Medieval 02 - Forbidden

been foolish .
    He can’t be a man with no name .
    But he was.
    “You don’t remember your name?” she asked in an aching voice.
    “Nay, nor anything but…”
    “Yes?” Amber asked eagerly.
    “Darkness. A thousand shades of black.”
    “Is that all?”
    Thick lashes flickered for a moment as the stranger rubbed his raw wrists and looked at the ceiling, searching for something only he could see.
    “A golden light,” he said slowly, “a sweet voice calling to me, luring me from that fell night, breathing the scent of larch and pine over me.”
    Hazel eyes flecked with gray and green and blue focused intently on Amber. His hand moved soswiftly that she was captive before she knew what had happened. His fingers slid into her hair all the way to her scalp. He held her gently this time, but so securely there was no chance to get away.
    Nor did Amber want to. A curious pleasure was coursing through her. She had touched the stranger many times, but never had she been touched by him. The difference was quite thrilling, despite her clear understanding that his emotions were a seething, unpredictable storm that might slip his control at any moment.
    Slowly the man drew Amber down onto the bed next to him. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply, drinking her scent. Amber brushed her lips across his cheek and chest as had become her custom through the long hours that she had tended him.
    “It was you,” he said huskily.
    “Yes.”
    “Do I know you?”
    “You know only what is in your own mind,” she said. “Do you know me?” she countered.
    “I think I have never seen a girl more beautiful. Not even…”
    The man’s deep voice faded and he frowned heavily.
    “What is it?” Amber asked.
    “I can’t remember her name.”
    “Whose?”
    “The one who was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Until you.”
    As the stranger spoke, Amber deliberately flattened both palms against the naked skin of his shoulders. A vague image came to her of a girl with hair as red as flame and far-seeing eyes of jeweled green.
    The image faded, leaving him without a name to put to the delicate face. He shook his head and cursed roughly in frustration.
    “Give yourself time to heal,” Amber said. “Your memory will return.”
    Big hands clamped around her shoulders and strong fingers dug urgently into her flesh.
    “There is no time! I must—I must—God’s teeth, I can’t remember!”
    Tears came to Amber’s eyes as the stranger’s anguish swept through her. He was a man whose honor was his greatest possession. He had given vows that must be kept.
    But he could not remember who had accepted those vows.
    Nor could he remember what the vows had been .
    A cry was dragged from Amber’s throat, for the man’s pain and fear and rage were also hers while she touched him.
    Instantly the pressure on her shoulders was relieved. Battle-hardened hands began caressing rather than digging into soft flesh.
    “Forgive me,” he said hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
    Surprisingly gentle fingers brushed over Amber’s eyelashes, taking her tears. Startled, she opened her eyes.
    The man’s face was very close to hers. Despite his own agitation, he was concerned for her. It was as clear to her as the dark, thick lashes that framed his hazel eyes.
    “You d-didn’t hurt me,” Amber said. “Not in the way you mean.”
    “You’re crying.”
    “’Tis your anguish. I sense it so very clearly.”
    Dark eyebrows rose. The backs of the man’s fingers brushed very lightly over Amber’s cheek. Hot tears burned against his skin.
    “Don’t cry, gentle fairy.”
    Amber smiled despite her tears. “I’m not a fairy.”
    “I don’t believe you. Only a creature of magic could have pulled me from that savage darkness.”
    “I’m a student of Cassandra the Wise.”
    “Ah, that explains it,” he said. “You’re a witch.”
    “Not at all! I’m simply one of the Learned.”
    “I meant no insult. I have a fondness for witches who can heal.”
    “You do?” Amber asked, startled. “Have you known many?”
    “One.” The man frowned. “Or is it two?”
    His control threatened to break at the new evidence that he had none of the memories other people take for granted.
    “Try not to fight so,” Amber said. “It only makes things worse. Can’t you feel that?”
    “’Tis hard not to fight,” he said through his teeth. “Fighting is what I do best!”
    “How do you know?”
    The man went still.
    “I