Page 108 of Forbidden

He was watching her with an intensity that burned as clearly as the hearth fire.

Amber closed her eyes and released Duncan’s wrist. Yet in the very act of letting go of him, her fingertips caressed the veins where the force of his life surged just beneath his skin.

Erik sensed Amber’s sorrow as clearly as he sensed her love for the dark warrior who watched her with haunted eyes.

“Duncan,” Erik said, “leave us.”

“Nay,” Duncan said savagely. “I’ll not have you shame Amber for what wasn’t her fault.”

Erik looked directly into Duncan’s eyes and knew that the other man was walking on a knife-edge of control. Erik wondered what memories were returning, how quickly; and how much time he had before Duncan awakened and knew himself as the Scots Hammer.

Erik’s enemy.

Amber’s lover.

Betrothed to a Norman heiress whom he had never seen.

Vassal to Dominic le Sabre.

A savage impatience flattened Erik’s mouth as he thought of how little time remained, how much could go wrong, and how great the stakes were.

They must wed.

Immediately!

“I would no more humiliate Amber than I would my own sister,” Erik said carefully. “She is much cherished by me. She is also well known to me.”

He turned to Amber. “Do you wish Duncan to stay while we talk about…wedding arrangements?”

Amber’s smile was even sadder than her tears. Slowly she shook her head.

Without a word Duncan turned on his heel and left the lord’s solar.

Erik waited until the last harsh echo of Duncan’s footsteps had faded into the hiss of the fire. But even then Amber didn’t speak. She simply stood unmoving, slow tears turning her pale cheeks to silver.

Uneasiness rippled through Erik. He had seen Amber many ways, in many moods, but never had he sensed such unremitting sorrow in her.

As though something cherished had died.

“If it wouldn’t cause you pain,” Erik said, “I would take you onto my lap and rock you like a child.”

Amber’s laugh was little different from a sob.

“There is only one person who can hold me thus without discomfort,” she whispered.

“Duncan.”

A look of profound loss shadowed Amber’s face.

“Aye,” she whispered. “My dark warrior.”

“You will be wed to him before the chaplain chants morning mass,” Erik said. “Why, then, do you grieve?”

“I cannot marry Duncan.”

“God’s blood, was he that great a swine with you?”

At first Amber didn’t understand. When she did, a blush tinted her pale cheeks.