Medieval 02 - Forbidden

fits,” she said finally.
    Meg flicked a corner of the blanket back. Amber’s wrists were tied neatly together in front of her.
    “’Tis said that anyone’s touch is painful to her,” Sven added.
    “Aye,” Meg said.
    Her fingers stopped short of Amber’s wrists. There were no obvious marks of bruising, no sign of swelling. Nor was there any other injury visible on her body.
    Yet Amber lay senseless, her skin cold to the touch, her heartbeat too rapid, her breathing too light.
    After pulling Amber’s mantle and the blanket more closely around her, Meg stood and went to check on Duncan again. When she would have knelt beside him, Dominic’s hand shot out. He pulled her aside, putting her behind his broad back.
    Now Meg was well beyond Duncan’s reach, even if he were free to seize her.
    “Leave Duncan be,” Dominic said. “He is like a stranger. He knows us not.”
    “He knew me,” Meg said.
    “Did he?” Simon muttered. “Or was he simply surprised to hear a woman’s voice?”
    “Ask him,” Dominic said curtly. “He is only pretending to sleep now.”
    As Dominic spoke, he watched the knight who had sworn fealty to him…the knight who now watched Dominic with the eyes of a man half mad with hatred.
    “What have you done to Amber?” Duncan snarled.
    “Naught but pull her from her horse,” Dominic said.
    “You touched her?”
    Dominic shrugged. “I? No. Simon did. Most gently, if you think on the circumstances.”
    “Let me see her!”
    “No,” Dominic said distinctly. “I think you have seen far too much of your leman.”
    “She is my wife!”
    A stillness came over Dominic. “Is she? Since when?”
    “Twelve days.”
    Muscles bunched and strained visibly as Duncan fought his bonds.
    With outward calm Dominic waited until Duncan was panting, sweating, and convinced that he was well and truly bound.
    “I must be with Amber,” Duncan said urgently. “She is not like others. A stranger’s touch can be a sword cutting her. Whether you meant to or not, you have sorely hurt her. Let me go to her.”
    Dominic sensed Meg’s movement behind him. He countered it, keeping her from Duncan’s view.
    The half step Dominic took put him into full sunlight. He swept off his battle helm and looked down at Duncan. The clear, bright light heightened the contrast between Dominic’s black hair and his crystalline gray eyes.
    On the shoulder of Dominic’s black mantle, the eyes of the Glendruid Wolf gleamed as though alive, infused with ancient wisdom.
    “Do you know me?” Dominic asked.
    Duncan’s only answer was a feral snarl.
    “You have been bewitched,” Dominic said. “We are your friends, yet you have no memory of us.”
    A shudder coursed through Duncan.
    “Nay, I was but ill,” he said hoarsely.
    “Do you remember the time before you came to the Disputed Lands?” Dominic asked.
    “No.”
    “Do you know that man?” Dominic asked, pointing to Sven.
    Duncan looked. A expression of strain came to his face as he tried to rip shadows aside to get at the truth beneath.
    “I…” Duncan’s voice faded to a hoarse whisper. “I have no memory.”
    “Do you know this woman?”
    Dominic stepped aside, leaving Meg alone in a shaft of sunlight. Her loosely bound hair blazed like fire. Her matchless eyes were an intense, burning green given only to Glendruid women.
    Duncan made an odd sound.
    “Don’t you know me, Duncan?” Meg asked gently. “Once, we chased butterflies together.”
    An agonized expression crossed Duncan’s face. Memories glittered like moonlight on disturbed water.
    “You taught me to ride,” Meg continued, her voice soft, relentless, “to hunt, and to cast the lure for a falcon. We were betrothed when I was but nine.”
    Abruptly memory flowed together—a face, a name, a childhood stitched through with a girl’s laughter.
    “Meggie?” Duncan whispered.
    A smile transformed Meg’s face.
    “Aye, Duncan. Meggie. Of all the people in Blackthorne Keep, only you call me that.”
    The mention of Blackthorne Keep made shadows within Duncan swirl and churn. He turned and looked at Simon.
    “You talked of Blackthorne Keep when we fought.”
    “Aye. ’Tis how I defeated you,” Simon said.
    “Blackthorne…”
    A shudder tore through Duncan’s powerful body. More fragments of memory touched and wove together.
    “Lord John,” Duncan said, looking at Meg. “My…father?”
    “Your father,” she agreed. “Though he wasn’t free to wed your