9 #3
Swiftly Amber drew in her breath.
“In my mind I heard voices chanting and saw candles,” Duncan continued.
“Church?” Erik asked.
But it was Amber he asked, not Duncan.
“Yes,” she said. “It has the feel of church.”
“What else do you sense?” Erik asked curiously.
“Duncan’s memories stir, but not strongly enough to win free of the shades of darkness.”
“Interesting. What else?”
Amber glanced sideways at Duncan. He was watching her with an expression of growing disbelief.
“Think of the church, dark warrior,” she said.
The taut line of Duncan’s mouth was his only answer. Amber took in a ragged breath.
“I gather that whatever happened in the church was a special occasion rather than an ordinary mass,” she said faintly.
“Funeral? Wedding? Baptism?” Erik prodded.
Amber simply shook her head. “He doesn’t know.”
Duncan gave Amber a long look.
Subtle tension overtook her, drawing her mouth into a taut line.
“What is it?” Erik asked.
“Duncan resents me,” Amber said.
“Quite understandable,” Erik said in a dry voice. “I don’t hold it against him.”
“But he holds it against me. It is like grasping nettles,” Amber whispered. “May I release him?”
“Soon. Until then,” Erik said, switching his glance to Duncan, “you might consider that Amber is your best hope of piercing the darkness of your past.”
“How so?” Duncan asked coldly.
“I should think it would be obvious,” Erik retorted. “Apparently she can sense things in your thoughts that you miss.”
“Is that true?” Duncan asked Amber.
“With you, yes. With others, never.”
Duncan looked down at Amber. The unhappiness in her expression told him that she disliked the process of questioning him through touch as much as he did.
“Why am I different?” he asked. “Because I have no memory?”
“I don’t know. I know only that we’re joined in ways I don’t understand.”
For a long moment Duncan simply looked at Amber. Then his breath sighed out. He picked up her fingers and gave them a kiss. Holding her hand between his own, he began speaking softly.
“When I first saw Simon, I sensed danger, voices chanting, candles,” Duncan said. “Then I remembered the feel of a cold knife blade between my thighs.”
Amber made a shocked sound.
“Not a comfortable memory,” Erik said, smiling thinly.
“Aye.”
Duncan’s voice was as sardonic as Erik’s smile.
“Go on,” said Erik.
“There’s little more to it,” Duncan said, shrugging. “I remember a man watching me with eyes as dark as midnight in hell.”
“Simon,” Erik said.
“At first I thought so. But now…” Duncan sighed.
“Amber?” Erik asked.
“Why did you decide it wasn’t Simon?” she asked Duncan.
“Because he didn’t recognize me. If I had held a blade between a man’s thighs, I would certainly recognize him and know the reason for our enmity.”
Amber stiffened.
“What is it?” Erik asked softly.
“The church,” Amber said. “It was a wedding.”
“You’re certain?” Duncan and Erik asked as one.
“Aye. The feel of an embroidered shoe—” she began.
“In my hand! Yes!” Duncan interrupted triumphantly. “Her shoe was silver, as delicate as frost! I remember it!”
Tears stood in Amber’s eyes, then slipped soundlessly down her cheeks.
“Is there anything else, Amber?” Erik asked.
His voice was truly gentle this time, for he had seen her tears and guessed the reason why.
Abruptly Duncan realized that he was holding very tightly to Amber’s fingers.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
Amber shook her head but would not meet Duncan’s eyes. Long fingers tilted her face up to his with a strength that would not be denied.
“Precious Amber,” Duncan said. “Why do you cry?”
Her lips parted but no words came out. Her throat was too filled with tears for her to speak.
“Is it something in my memories you see that I don’t?” he asked.
Amber shook her head and tried to pull away from Duncan. His hands tightened, holding her.
“Is it—” he began.
“Leave off,” Erik interrupted curtly. “Release her from your touch. Let her find what peace she can.”
Duncan looked beyond Amber to the man whose eyes were like those of his wolfhounds, gleaming with reflected fire.
“What’s wrong?” Duncan demanded. “Is it a Learned matter? Is that why she won’t tell me?”
“Would that it were,” Erik muttered. “Learned matters respond to intelligence. Matters of the heart do not.”
“Talk sense!”
“’Tis quite simple,” Erik said. “You stood in church with a woman’s shoe in your hand.”
“What has that to do with Amber’s tears?” Duncan asked in exasperation.
“She has given her heart to a man who is already married. Surely that is cause for tears?”
At first Duncan didn’t understand. When he did, he gathered Amber into his arms and laughed. After an instant, so did she, sensing the truth that Duncan had just discovered.
“I was giving the shoe to another man, not taking it from him,” Duncan said. “It was he who married the shoe’s owner, not I!”
The wolfhounds came to their feet, threw back their heads, and howled with an elemental triumph.
Duncan stared at the hounds, wondering what possessed them.
Amber stared at Erik, wondering why he felt a triumph so great that his hounds cried it to the night.