Medieval 02 - Forbidden

Duncan, a certainty even stronger than the passion that burned within him.
    “Yes,” she whispered. “I believe you.”
    A long, low breath that was almost a groan came from deep in his chest.
    “Thank you,” Duncan said. “In the past, no one would have questioned my oath. But here…here I must prove my worth and honor all over again.”
    “Not to me. I sensed your honor and your pride very clearly the first time I touched you.”
    Duncan gave Amber’s mouth a tender, brushing movement of his lips that was almost too light to be called a kiss.
    “Come,” he said softly, holding out his hand. “Walk with me.”
    Amber laced her fingers through Duncan’s and trembled at the banked fires of passion that burned so intensely in his body.
    “Where are we going?” she asked.
    “To find a place of shelter.”
    “The wind isn’t cold.”
    “Not while we wear our mantles,” he agreed.
    What Duncan left unsaid rippled through Amber in a wave of unease and anticipation combined.
    The murmuring of sea and grass and wind followed both of them to the base of a low rise. There man had once smoothed a circle to raise tall stones within. Though the builders had long since vanished, the grassy circle and stones remained.
    “This place is sheltered,” Amber said. “Unless you fear the stones?”
    For a moment Duncan closed his eyes. Senses that slept within him until times of danger quivered to alertness at his prodding, found nothing of concern, and sank into timeless sleep again.
    Amber, whose hand was still joined with Duncan’s, watched him with amazement. Because of Cassandra’s teaching, Amber knew that if ancient evil had ever lingered near the circle of stones, the evil had long since fled from the place.
    And so did Duncan, who had never been taught.
    He must be an unknown knight. I am silly to keep fearing he is the Scots Hammer, enemy of Erik .
    “There is nothing to fear in the stones,” he said after a moment.
    “You are Learned,” Amber said.
    Duncan laughed. “Nay, my golden witch. I’msimply a warrior who fights with everything available, including my head.”
    Amber started to quarrel about being named a witch before she realized that he had used the term with affection rather than with accusation. When she saw that Duncan was watching her with amusement and approval in his vivid hazel eyes, she decided that she liked being his “golden witch.”
    “That’s what Learning is,” Amber said absently. “Using your head.”
    “In that event,” Duncan said, looking around the circle of stones, “I learned during the holy crusade what every hound is born knowing—danger has a special scent and feel.”
    “I think there is more to it than that.”
    “And I think there is less.”
    Duncan glanced sideways at Amber. She was watching him with luminous golden eyes and an intensity that made him want to ravish her both tenderly and very thoroughly.
    “Come, my amber delight.”
    “Ah, so I’m a delight now rather than a witch. You must be Learned!”
    The smile Duncan gave Amber was like a caress.
    “Delightful witch,” he said in a low voice. “Sit against this stone with me and we’ll argue about what is Learned and what is simply common sense.”
    Smiling, Amber answered the tug on her hand by settling into the grass beside Duncan. The stone he had chosen to shelter them from the fitful wind was taller than a man. Its face was seamed by time and salt air. Within blade-thin crevices on the stone’s surface grew gardens so tiny that a man could scarce see the moss bloom.
    Yet bloom it certainly did. Growing things thrived on the surface of the stone, weaving a thick, vibrantly colored mantle over much of the ancient monolith.
    Amber tested the moss with her fingertips, then closed her eyes and settled back against it with a sigh.
    “How long do you think the stones have waited thus?” she murmured.
    “Not half so long as I’ve wanted to do this.”
    Amber’s eyes opened. Duncan was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath and see the individual splinters of color in his hazel eyes. She drew back slightly, wanting to touch the clean line of his mouth beneath his mustache.
    “Nay, lass,” Duncan said. “There is nothing to fear.”
    “I know. I just wanted to touch you.”
    “Did you? How?”
    “Like this.”
    Amber’s fingertip traced the rim of Duncan’s upper lip. The keen thrill of pleasure that coursed through him at her touch was as much a reward to