Medieval 02 - Forbidden

Squire Egbert’s company.”
    The squire in question gave a heartfelt sigh. He was heartily tired of tiptoeing around a witch of uncertain temper and a warrior whose temper was very certain—and quite vile.
    “Then by all means,” Erik said, stepping away from the cottage door, “let’s be off to Sea Home.”
    Amber pulled the hood of her mantle over her hair and walked across grass that shone with thick drops of water. The smoke of wood and peat fires curled through the early morning, finding space between drops of moisture that were too fine to be rain and too thick to be mist.
    When Amber approached, Egbert whisked a protective cloth from the saddle of a dainty little chestnut mare. The squire made no move to help Amber into the saddle. That would have required touching her, and Egbert knew that no man touched Amber without her specific invitation.
    Duncan didn’t know any such thing. He threw a disbelieving look at the stripling squire, stepped forward quickly, and lifted Amber into the saddle before the other men realized what he was doing.
    Erik drew his sword half out of its sheath before he saw that Amber made no protest. With narrowed eyes he watched Duncan and Amber together.
    Even in the act of releasing her, Duncan let his hands caress subtly, testing the resilience of Amber’s waist and hips, brushing over her thigh.
    “Thank you,” she said.
    Amber’s voice was breathless and her cheeks were flushed. The desire that Duncan had for her burned more brightly with each touch, each look, each day of enforced intimacy in the one-room cottage.
    Once Duncan had gotten over his anger at Amber’s fear of him as a lover, he had set about seducing her with a single-minded focus that was in itself seductive. Instead of banking the fires of mutual desire, Egbert’s presence had acted to heighten the intimacy of the ordinary. Stolen caresses, a smile revealed and then hidden, strong fingers closing over a more delicate hand asa pot was lifted from the fire, all of these worked to increase passion until the very air quivered with it.
    Amber had felt nothing similar in her life. It was as though she were a harp being plucked by a master’s fingers. Each of Duncan’s touches vibrated through her, setting off haunting harmonies in unexpected places. The racing of her heart combined with a curious melting deep inside her body. Her shortened breath was matched by the exquisite sensitivity of her skin.
    Sometimes just watching Duncan was enough to make a sweet lassitude steal through Amber, turning her bones to honey. Now was one of those times. Duncan mounted the spare horse with the grace of a cat leaping onto a fence. His hand rubbed reassuringly down the length of the horse’s neck.
    With a deep, aching breath, Amber tried to still the clamor of her body for the one man she must not have. Yet she couldn’t stop her memory of Duncan’s eyes as he watched her, and his lips as he spoke the words that set her on fire.
    How many times have I undressed you, kissed your breasts, your belly, the creamy smoothness of your thighs ?
    “Are you all right?” Erik asked.
    “Yes,” Amber said faintly.
    “You don’t sound it.”
    Turning, Erik gave Duncan a narrow look.
    “No one touches Amber without her permission,” Erik said. “Is that quite clear?”
    “Why?” Duncan asked.
    “She is forbidden.”
    Surprise showed in Duncan’s expression, but he controlled it immediately.
    “I don’t understand,” he said carefully.
    “You don’t have to,” Erik retorted. “Just don’t touch her. She doesn’t wish it.”
    Duncan smiled slightly. “Truly?”
    “Aye.”
    “In that case, I will do as the lady wishes.”
    With a darkly sensual smile, Duncan turned his horse aside and waited for Erik to lead off into the liquid gray of the morning.
    Erik turned to Amber.
    “Haven’t you warned him about touching you?” he asked.
    “There was no need.”
    “Why?”
    “Even after Duncan awakened, his touch didn’t distress me.”
    “Odd.”
    “Yes.”
    “What did she say?”
    “She is still consulting her runes.”
    Erik grunted. “I’ve never known Cassandra to labor so long over a prophecy before.”
    “No.”
    “God’s blood, no wonder Duncan is eager to be free of the cottage,” Erik muttered.
    Amber gave him a sideways look from golden eyes, but said nothing.
    “You’re as talkative as a turnip,” Erik said.
    She nodded.
    And spoke not one word.
    With an impatient oath, Erik reined his