5 #3
Afraid not to speak, afraid to speak, Amber held her breath and waited for Duncan’s answer.
“I think…yes,” Duncan said.
“You don’t sound certain,” Erik retorted.
“It’s difficult to be certain without memory,” Duncan said crisply.
“If you remember, tell me. I have use for men who can lead others.”
“Defending Stone Ring Keep?”
“Aye,” Erik said. “The Norsemen covet it as much as they covet Winterlance.”
“And Sea Home is coveted by Normans.”
“So is Stone Ring Keep.”
A chill came over Amber. The challenge in Erik’s voice was subtle, but unmistakable. Memories of her conversation with Erik on the night that Duncan had been found echoed through her.
Then the rumor is true? A Norman granted his Saxon enemy the right to rule Stone Ring Keep?
Aye. But Duncan is no longer Dominic’s enemy. The Scots Hammer swore fealty to Dominic at the point of a sword.
“Your father is lucky to have a strong son,” Duncan said matter-of-factly. “It’s the nature of men to fight for honor, God, and land.”
“Especially land like Sea Home,” Erik agreed. “It’s the richest of my father’s holdings. The pastures fatten many cattle and sheep. The sea yields fresh fish all year. The croplands are fertile. Waterfowl abound in the fens and deer are thick in the forests.”
Duncan heard the clear love of land in Erik’s voice and knew a swift stroke of jealousy.
“It would be a fine thing to have land,” Duncan said softly.
“Oh, no,” groaned Erik in mock despair. “Not another lout in armor pining to take Sea Home from me!”
“Sea Home? Nay,” Duncan said, smiling. “The land around Stone Ring Keep is more to my liking. Higher, rockier, wilder.”
Amber closed her eyes and prayed that Erik would see in Duncan only what she was seeing—a man speaking the truth among people he considered his friends.
“I prefer the salt wind and the cry of sea eagles,” Erik said.
“You have them, and Stone Ring Keep besides,” Duncan said.
“So long as I hold them, yes. In the Disputed Lands, a man’s future is only as long as his sword arm.”
Duncan laughed. “The gleam in your eye says you don’t regret being tested.”
“You have the same gleam in yours,” Erik retorted.
Amber opened her eyes and let out her breath in relief. Erik was teasing Duncan as he would a friend.
“Aye,” Duncan said. “I love a good fight.”
“Nay,” Amber interrupted firmly. “I’ll not have it.”
“Have what?” Erik asked with transparent innocence.
“You are planning to have Duncan join your battle games.”
“Are you willing?” Erik asked Duncan.
“Give me a sword and I’ll show you.”
Fear lanced through Amber. Without thinking, she leaned forward and wrapped her fingers around Duncan’s wrist. The warmth and sheer maleness of him swept through her. She ignored her response, for the fear that drove her was equally strong.
“No,” Amber said urgently. “You nearly died in that storm. It’s much too soon for you to fight unless there is real need.”
Duncan looked down into her anxious golden eyes and felt something taut within him loosen. She had avoided his touch for days, yet she cared for him deeply. Her emotion was so clear to him that he barely refrained from kissing away the lines of fear around her full mouth.
“Don’t worry, precious Amber,” Duncan whispered against her cheek. “I won’t be thrashed by ill-trained knights.”
Duncan’s humor, passion, and supreme self-confidence flowed through the touch to Amber. He wasn’t the least afraid of testing himself against the best Erik had to offer.
In fact, Duncan was anticipating it with the pleasure of a hungry wolf looking over a sheepfold.
Reluctantly Amber loosened her hold on Duncan’s wrist. Though she no longer held him, her fingertips lingered on his wrist with a hunger that was reflected in the shadowed depths of her eyes.
Duncan saw the yearning in her gaze and felt fire flare through his loins. His fingers curled over hers, holding them, needing the contact with a force he couldn’t question.
Erik watched with a combination of wonder and unease.
“You told me,” Erik said to Amber, “but I didn’t truly believe. Touching him doesn’t hurt you. It…pleases you.”
“Yes. Greatly.”
Erik looked from Amber’s face, pleasure and unhappiness combined, to Duncan. There, defiance and pleasure were mingled, making him appear warrior and lover both.
“I do hope,” Erik said distinctly to Amber, “that Cassandra finishes casting the rune stones before I’m forced to decide between what pleases you and the safety of the Disputed Lands.”
Fear rippled through Amber. She closed her eyes and said nothing.
Nor did she pull her fingers away from Duncan’s clasp.
A shout from one of Erik’s knights came through the mist. As one, Erik and Duncan turned. Four knights were riding out from the stables toward the place where Erik waited. Three of the knights were familiar to Erik. The fourth wasn’t.
Duncan straightened and leaned forward as though to see better through the seething mists. Three of the knights were unknown to him.
The fourth made shadows stir and condense into something that was neither memory nor forgetfulness.