Page 202 of Forbidden

Yet he had touched it only once. The grief he had felt then had brought him to his knees.

He had been careful not to touch the amber again.

“I am released from no obligation,” Duncan said.

His voice, like his eyes, lacked animation. Neither lacked conviction, however. He meant what he said.

“Don’t be—” Dominic began.

“Without Stone Ring Keep as your ally,” Duncan said, ignoring Dominic’s attempt to speak, “Blackthorne will soon be at war with the Disputed Lands.”

Dominic wanted to deny it. He couldn’t. He badly needed allies, for he couldn’t afford to hire more knights until he brought Blackthorne back from the ruin its previous lord had made of it.

“Without Ariane’s dowry, I can’t hold Stone Ring Keep,” Duncan said. “Nor can you give me money without stripping Blackthorne to the bone.”

A low curse was Dominic’s only answer.

“In five days I will wed Ariane,” Duncan concluded.

“Nay! I’ll not see you live like a man half alive,” Dominic said grimly. “Or worse.”

“You have no control over the matter. You are no longer my lord.”

“I’ll refuse to put my seal on the annulment.”

“’Tis but a formality,” Duncan said indifferently. “The Church won’t care. The keep’s chaplain will marry us. I am lord of this keep, not you.”

Dominic opened his mouth to argue further, but Meg’s hand on his wrist restrained him.

Duncan didn’t notice. He was looking at the amber again, lost in its cloudy depths. Sometimes he almost believed he could see Amber there.

Sometimes…

A peregrine called softly. The trill was too sweet to have come from a falcon’s throat. It hung in the air like light made into music.

Duncan looked up.

Erik stood nearby, his uncanny peregrine on his wrist.

“I will match Ariane’s dowry,” Erik said.

For a moment life flared in Duncan’s eyes. Then it died, leaving him darker than before.

“’Tis generous of you,” Duncan said tonelessly, “but Baron Deguerre would go to war if his daughter were jilted by a Scots bastard. In the end it would be the same—Blackthorne lost because of a broken vow.”

Erik looked to Dominic.

The Glendruid Wolf nodded reluctantly.

“Deguerre was furious at having to wed his daughter to a nameless bastard knight,” Dominic said slowly. “If Duncan refuses Ariane, Deguerre will go to war against both of us. And he will have King Henry’s blessing.”

“Ariane and I will be wed in five days,” Duncan said. “It matters not.Amber is gone.”

For a time there was no sound but the crackling of the fire and the distant moan of wind. Then Ariane took up the harp again. The tune she played caught the mood of the room with eerie accuracy: frustration and grief, a cold trap irrevocably closing, grinding life and hope between its cruel teeth.

Simon looked from his brother to the aloof Norman heiress. His mouth flattened into a grim line. Then he turned to Dominic once more.

“I’ll marry the Norman wench,” Simon said curtly.