Medieval 02 - Forbidden

darkness…and whose true name she had just discovered, her greatest fear come true.
    Duncan of Maxwell, the Scots Hammer .
    “Are you hurt?” Duncan asked. “Did those carrion eaters touch you?”
    The caress of his fingers on Amber’s pale cheek made her want to weep for all that could never be.
    Soul mate and enemy in one .
    Her beloved foe kneeling next to her, concern darkening his eyes while currents of warmth and pleasure coursed through her at his simple touch.
    “Amber?”
    The last frail reed of hope was splintering in front of her eyes. Though Duncan had shown traits of Learned schooling, and the Scots Hammer had never been Learned, she could hardly deny the deadly skill with which Duncan had wielded the hammer.
    There could be no more doubt, no more denial, no hope of error, no excuse not to tell Erik that he had saved the life of his greatest enemy and brought that enemy to Amber.
    Who had then betrayed Erik by keeping her deepest fears of Duncan’s identity secret.
    I can betray Erik no longer .
    But how can I betray Duncan, my love, my enemy, the very blood in my veins …
    Powerful arms lifted Amber. Gentle lips brushed her cheeks, her eyes, her mouth. Each caress was a separate knife turning in her soul.
    “I am…unhurt,” Amber said raggedly.
    “You’re very pale. Have you never seen battle before now?”
    She fought for breath, saying nothing.
    “Dinna worry, precious Amber,” Duncan whispered against her cheek.
    Unable to speak, she simply shook her head.
    “You aren’t frightened, are you?” he asked. “I can protect you from worse than that worthless lot of outlaws and thieves. You know that, don’t you?”
    Amber laughed almost wildly. Then she turned her face into Duncan’s chest and wept.
    Duncan of Maxwell, the Scots Hammer. Aye, I know all too well that you can protect me .
    From everything except the prophecy .
    And from myself .
    That most of all. How can you protect the heart from the very flesh surrounding it ?
    Soul mate .
    Foe .
    Lightning split the day from sky to ground. A savage peal of thunder came right behind.
    “The horses,” Amber said.
    “Stay here,” Duncan said, setting her down. “I’ll get them.”
    As Duncan turned away, Amber saw a patch of red on his tunic.
    “You’re wounded!” she said.
    He kept walking.
    “Duncan!”
    Heart beating frantically, Amber ran after him.
    “Easy, lass,” he said, catching her up in his arms. “You’ll scare the horses.”
    “Put me down! You’ll hurt yourself more!”
    Duncan’s smile flashed whitely beneath his mustache as he saw the concern in Amber’s eyes. He sether on her feet, took a few quick steps, and grabbed Whitefoot’s rein.
    The mare minced nervously but didn’t fight Duncan’s hand. He turned, lifted Amber, and set her astride her mare in a single easy motion. Then he smiled up at her.
    “Simon’s blow hurt more than—” Duncan began.
    “But you’re bleeding,” Amber interrupted.
    “I’ve let more blood to a leech than to that outlaw’s pig sticker.”
    Before Amber could say anything more, Duncan turned, caught up his own horse, and mounted it with muscular ease. His actions belied the red stain on his tunic.
    “Which way to the Stone Ring?” he asked. “Yonder?”
    Amber didn’t even look which way Duncan was pointing. Her only thought was to get his wound cared for.
    “The keep is that way,” she said, pointing.
    Lightning cracked and thunder shook the earth.
    “The storm is that way, too,” Duncan said. “Is there any shelter nearby?”
    “Stone Ring has a mound at the center and a room inside.”
    “Lead us there.”
    For a moment longer Amber hesitated, watching the sky with uneasy eyes. The sense of imminence that she had often known in Ghost Glen or other sacred places was growing within her now.
    Yet she wasn’t standing within an ancient place where stones had been placed by hands long since dead.
    “Amber? What is it? Don’t you know the way?”
    A dazzling bolt of lightning sliced through the day, brighter than a hundred suns. Thunder split the sky and rolled like an avalanche through the glen.
    The hairs on Amber’s nape stirred. The lightninghad struck near the path back to the keep, as though in warning against going back.
    But we must go back! Duncan is hurt .
    Another bolt lanced down, closer this time.
    Amber felt herded, harried, prodded like an animal into the mouth of a funnel whose narrowing walls she could sense but not see. The feeling