Medieval 02 - Forbidden

knows he is in enemy hands and—”
    “Nay,” Amber interrupted. “He knows not whether he is Norman or Saxon, serf or thane.”
    “Is he bewitched?”
    Amber shook her head. The sudden weight and shimmer of her hair falling around her shoulders reminded her that she hadn’t yet managed to bind the locks properly. Impatiently she tossed her head and pulled the mantle’s cowl over her hair, concealing it.
    “There is no feel of compulsion about him,” Amber said.
    “What else did you sense?”
    “Courage. Strength. Honor. Generosity.”
    Erik’s eyebrows rose.
    “A saint,” he said dryly. “How unexpected.”
    Color showed along Amber’s slanting cheekbones as she remembered Duncan’s distinctly unsaintly desire for her.
    “There was also confusion and pain and fear,” she said crisply.
    “Ah, he’s human, then. How disappointing.”
    “You’re a devil, Erik, son of Robert of the North!”
    His smiled. “Thank you. ’Tis nice to have my true character appreciated.”
    Amber laughed despite trying not to.
    “What else?” he asked.
    Her amusement faded. “Nothing.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing.”
    The falcon’s wings flared in swift reflection of its master’s irritation.
    “Why is he in the Disputed Lands?” asked Erik in a clipped voice.
    “He doesn’t remember.”
    “Where was he going?”
    “He doesn’t know,” she said.
    “Does he owe fealty to a lord or is he a free lance?”
    “He doesn’t know.”
    “God’s wounds,” Erik hissed. “Is he a fool?”
    “Nay! He just doesn’t remember.”
    “Have you questioned him with your touch?”
    Amber took a deep breath and nodded slightly.
    “What did you sense?” Erik pressed.
    “When he tries to remember, there is confusion. If he pursues, there is a blinding light, harsh pain…”
    “Like lightning striking?”
    “It could be,” she said.
    Erik’s eyes narrowed into amber slits.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked after a moment. “You’ve never been so uncertain before.”
    “You’ve never brought me a man found senseless within Stone Ring before,” she retorted.
    “Is that a complaint?”
    Amber sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve slept little since you brought him. It was very difficult to call him from the darkness.”
    “Yes. I can see that in the shadows beneath your eyes.”
    She smiled wanly.
    “Amber? Is he friend or foe?”
    The blunt question was the very one that she had feared.
    “Friend,” she whispered. Then honesty and affection compelled her to add, “Until he regains his memory. Then he will be whatever he was before you brought him to me. Friend or enemy or free lance bound to no lord.”
    “Is that the best you can do in assessing him?”
    “He isn’t a criminal or a beast to savage his own kind. He was gentle with me despite his fear.”
    Erik grunted. “But?”
    “But if he regains his memory, he might not consider himself our friend. Or he might be a long-lost cousin happy to find himself at home. Only he can say.”
    “If he regains his memory…”
    Silently, Erik stroked his peregrine’s shining back while he considered the possibilities. A persistent sense of uneasiness threaded through his thoughts. Something was wrong. He knew it.
    He just didn’t know what it was.
    “Will he regain his memory?” Erik asked.
    “I don’t know.”
    “Guess,” he said succinctly.
    A chill went through Amber. She didn’t like to think of what would happen if Duncan’s memory returned. If he were enemy and soul mate in one…
    It would tear her apart.
    Nor did she want to think of what it would be like for Duncan if he didn’t remember. He would be restless, savage, driven mad by names never remembered, sacred vows never honored, a man forsworn.
    It would tear him apart.
    Amber’s breath froze in her chest. She wouldn’t cause such dishonor and anguish even to an enemy, much less to the man who had stolen her heart with a touch, a smile, a kiss.
    “I…” Her voice died.
    “Little one?” Erik asked, troubled by Amber’s haunted golden eyes.
    “I don’t know,” she said in a shaking voice. “So much ill could come. So little good.”
    Rich life might grow, but death will surely flow .
    “Perhaps I had better take the stranger to Stone Ring Keep,” Erik said.
    “Nay.”
    “Why not?”
    “He wears sacred amber. He is mine.”
    The flat certainty in Amber’s voice both surprised and worried Erik.
    “What if he regains his memory?” Erik asked.
    “Then he will.”
    “You