Forbidden (24 page)

Duncan grimaced.

Cassandra looked from Duncan to Amber.

“Duncan is a man of great passion,” Cassandra said softly to Amber. “Why didn't his hatred overwhelm you?”

“Because he feels other things for me as well. It is tearing him apart. It is tearing me as well.”

With that. Amber came back to her feet. She took a step, stumbled, and would have fallen if Duncan hadn't caught her before he thought of the hurt his touch would cause. He released her as quickly as he had caught her.

“I didn't mean to…”

Duncan's voice faded and he made a baffled gesture with his hands. No matter how furious he was with the witch who had betrayed him, the thought of his simple touch causing such pain for her bothered him in ways he didn't want to name.

“ 'Tis all right,” Amber said in a low voice. “It wasn't nearly so hurtful the second time.”

“Why?”        .

“The rage was still there, but it was overwhelmed by your horror at causing me such pain.”

A shuttered look came over Duncan's face as he realized how clearly Amber saw him. More clearly than he saw himself.

More clearly than he wanted to see.

“Then,” Cassandra said, “there is hope.”

“Duncan is a decent man,” Amber said wearily.

“Weave your hopes upon that, rather than upon my future.”

“Hope?” Duncan asked. “Of what?”

Neither woman spoke.

Duncan turned on his heel and sat again in the lord's chair.

“I see that you are quite restored,” he challenged.

A chill gathered in Amber. Duncan's softening toward her had been only momentary.

“Yes,” she said tonelessly.

“Then we will continue. Are the Learned plotting against me?” Duncan asked.

Cassandra's hand lifted to brush against Amber's cheek.

“No,” Cassandra said.

“No,” Amber echoed.

“Does Cassandra hope that they will?”

“No,” Cassandra said.

“No,” Amber echoed.

For a time there was silence but for the cry of wind around the keep and the whistling of a servant as he drew water from the well below the solar.

Then Amber sensed people coming into the room behind her. She didn't look to see who it was. She had attention only for the proud warrior who was gazing at her with far too much darkness in his eyes.

“As you requested,” Simon said from the doorway. “Although what you will do with this lazy lout is beyond me.”

Duncan looked beyond Amber and smiled slightly.

“Stay by the door, Simon, if you please.”

Simon nodded.

“Egbert,” Duncan said. “Step forward.”

Amber heard the squire's footsteps begin, hesitate, and then set off at a different angle, giving her a wide berth.

“No,” Duncan said. “Stand close to the witch.”

“Which one, lord?”

Duncan shot the squire a cold glance. “Amber.”

Egbert edged close enough that Amber could see his shock of reddish hair from the comer of her eye.

“Touch him,” Duncan said distinctly, looking at Amber.

A chill gathered in Amber.

“A few moments of discomfort, I believe you said?” Duncan asked in a soft voice.

Amber turned to Egbert, who was watching her with fear in his eyes.

“This won't hurt you,” she said quietly. “Hold out your hand.”

“But Erik will hang me if I touch you!”

“Erik,” Duncan said in a dangerous voice, “is no longer lord of this keep. I am. Your hand, squire.”

Jerkily, Egbert held out his hand to Amber. She put a single fingertip against it, flinched subtly, and turned to Duncan.

The pallor of Amber's skin angered Duncan all over again.

“Why so pale, witch?” he asked. “Egbert is but a half-grown boy. Compared to a man's passion, it must be less than a candle flame against a roaring hearth fire.”

“Is that a question?” Amber asked.

Duncan's mouth flattened. He switched his savage attention to the squire.

“If you remain at the keep, will you be loyal to me?” Duncan asked.

“I—I—”

“Amber?” Duncan demanded.

“No,” she said tonelessly. “He would be forsworn. His oath has been given to Erik. Egbert may be lazy, but he values his honor.”

Duncan grunted.

“You will leave for Winterlance at dawn,” Duncan said to Egbert. “If you are seen outside your quarters before then, you will be presumed to be an enemy bent on treachery, and you will be treated as such. Go.”

Egbert all but ran from the solar.

“Bring the next one, Simon.”

Cassandra made an involuntary motion of her hand as though to intervene.

“Be still or begone,” Duncan said coldly. “The witch was Erik's weapon once. Now she is mine.”

The hearth fire was freshened three times before Duncan sorted through the keep's squires, men-at-arms, and servants. The squires were all loyal to their oaths and to Erik. The men-at-arms were locally born. They were loyal to the keep rather than to any one lord. It was the same for the servants, who were drawn from the keep's families.

When the last scrying was done. Amber slumped in a chair near the fire, too weary even to hold her cold hands out to the flames. Pale and tightly drawn, her face was a silent rebuke to the man who had used her too hard.

“May I offer my daughter refreshment?” Cassandra asked.

Though the Learned woman's voice was neutral, Duncan felt as though he had been slapped.

“It is within her reach,” he said curtly. “If she wishes to eat or drink, she has but to stretch out her hand.”

“She is too spent.”

“Why?” Duncan's voice was angry. “She said it was but a few moments of discomfort.”

“There is a candle next to you,” Cassandra said. "Hold your hand on the tip of the flame.

He looked at her as though she had lost her mind.

“Do you think I'm mad?” he asked.

“I think you wouldn't ask your knights to do anything that you wouldn't do yourself. Am I correct?”

“Aye.”

“Excellent,” Cassandra hissed. “Then hold your hand over the candle flame, lord. The space of two breaths, no more than three.”

“No,” Amber said dully. “He didn't know.”

“Then he will learn. Won't you, proud lord?”

Duncan narrowed his eyes at the naked challenge in Cassandra's voice. Without a word he stripped off one gauntlet and held his hand over the candle flame for the space of one breath.

Two breaths.

Three.

“And now?” he challenged Cassandra, drawing back from the flame.

“Do it again. Same hand. Same skin.”

“No!” Amber said, reaching for the wine. “I'm well, mentor. See? I drink and eat.”

Duncan put his hand in the flame again. Same hand. Same place on his palm.

One breath, two, three.

Then he withdrew and looked at Cassandra.

She smiled savagely. “Again.”

“Are you—” Duncan began.

“Then again,” Cassandra continued. “And then again. Thirty-two times—”

Comprehension came to Duncan in a wave of coldness. That was the exact number of people whose truth Amber had questioned by touch.

“—until your flesh smokes and burns and you want to cry out, but don't, for it would change nothing, especially the pain.”

“Enough.”

“Why so shocked, proud lord?” Cassandra mocked softly. “As you said, the candle is only a shadow of the hearth fire. But the flame… the flame burns just as deeply in time.”

“I didn't know” Duncan said through his teeth.

“Then you had better learn the nature of the weapon you wield, lest you break it in your ignorance and arrogance!”

“I had to know what the people of the keep were thinking.”

“Yes,” Cassandra acknowledged. “But it could have been more gently done.”

“You could have spoken,” Duncan said, turning to Amber.

“Weapons don't speak,” Amber said. “They are simply used. Are you through wielding me for now?”

Slowly Duncan's hands closed into fists. Just as slowly they opened once more.

“Return to your room,” he said.

Amber set aside the wine goblet and left the solar without a look or a word.

Nor did Duncan call her back.

But when Cassandra would have followed, he gestured to another chair.

“Be seated,” Duncan said. “You have no loyalty to me, but you will do what you can to help the amber witch, won't you?”

Cassandra's lips thinned. “Amber is Learned, not a witch.”

“Answer my question.”

“Aye. Whatever I can do to help Amber, I will do.”

“Then stay nearby and speak for the weapon that is too stubborn to speak for herself.”

“Ah, then you value her.”

“More than my dagger and less than my sword,” Duncan retorted.

“Erik should see you now.”

“Why?”

“He thought your feeling for Amber would be stronger than your pride. I would like to show him how wrong he was,” Cassandra said bitingly. “ 'Tis a pity that he isn't the one to bear the pain of his misjudgment.”

Before Duncan could speak, Simon and Dominic came into the solar. They looked from Cassandra to Duncan to the untouched supper arrayed on a table near the hearth.

“I have news that should whet your appetite,” Dominic said.

“What is it?” Duncan asked, turning away from Cassandra.

“Sven assures me that the people of the keep are quite willing to accept you as their lord.”

Duncan smiled and turned to Cassandra.

“Disappointed?” he taunted.

“Only in your treatment of your wife.”

“Then you need not worry for long,” Simon said. “The marriage will be set aside.”

Duncan and Cassandra turned as one to face Simon.

“ 'Tis a true marriage,” Cassandra said. “Ask Duncan if he hasn't had carnal knowledge of his wife!”

“Whether she is maiden or madam,” Dominic said, “it matters not. The marriage was conducted under false pretenses. No bishop would uphold it.”

“Especially if a church or a monastery were offered as a gesture of respect,” Simon said sardonically.

“You exchanged sacred vows,” Cassandra said to Duncan. “Will you go back on your word?”

“Vows.” Duncan's mouth flattened in pain or contempt or both together. “Nay, I won't go back on my true word.”

Cassandra closed her eyes in a relief she couldn't hide.

“I will keep the true vow I made when my mind was whole,” Duncan said. “I will marry Lady Ariane of Deguerre.”

“What of Amber?” Cassandra asked.

Duncan turned to Dominic without answering.

“Send for my betrothed,” Duncan said flatly. “The wedding will take place as soon as the Church agrees.”

“What of Amber?” Cassandra demanded.

Duncan rose and walked out of the solar, looking at no one.

“What of Amber!” Cassandra shouted.

Cassandra's cry echoed through the great hall, following Duncan. Even when the last echo had faded, he heard the words crying within the bleak silence of his mind.

What of Amber?

What of your sacred vow?

Amber.

Sacred.

Amber. Amber. Amber…

There was no peace for Duncan in any part of the keep. The cry was a part of him, as deeply embedded as the pain of his old memory and his new betrayal.

The past turning, returning, tormenting him first with Amber's voice and then with his own.

Truly I am safe with you.

Always, my golden witch. I would sooner cut off my own sword hand than harm you.

The memory was too sad, too savage. Duncan pushed it away, buried it among the thousand shades of darkness where he could no longer hide.

Cassandra's voice pursued him, the Learned woman's words raining down like drops of fire.

To deny the truth of the past or the present will destroy you as surely as cleaving your head in two with a sword.

Remember what I have said when the past returns and seems to make a lie of the present.

Remember it.

Long after others slept, Duncan paced the halls and winding stairways of his own keep. Voices spoke within his silence, words echoing through his seething mind. Amber's voice describing passion, pride, and honor being used as tools of war.

Erik knew that you didn't love me. He knew that you wouldn't marry me if you remembered.

And he knew how much you desired me.

Duncan desired her still. False or true, witch or woman, leman or wife, she made his body bum for her with all the fires of hell. The violence of his need overwhelmed everything.

Even betrayal.

Gradually Duncan realized he was standing in front of Amber's door, his fists clenched at his sides. He didn't know how long he had been standing there. He knew only that he must be inside with her.

The door to the bedchamber made no sound when Duncan pushed it open. The candles had burned low. The hearth held little more than embers. Draperies around the bed gleamed darkly as he drew them aside.

Amber lay in uneasy sleep, the covers twisted and her hair a tumbled golden cloud spread across the pillows. For an instant Duncan saw her as she had been in the bath, her breasts gilded with water and reflected fire. He had wanted then to be like the fire licking over her.

He still wanted it.

Duncan released the draperies and began stripping off the heavy battle clothes he had worn throughout the day. When he was as naked as a candle flame, he drew back the draperies again and lowered himself into Amber's bed.

Slowly he reached out to touch her. Just before his fingertips brushed her lips, he remembered what had happened in the solar—Amber white with pain, hardly able to stand, and Cassandra's cool words describing what had happened.

She feels your rage. Beating her with a whip would cause less pain.

Yet Amber hadn't flinched the second time Duncan had touched her, when his concern for her pain had been greater than his anger at her betrayal.

For a long time Duncan lay motionless, torn between desire and anger. Instinctively he divided his mind as though Learned, yet without Learned understanding of the danger to himself of what he did. A divided mind would soon curl back upon itself like a leaf shriveled by fire. And like a leaf, the mind would wither and die.

Duncan forced himself to concentrate not on his bleak rage at being betrayed, but rather on his desire. Then he focused on Amber's passion for him, a passion she had never been able to conceal.