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“Nay,” Amber said fiercely. “That was your own doing, Duncan. Erik and I both swore otherwise, but you didn’t listen. You didn’t want to know the truth, because if you believed me a virgin you wouldn’t have allowed yourself to take me.”

“Aye,” he said in a cold tone.

“‘Aye,’” she mimicked. “Or maybenay, Duncan of the broad shoulders and thick skull! Maybe you wouldn’t have been able to stop yourself even if you knew. Then you would have hated yourself for breaking your vow!”

Memories arced like summer lightning between Amber and Duncan, the wild instant when he had taken her beneath the sacred rowan with a single, unexpected thrust of his body.

“’Tis much easier to hate me than yourself, isn’t it?” Amber asked.

She yanked on the reins, freeing them from Duncan’s grasp before he could recover. Whitefoot backed up in a frantic clatter of metal shoes on cobblestones, taking her rider beyond Duncan’s reach.

“The bridge is drawn up,” Duncan said savagely. “It’s too late to run.”

“I know. I’ve known it since I first touched you. Now you know it, too.”

19

WORDof Cassandra’s appearance went through the keep almost as quickly as word of Duncan’s true name had two days before. Amber heard rumors of the Learned woman whispered by the serving men who brought steaming bathwater to the room where Amber and Duncan had once slept together.

But no more.

Amber hadn’t seen Duncan since he had requested that Simon escort her to the luxurious room. She had become a prisoner in all but name, her only company the servants who came and went without warning.

And without conversation. It was as though they were terrified of being caught speaking to the lady of the keep.

A shout from the bailey below drifted through the partially open shutters. Amber stood poised on the edge of entering the big wooden tub, where water gently steamed.

“She be here, I tell you! Saw her with me own two eyes. Blood-red robes and silver hair!”

Amber listened, but nothing more about Cassandra’s presence could be heard from the high room. With a sigh, Amber slid into the water.

Will Duncan come to me now? Will he finally admit that he needs me as much as I need him?

Only silence answered Amber’s half-fearful, half-yearning thoughts.

That same silence had once been her customary state, but she had never noticed it. She hadn’t known then what it was like to wake up feeling herself surrounded by Duncan’s arms. She hadn’t known then what it was like to feel his warmth, his laughter, his hunger, his peace, his strength, all that was Duncan enfolding her in a richness of emotion she had never imagined.

Having known that sharing, Amber now knew what true loneliness was. She measured its extent in the echoing emptiness that was inside her.

No, Duncan won’t come to me.

’Tis just as well. I dream of black wings beating at me, whispering unthinkable rage, unspeakable grief.

I fear what would happen if I touched him now.

For both of us.

I fear.

And yet I yearn…

The coolness of the bath told Amber that she had spent too long in useless regrets. Despite the hearth’s cheerful fire close by, she felt chilled.

Amber reached for a pot of soap and began washing quickly, barely noticing the complex fragrance of evergreen and spices that rose from the soap. Soon the scent drifted through the room, as did the sound of soft splashes as she bathed.

“My lady,” Egbert called from the hallway beyond the room.

“Again?” muttered Amber under her breath. Then, “What is it?”