Page 3 of Forbidden

“Is one of your squires fetching Cassandra?” Amber asked.

“No.”

“Why not?” she asked, startled. “Cassandra has greater skill at healing than I.”

“And far less skill at scrying.”

Amber took a deep, hidden breath. She had been afraid of this since the instant Erik had dumped the naked stranger at her feet. Slowly she reached inside her mantle and nightgown.

Though she had many necklaces and bracelets, pins and hair decorations of precious amber, there was only one piece of jewelry she wore at all times, even in bed. The necklace’s chain was of gold wire finely twisted. A pendant of transparent amber half the size of her palm hung from a golden loop inscribed with tiny runes.

Ancient, priceless, mysterious, the pendant had been given to Amber at her birth. Within the precious gem, captured sunlight pooled and flashed, brooded and laughed and burned, defined by the fragments of darkness that were also caught inside the golden pool.

Murmuring ancient words, Amber held the pendant between her cupped palms. The heat of her body went into the fey stone as her breath bathed it. When the substance was infused with her living warmth, a haze formed.

Quickly Amber bent to the fire, holding the pendant just beyond the reach of flames. As the haze began to clear, the stone shimmered with light and shadow shapes constantly changing.

“What do you see?” Erik asked.

“Nothing.”

He made an impatient sound and looked at the stranger, who still lay slack, seemingly unhurt save for his unnatural sleep.

“Surely you see something,” Erik muttered. “Even I can see into amber when I—”

“Light,” Amber interrupted. “A circle. Ancient. The graceful line of a rowan tree. Shades of darkness. At the foot of the rowan. Something…”

Her voice faded. She looked up and found Erik watching her with eyes that were like amber seen at night, darkly golden, unreadable.

“The Stone Ring and the sacred rowan,” he said flatly.

Amber shrugged.

Body poised as though for battle, Erik waited.

“There are many sacred circles,” she said finally, “many rowans growing, many shades of darkness.”

“You saw him as I found him.”

“Nay! The rowan isinsidethe Stone Ring.”

“So was he.”

Erik’s calm statement sent chills racing through Amber. Speechless, she glanced from him to the stranger who lay wrapped in rich cloth and fur.

And a thousand shades of darkness.

“Inside?” she whispered, crossing herself quickly. “Dear God, who is he?”

“One of the Learned, certainly. No other man could pass between the stones.”

Amber looked at the stranger as though seeking his identity written in runes on his face. She saw only what she already knew—his face was strongly made, very male.

It appealed to her as nothing ever had but amber itself.

She wanted to breathe his breath, to learn his unique scent, to absorb his warmth. She wanted to know his textures, to savor his maleness.

She wanted to touch him.