love.
    After a time, the haunting cry of the harp resumed, beautiful music describing all the shades of sadness.
    “What a cheerful gathering,” Erik mocked as he entered the great hall, his peregrine on his wrist. “Do you play often for funerals, Lady Ariane?”
    “That is one of her