Page 139 of Forbidden

Danger!

Yet even as part of Duncan’s mind cried of peril, his recent memories scoffed, for nothing but kindness and incandescent passion had come to him at Stone Ring Keep.

Am I going mad?

Will I be torn in two and die writhing while shades of darkness and amber light battle for my soul?

The only answer that came to Duncan was an inner silence which seethed with contradictions.

The unremembered past was taking shape in his mind as random threads and fragmented patterns, names and no faces, places and no names, faces and no places. He was a tapestry rent and shredded, unraveled as much as woven, threads all snarled and frayed.

Sometimes, the worst times, he saw the shadows retreat, revealing his memory. And that was when he truly knew despair like black ice, freezing everything.

He feared his returning memory.

What is happening to me? God’s wounds, why do I fear the very thing that I long for!

With a harsh sound Duncan grabbed his head in both hands. An instant later, fingers that were both gentle and insistent stroked his clenched fingers.

“Dark warrior,” Amber whispered. “Be at peace.”

If Duncan heard, he made no sound.

Tears slid hotly down Amber’s cheeks as she shared Duncan’s anguish.

And his fear.

Like Duncan, Amber sensed the slow healing of his memory. She saw faces where only shadows had been, heard names where only silence had been, sensed time’s shuttle at work. The pattern which would weave all together was lacking, but it, too, would return. She was certain of it.

And then she would know the wrath of a proud warrior who had been defeated in secret rather than allowed to fight as he had been born to do.

It is too soon. Duncan has had so little time with me. A fortnight before we became lovers. Barely a fortnight since we wed. Not enough time to learn to love me.

Dear God, not nearly enough time.

Only love could forgive so great a deception. If he remembers too soon, he will never forgive me.

Never love me.

And great death will surely flow.

Amber never knew whether she called Duncan’s name with her lips or with her heart. She knew only that suddenly they were holding each other so tightly she couldn’t breathe.

“Precious Amber,” Duncan said in a raw voice. “What would I do without you?”

Tears burned against her eyes and filled her throat.

“You would fare better than I would without you,” she whispered. “You are the heart in my body.”

Duncan felt the hot flow of Amber’s tears. Slowly he eased his grip on her.

“Don’t cry,” he said. “It was but a dream I had, naught to disturb yourself over.”

Amber knew with Learned precision just how little of what had gone on in Duncan’s mind resembled a dream, and she knew that he knew it as well as she did.

Yet she said nothing about the gentle lie. She had no more desire than Duncan to search among the tangled, agonizing threads of his memory for the truth she feared more than she feared death itself.

“Duncan,” she whispered.