Medieval 02 - Forbidden

to him the simple truth.
    Amber shivered as Duncan’s thumb outlined the curve of her parted lips. He felt her response and smiled despite the headache that had returned with the renewed beating of his blood. The smile was nakedly male, frankly triumphant, as though he had been given an answer to a question he hadn’t wanted to put into words.
    Duncan’s other hand slid deeply into Amber’s hair, both caressing and chaining her. Strange sensations coursed from his touch. Before she could put a name to them, she found herself stretched across his chest, her lips against his, and his tongue within her mouth.
    Surprise overcame the other feelings racing wildly through Amber. Instinctively she struggled against Duncan’s heavy embrace.
    At first his arms tightened. Then slowly, reluctantly, he loosened his grip on her just enough so that he could speak.
    “You said you were mine.”
    “I said we were joined .”
    “Aye, lass. That’s what I had in mind. Joining.”
    “I meant—that is—”
    “Yes?”
    Before Amber could answer, the excited yaps and howls of a pack of hunting dogs burst into the clearing that surrounded her cottage. She knew without looking that Erik had come to check on the stranger who had been left in her care.
    Erik would be furious that Amber had disobeyed him and untied the man who had no name.

3
    D UNCAN sat up in a rush, then groaned at the hammer blow of pain behind his eyes.
    “Lie back,” Amber said quickly. “’Tis only Erik.”
    Duncan’s eyes narrowed, but he did as she asked, giving way to the firm pressure of her hands on his shoulders.
    An outraged squawking and screeching from the yard announced that Erik’s hounds had discovered the chickens. As Amber opened the front door, the hound master blew on his horn, calling the dogs back to order.
    The youngest hound in the pack didn’t come to the command. The half-grown dog had just discovered an old goose. Certain of an easy rout, the hound romped forward with delighted barks. The gander arched its long neck, lowered its head, spread its wings, and hissed menacingly.
    The hound kept coming.
    “Erik,” Amber said, “call him off!”
    “It will do him good.”
    “But—”
    The rangy, rough-coated dog attacked. The gander’s right wing came down in a blur of motion. The hound was knocked off its feet. Crying in surprise and pain, the dog scrambled upright and raced back to the pack, tail tucked low.
    Erik laughed so hard it upset the peregrine riding on a perch on the pommel of his saddle. Silver bells on the trailing ends of the jesses jangled harshly, telling of the bird’s disturbance. The falcon flared its narrow, elegant wings and gave a sharp, piercing cry.
    Erik’s answering whistle was as high and wild as the falcon’s. The bird cocked her head and whistled again. This cry was different, as was Erik’s whistled response.
    The falcon folded its wings and was quiet once more.
    Swift glances passed among the squires and knights who were hunting with Erik. His uncanny way with wild beasts was a matter of much speculation among the people. Though none called Erik sorcerer to his face, men whispered it among themselves.
    “Be easy, my beauty,” Erik said softly.
    He stroked the bird with his bare hand. His other hand wore a thick leather gauntlet for protection when the falcon rode his wrist.
    “Robbie,” Erik said to the hound master. “Take the hounds and my men off to the forest. You’re disturbing Amber’s peace.”
    Amber opened her mouth to say that wasn’t true. A glance from Erik silenced her. Without a word, Amber waited until the hounds, horses, and men rode back into the forest in a flurry of noise and motion.
    “How fares the stranger?” Erik asked bluntly.
    “Better than your hound.”
    “Maybe next time Trouble will come when Robbie sounds the hunting horn.”
    “Doubtful. Half-grown males have much passion and little brain.”
    “I’d be insulted if I weren’t fully grown,” Erik said.
    Amber widened her eyes. “Are you? Since when, my lord?”
    A smile flashed and faded on Erik’s handsome face. Silently he waited for Amber to speak of the fully grown male who lay within her cottage.
    “He is awake,” she said.
    Erik’s right hand settled on the hilt of the sword he always wore.
    “His name?” Erik demanded.
    “He doesn’t remember.”
    “What?”
    “He remembers no names from his past, not even his own.”
    “He is as cunning as a fox,” Erik said flatly. “He