Page 59 of Forbidden

Duncan looked past her bright golden hair to the gray steel chain draped along the wall.

“Aye,” he said. “But have they had enough of me?”

Duncan reached over Amber’s shoulder and took the weapon from its rest with an ease that belied the weapon’s weight.

“I’ll take this with me,” he said.

Amber’s teeth sank into her lower lip as she saw what lay in Duncan’s hands.

Simon saw it as well. Quietly he began preparing for the battle that would come if the pond of Duncan’s memory stilled long enough for the fragments of light to flow into a true image of the past.

Erik simply stared. He didn’t realize he had drawn his own sword until he felt its cold, familiar weight in his hand.

“The hammer,” Erik said in a neutral voice. “Why did you choose that from all the weapons in the armory?”

Surprised, Duncan looked at the weapon that felt so right in his hands.

“I have no sword,” Duncan said simply.

“So?”

“There is no better battle weapon than the hammer for a man with no sword.”

Slowly both Simon and Erik nodded.

“May I borrow it?” Duncan asked. “Or is it the special favorite of one of your knights?”

“No,” Erik said in a soft voice. “You may keep it.”

“Thank you, lord. Daggers are fine for close fighting or slicing roasts, but a man needs a weapon with reach for serious fighting.”

“Are you planning to fight soon?” Erik probed.

Grinning, Duncan let the chain slip and rattle through his fingers, testing the hammer’s weight and length.

“If I came upon some outlaws bent upon an early grave,” Duncan said, “I would hate to disappoint them for lack of a weapon.”

Simon laughed outright.

Erik smiled like the wolf he was reputed to be.

All three men looked at one another in silent recognition—and appreciation—of the hot fighting blood that ran through each of them.

Abruptly Erik clapped both Duncan and Simon on the shoulder as though they were brothers by blood as well as by inclination.

“With men like you at my side, I wouldn’t fear taking on the Glendruid Wolf himself,” Erik said.

Simon’s smile faded. “The Scots Hammer tried. And failed.”

For a moment Duncan became so still that it seemed as though his very heart had stopped beating.

Amber’s had. Then it lurched and beat frantically.

“Duncan?” she asked, nakedly pleading. “Won’t you come now with me to the fen?”

He didn’t answer for the space of one breath, two breaths, three…

Then he made a low sound. His fingers clenched on the hammer until it seemed that steel must give way before flesh.