Page 30 of Forbidden

Cassandra closed her eyes and crossed herself.

“I will consult my rune stones,” she said.

Amber let out a sigh of relief and looked hopefully at Erik.

“I will wait a fortnight, no more,” Erik said. “If your Duncan is revealed as my enemy during that time…”

“Yes?” she whispered.

Erik shrugged. “I will treat him just as I would any other outlaw found skulking about my keeps. I will hang him where I find him.”

4

DUNCANspun toward the soft, unexpected sound. The movement drew the folds of his new under tunic tightly across his body, outlining its muscular lines in swaths of pale linen and shadow. As he turned, his right hand went to his left side, fingers grasping for the sword that wasn’t there.

When the cottage door opened to reveal only Amber, his hand relaxed.

“You make no more sound than a butterfly,” Duncan said.

“It’s a dreary day for butterflies. The rain is like buckets upended.”

Amber shook water from her hooded mantle, shrugged it off, and hung it on a peg to dry. The other mantle, the one she had kept dry beneath her own, she kept folded over one arm. When she turned back to Duncan, he was pulling an outer tunic into place. The costly green wool was sewn with embroidered ribbons in gold and red and blue at the hem.

“You look like a thane,” Amber said admiringly.

“A thane would have a sword.”

She smiled despite the fear that had become her constant attendant since talking with Erik four days ago. Each day Duncan revealed his warrior heritage in many ways, but never more so than when he was taken by surprise.

And each day was another drop in the pool of fear that grew uneasily in Amber. She could not bear to think of what Erik would do if Duncan proved to be the Scots Hammer rather than a bold knight looking for a worthy lord to serve.

If he is my enemy…I will hang him where I find him.

“Is this clothing more comfortable than the last?” Amber asked in a strained voice.

Duncan stretched his arms and flexed his shoulders, testing the width of the fabric. It was tight, but better than the first tunic Amber had brought. That one barely had taken his head through the neck opening, much less the breadth of his chest and shoulders across the back.

“It’s much better,” Duncan said, “though I fear it would give way in a battle.”

“You’re among friends,” she said quickly. “There is no need to fight.”

For a moment Duncan said nothing. Then he frowned as though searching for a memory that was no longer there.

“I hope you’re right, lass. I just keep feeling…”

Heart in her throat, Amber waited.

With a throttled curse, Duncan abandoned the hunt among the shadow memories that mocked and teased him, retreating as soon as he approached.

“Something is not right,” he said flatly. “I am a man out of place. I know it as surely as I know that I breathe.”

“It has been only a handful of days since you awakened. Healing takes time.”

“Time. Time! God’s teeth, I have no time to stand around like a squire waiting for his lord to sleep off a night of folly. I must—”

Duncan’s words ended as though cut off by a sword. He didn’t know what he had to do.

It was worse than a fox gnawing at his vitals.