17 #2
“To practice the black arts thus would have left a mark on Duncan’s soul that nothing save God could erase,” Meg said. “Duncan has no such mark.”
Simon looked back at Meg.
“Do you think,” she asked softly, “that I would knowingly set an enemy in our midst?”
“No.”
“Do you think I would put Dominic’s life at risk in any way?”
“Nay,” Simon said. “Never.”
The certainty in his voice was reflected in his eyes. He knew to the depths of his soul that Meg loved his brother in a way Simon had never thought to see a woman love any man.
Meg saw Simon’s faith in her and touched his cheek in brief thanks.
“Then believe me,” she whispered, “when I say that Duncan is not bewitched.”
“If it were anyone but you speaking…” Simon said, raking his fingers through his fair hair.
Meg waited.
With a resigned gesture, Simon turned away. “I’ll bring the hell-witch to him myself.”
“Nay!” Duncan said violently. “Don’t you understand? Your hatred wounds her.”
Simon looked at Meg.
“Duncan,” Meg said, “if we untie you, will you vow not to attack us?”
“As long as you don’t further wound Amber, yes.”
Dominic put his hand on Meg’s arm when she would have drawn her own dagger to cut Duncan free.
“Slowly, small falcon,” Dominic said. “We have had Duncan’s word in the past and found it without value.”
When Duncan realized what Dominic was saying, he flushed with anger.
And then he turned pale.
“Am I forsworn?” Duncan asked starkly. “Do you know of any vow I have broken?”
Dominic saw the depth of Duncan’s emotion and knew that whatever had happened since Duncan had come to the Disputed Lands, the Scots Hammer had not knowingly broken his word.
“Do you know me?” Dominic asked almost gently.
Duncan stared at the Glendruid Wolf as though sight alone could put together the elusive fragments of the past.
But it could not.
“I…should.” Duncan’s voice was hoarse with effort. “I sense it, but…”
“You don’t know me,” Dominic finished.
“No,” Duncan whispered.
“Then you are not forsworn,” Dominic said simply. “Cut his bonds, Meg. Duncan has given his word not to attack unless we harm the witch.”
Dagger in hand, Meg bent over the cords. No sooner had she cut through them than Duncan sprang to his feet and went to where Amber lay.
The coolness of her skin shocked an oath from him.
Hurriedly Duncan lay down beside Amber, lifted her slack body against his, and wrapped the blanket around both of them, trying to warm her flesh with his own.
“Precious Amber,” he whispered. “What has happened to you?”
There was no answer.
The Scots Hammer bent his head, hiding his face in the unbound gold of Amber’s hair.
“I did but pull her from her horse,” Simon said, baffled. “I swear it.”
“It isn’t your fault,” Meg said. “Whether Learned or Glendruid, a gift is also a curse.”
“I suspect that Amber’s is more curse than gift,” Dominic said in a low voice.
“Are you saying that my touch alone did that to her?” Simon asked, appalled.
“Your touch told her of your hatred,” Meg said. “You have little trust in women, especially those with gifts.”
Simon didn’t deny it. “I make an exception for you, Meg.”
“I know. I have seen it in you.”
“Are you smiling lovingly at my brother?” Dominic asked Meg in an ambiguous tone.
Simon gave Dominic a sideways, wary glance.
Meg laughed softly.
“Of all men who walk the land,” she said, “you have the least cause to be jealous.”
“Aye. But Simon is a handsome devil.”
“So is Duncan,” Simon retorted.
Dominic grunted. “Seeing him with his witch, I no longer worry that he looks at Meg with more than friendship in his eyes.”
Simon followed Dominic’s glance to where Duncan lay cradling Amber against his body.
“Aye,” Simon whispered. “What do we do now?”
“What we must,” Dominic said quietly.
“And that is?”
“Question him before the witch awakens.”
“Let me,” Meg said.
After a brief hesitation, Dominic nodded.
“All right, small falcon. He remembers you with…affection.” Dominic smiled thinly. “His memories of me might be somewhat different.”
“Particularly if he remembers what happened in the church,” Simon said sardonically.
Meg gave Dominic a sideways glance. She knew quite well how little her husband like remembering Duncan and John’s plan to wed her to the Scots Hammer—over Dominic’s freshly killed body.
“Duncan,” Meg said.
Though her voice was gentle, it wasn’t timid. She was the lady of a great keep and a Glendruid healer, and she meant to have Duncan’s attention.
He looked up, his eyes wild with shades of darkness.
“Is she better?” Meg asked.
“Her skin feels less cool,” Duncan said.
Muted cries of bells marked Meg’s progress toward the girl who lay unmoving in Duncan’s arms. Meg bent closer but didn’t touch Amber.
“How does her heart feel beneath your hand?” Meg asked.
“Strong. Steady.”
“Excellent. She appears to be in a healing sleep rather than in a stupor. When she is ready, she will wake without lasting harm.”
Meg stood and watched Duncan’s large hand smooth hair back from Amber’s face. Though asleep, Amber seemed almost to follow the caress the way a flower follows the sun across the sky.
“I take it your touch doesn’t wound her,” Meg murmured.
“Nay.”
“Odd,” Meg said.
“Aye. The people of Stone Ring Keep were much surprised.”
Meg sensed Dominic’s sudden, intense interest at Duncan’s mention of the contested keep.
“Is Amber from Stone Ring Keep?” Meg asked.
“Yes.”
“Vassal to Erik, called the Undefeated?”
Duncan smiled strangely. “Aye. They were childhood friends, much as you and I were. He and a Learned witch called Cassandra are Amber’s closest friends.”
A gust of wind blew through the camp, stirring Meg’s robes and setting hidden golden bells to crying. The sound caught Duncan’s attention.
“You never used to wear such jewelry,” he said. “Did you?”
“No. They were my husband’s gift. Golden jesses for his small falcon.”
Duncan looked back down at Amber’s face. He stroked her cheek tenderly. It was warm beneath his touch.
The icy fist that had squeezed Duncan’s heart eased somewhat. With a silent prayer of thanks, he pulled Amber even closer to his own warmth.
“What do you remember of the time before you came to the Disputed Lands?” Meg asked.
“Very little. Not even my true name.”
“Duncan is your true name.”
“Nay. Duncan is the name Amber gave me when I awakened with no more memory than a babe has.” He brushed his lips over Amber’s eyelids. “She touched me, knew me, and named me dark warrior. Duncan.”
A single black eyebrow rose, emphasizing Dominic’s skepticism. But a quick warning look from Meg ensured his silence.
“How did you find Amber?” Meg asked.
“I didn’t. Erik discovered me inside Stone Ring, at the foot of the sacred rowan.”
Meg became very still.
“I was naked,” Duncan said, “senseless, and had nothing of my possessions with me but an amber talisman.”
His head snapped up suddenly.
“You gave it to me,” he said to Meg.
“Yes.”
“I remembered that as in a misty dream, the color of your hair and eyes, but not your name or where you were or why you would give something so valuable to me.”
“Are you certain you were found inside the Stone Ring?” Meg asked, ignoring Duncan’s implied question.
“Yes. That—and the talisman—was why Erik brought me to Amber. All things amber belong to her.”
“Is she the one called Untouched?”
“Yes,” Duncan said huskily. “Until I came to her.”
“And then?”
“She burned at my touch, but there was no pain. I burned at her touch and found Paradise.”
Duncan looked up at Meg, wanting her to understand what he himself was still discovering.
“There has never been another woman like Amber for me,” he said slowly. “There never will be. It is as though God made her solely for me, and me solely for her.”
Simon and Dominic exchanged a look, but neither man spoke. There was nothing they could say to parry the certainty in Duncan’s voice.
“So Erik brought you to Amber,” Meg said carefully, “because all things amber belong to her.”
“Yes. I lay senseless in her cottage for two days.”
“Dear God,” Meg whispered.
“Somehow Amber called me from the fell darkness that had taken me. Without her I would have never wakened.”
“So you married her out of gratitude,” Dominic said in a low voice.
Duncan shook his head. “I vowed if I took her, I would marry her.”
“So she seduced you,” Dominic muttered.
“Nay. She was a virgin when we lay together beneath the sacred rowan in Stone Ring.”
Delicate chills coursed down Meg’s spine. She, too, had once lain as a virgin with a warrior in a sacred place. She, too, had arisen no longer a maid. She, too, had been a participant in a destiny whose choices were not always obvious.
And not always her own.
“What is your memory like now?” Meg asked.
“Leaves scattered by a dark wind,” Duncan said bitterly.
“Has there been no improvement since you first awakened?”
Duncan let out a harsh breath he hadn’t been aware of holding.
“Instants of understanding, no more,” he said. “Just enough to tantalize me.”
“Do these memories come at any special time or place?”