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Abruptly, fear replaced pain in Cassandra.

He knows. By all that's Learned, he knows!

Is that why he risked so much? Is he trying to repay her for what was taken from her at her birth?

No answer came from within the well of serenity that held Cassandra's Learning.

“Will you give me your good wishes?” Amber asked, turning to Cassandra.

“You are my daughter in every way that matters,” Cassandra said. “I would give you Paradise if I could.”

Smiling, Amber glanced at her husband from beneath her long lashes. Though she said nothing, the fire reflected in Duncan's eyes burned higher.

“Thank you,” Amber said, looking at Cassandra again. “Your good wishes mean a great deal to me. I love you as a daughter would.”

With her free hand. Amber touched the other woman's cheek. The murmur of surprise was repeated throughout the gathered knights and ladies. Despite the clear affection between Amber, Erik, and Cassandra, never had the people of the keep seen Amber touch the lord or the Learned woman.

Tears glittered once more in Cassandra's eyes. She turned to look long and hard at the dark warrior whose fingers were interlaced with Amber's.

“You have been given a gift beyond price” Cassandra said distinctly. “Few men are privileged to know its like.”

The splinters of darkness that lay deep within the clarity of Cassandra's eyes made coolness ripple down Duncan's spine. His instincts stirred, warning him that danger lay within this woman as surely as night lay within sunset's vivid colors.

Then realization came. It wasn't menace that lay darkly within Cassandra. It was knowledge.

And it was dangerous.

“May I embrace the husband of my daughter?” Cassandra asked.

If Duncan was surprised, the rest of the people were shocked, including Erik.

“Of course,” Duncan said.

Cassandra stepped forward. Full scarlet sleeves rippled and flared over the forest green of Duncan's shirt as she placed her hands on his shoulders. Though Cassandra was a tall woman, she had to stretch on tiptoe in order to bring her face close to Duncan.

“This is the truth of the past,” Cassandra said, kissing his left cheek.

A moment later she kissed his right cheek.

“This is the truth of the present,” she said.

Then Cassandra's palms rested on Duncan's cheeks, holding him as surely as chains.

“Your life lies stretched between past and present,” she said in a low, distinct voice.

Intently Duncan watched the Learned woman, feeling her cool hands like brands on his face while her silver eyes compelled everything within him to listen to her. Even the shadows.

Especially the shadows.

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

A ripple of movement went through the knights as they crossed themselves.

“Remember what I have said when the past returns and seems to make a lie of the present,” Cassandra commanded. “Remember it.”

When she would have withdrawn, Duncan's hand chained one of her wrists.

Instantly Erik stepped forward, only to be warned off by a glance from clear silver eyes.

“What do you know of my past?” Duncan asked in a low voice.

“Nothing that would bring you ease.”

Duncan glanced toward Amber. Though he said not one word, she put her hand on Cassandra's captive arm.

“What do you know of my past?” Duncan demanded again, softly.

“Nothing that would bring you ease,” Cassandra repeated.

Duncan waited.

“She speaks the truth,” Amber said.

Duncan's hand opened, freeing Cassandra.

The smile she gave him was both compassionate and coolly amused at his arrogance in questioning a wise woman's honesty.

“You are canny to listen to your wife,” Cassandra said bitingly. “See that you remain so when past and present are both known.”

Cassandra looked at Erik.

“With your permission, lord,” she said, “I have a newly born babe who needs me more than a newly wed couple.”

“Of course. Learned one,” Erik said. “You need not ask my permission.”

“Ah, but I enjoy doing so.”

“Do you?”

“But of course,” Cassandra said dryly. “ Tis the only time you listen to me.”

Laughter rose like a shout, for it was well known among the knights that their young lord was as headstrong as an unbroken stallion. Erik laughed the loudest of them all, for he knew himself better than they did.

Under cover of the laughter, Duncan bent down and spoke for Amber alone.

“Do you know what Cassandra knows?” he asked.

“Of your past?”

“Yes.”

“I know that she is rarely wrong.”

“Meaning?” Duncan asked.

“Meaning there is nothing in your past that will make you happy in the present.”

“Are you certain?”

“Ask yourself, not me,” she said.

“But I know nothing.”

“Nor do you wish to. Not now. Not when you are married.”

Duncan's eyes narrowed. But before he could speak. Amber did.

“Do you want to spend your wedding night asking questions whose answers are sure to make you unhappy?” she asked.

“Are they?”

“Aye.”

The bleak certainty in Amber's eyes sent another wave of coolness washing over Duncan's spine.

“Amber?”

She put her fingertips over his lips, sealing in all the questions he hadn't asked and she didn't want to answer.

“Instead of asking questions neither of us wants to hear,” Amber whispered, “wouldn't you rather take your bride to the privacy of the bedchamber and begin our future?”

WHEN Duncan led Amber into the room that had been hastily, yet thoroughly, arrayed for their wedding night, she made a sound of pleasure and surprise.

“It is quite wonderful,” she said.

The chamber had been built for the lady of the keep and never occupied, for Erik had yet to take a wife. The exotic fragrance of myrrh pervaded the room, rising from the oil lamps whose bright, unwavering flames turned darkness into golden light. The hearth along the far wall burned with wood so hard and dry that there was barely any smoke to curl upward into the clever, narrow vent behind the logs.

“And quite grand!” Amber added.

Laughing, she turned around swiftly, making her gold dress lift and ripple as though alive.

With an effort, Duncan didn't reach out to the graceful amber girl who burned more brightly in his blood than any fire. He knew he shouldn't look at her, much less gather her close and bury his hard flesh within her softness again.

It was too soon. He was too harsh, too much a warrior for Amber's delicate flesh to take. If he took her again, and again saw her blood bright on his body, he didn't know what he would do. Duncan's silence and grim expression dimmed Amber's pleasure in the luxurious room.

“Do you dislike it?” she asked anxiously, waving her hand around.

“No.”

“You look so harsh. Is it… are you remembering?”

“Aye.”

A lance of fear impaled Amber.

It is too soon! If he remembers now, all will be lost.

And I will be lost with it.

“What are you remembering?” she asked in a low voice.

“The sight of your blood on my body.”

Her relief was so great that Amber felt dizzy.

“Oh, that,” she said. “It was nothing.”

“It was your maidenhead!”

“I've given more blood to a leech,” Amber said, smiling as she remembered Duncan's dismissal of his own wound. “And so have you, dark warrior. You told me so yourself.”

Unwillingly, Duncan smiled in return. Saying nothing, he looked around the room, but his eyes kept returning to the marriage bed.

It was big enough for a man of Duncan's size— or Erik's. The bed was canopied and curtained with rich cloth in shades of gold, green, and indigo. A luxurious fur blanket lay over sheets of linen so fine that they were softer than the down that filled the mattress. The border of lace on the sheets was extraordinarily fine, as though countless snow-flakes had been woven into a pattern that no hearth fire could melt.

“Have you ever seen such finery?” Amber asked, noting that Duncan was looking at the bed.

The instant the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to call them back. The last thing she wished to discuss now was Duncan's memory.

Or lack of it.

“ 'Tis very rich,” Duncan agreed. “Erik is a generous lord. This room is more suited to the lord's quarters than to those of his seneschal.”

“Erik is pleased by our marriage.”

“Aye. 'Tis a good thing.”

“Why?” she asked, startled by the thread of steel in Duncan's voice.

“Because I would have married you with or without his leave, with or without my vow concerning your maidenhead. And he knew it. He could fight me or he could give you into my care.”

Duncan turned away from the bed in time to see the stricken look on Amber's face. The pallor of her skin was such that not even golden lamplight could disguise it.

“You must not even think of fighting Erik,” she said.

“Do you believe me such a poor warrior, then?”

“Nay!”

Eyes narrowed, Duncan waited.

“I love both of you,” Amber said. “If you fought one another—nay! It must never happen!”

Duncan closed the distance between himself and his bride with a swiftness that was startling. He stood so near that he could smell the unique fragrance of resin and roses that was hers alone.

“What did you say?” he asked in a deep voice.

“If you fought—”

“No,” Duncan interrupted. “Before that.”

“I love both of you.”

“Closer, but not quite.”

For an instant Amber was confused. Then she understood.

“I love Erik,” she said, hiding her smile.

Duncan grunted.

“And,” she whispered, “I love you, dark warrior. I love you so much I am full to overflowing with it.”

The smile Duncan gave Amber made her knees weaken. He lifted her up in his arms, hugging her close. The relief that swept through her was her own and his combined.

But the surprise her words had caused was Duncan's alone.

Amber pulled back far enough to see his eyes. “Why are you surprised?”

“I didn't think an innocent maid could love a man who was so clumsy with her body” Duncan said.

“You aren't clumsy.”

“I was a rut—”

Whatever he had meant to say was lost in the sudden pressure of Amber's mouth over his.

The fierce, unschooled kiss sent a torrent of fire through Duncan. For a hungry instant he permitted the sweet taste of Amber to fill his senses. Then he gently, implacably, separated his mouth from hers.

“Duncan?” Amber asked. “Don't you want me?”

He let out a harsh breath.

“You're touching me,” Duncan said ironically. “You tell me. Do I want you?”

Amber closed her eyes as she felt the desire in him drench her senses.

“Aye,” she whispered. “It is a river of fire pouring through me.”

Duncan's eyes closed as a shudder of response shot through his whole body.

“Yes,” he said roughly. “A river of fire.”

His eyes opened, but even before Amber saw their darkness, she felt his icy restraint freezing the hot flames of desire.

“And you,” Duncan said, “are a delicate amber fairy who hasn't even healed from the first time I held you down and ripped through your maidenhead.”

“It wasn't like that!” Amber protested. “You didn't force me to—”

“I know what I did and didn't do,” Duncan interrupted ruthlessly. “God's blood, my palms can still feel the heat and softness of your thighs as I spread them and thrust into you as though you were an enemy to be killed.”

“Stop! I wanted you just as much as you wanted me. Why can't you believe that?”

Duncan's laugh was as rough as his eyes were bleak.

“Why? Because I've never wanted a woman like that. I didn't even know such passion was in me! How could an innocent feel anything close to it?”

“Duncan,” Amber said, kissing his chin. “When I touch you, I feel what you feel.”

Her teeth closed delicately on his neck.

“Dear God, yes,” she whispered. “I feel your breath break even as I hear it. I feel your heartbeat speed. I feel your blood rushing and quickening your flesh, making you ready to lie within me.”

With a groan, Duncan pushed away the fine cowl that framed Amber's face. He fitted his hands against Amber's cheeks, savoring the smooth, soft heat of her skin.

The leap of his hunger was like wine to Amber. While she shivered beneath the claiming of his hands, her soft words incited him, pouring fire over him even as the heat of his desire poured over her.

“I can feel your hunger gathering like a storm,” she whispered. “I can't feel the sword emerging from its sheath, but I can sense you feeling your own maleness sweep through you.”

“Amber,” Duncan-said hoarsely.

“And I can feel my own body crying out to know the sweet stabbing of the sword within the sheath.”

“No more, witch,” Duncan said heavily. “You have me full to bursting already.”

“I know.”

A look into the golden fire of Amber's eyes told Duncan that she did indeed know what her words had done to him.

And she liked it.

“Can I undo you with only my words?” Amber asked.

The combination of curiosity and sensuality in her eyes almost pushed Duncan over the edge.

“Enough,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“Why?”

“ Tis unseemly for a man to lose control.”

“Even in the marriage bed?”

“We're not in bed,” he retorted.

“Aye. And you have no intention of lying there with me, do you?”

“ Tis too soon.”

“ Tis a great pot of slops!” Amber retorted. “Well, sir, if you won't take me, I shall just have to take you.”

Duncan gave Amber a shocked look. Then he laughed at the thought of such a slender girl physically besting a man of his size and strength.

“Are you going to hold me down and ravish me, little fairy?”

“I don't think you would lie still for it.”

“Not tonight,” he agreed. “But the thought appeals.”

“ 'Tis deeds I want, not thoughts. As I am weaker than you, I must use the only weapon I have to ravish you.”

“And that is?”

“My tongue.”

The surge of fire that hardened Duncan's whole body was transmitted to Amber so clearly that she stiffened as though a whip had been laid across her back. An image condensed in her mind, a beautiful girl whose golden hair seethed in a fragrant, burning cloud over Duncan's loins as her tongue brushed fire over his rigid sword.

“Ah,” Amber said. “Does my hair truly bum you so sweetly? Then I give it to you, husband.”

Before Duncan could say anything, her hands lifted quickly and bright combs scattered to the floor.  Knowing he shouldn't, unable to stop himself, Duncan thrust his hands deeply into Amber's hair until cool, soft strands caressed the sensitive skin between his fingers.

A shiver of pure pleasure cascaded through Amber. Watching Duncan's eyes, she moved her head slowly, increasing the beloved pressure of his hands.

“Do you like that,” he asked, “or is it my pleasure you're responding to?”

“Both,” she said huskily. “I like your hands caressing me. I like knowing that caressing me gives you pleasure.”

“Amber…” Duncan said, but he could say no more.

“Would it truly give you such great pleasure to feel my tongue tracing your sword?”

Duncan's hands clenched in Amber's hair. It would have been painful to her had she not felt his violent response to her words burn through her like wildfire.

“You are unraveling me,” he said hoarsely. “Where did an innocent like you learn the tricks of the harem?”

“From you.”

“Nay. I've never known a woman's mouth in that way.”

“Yet when I said I would ravish you with my tongue, you saw my hair all wild over your naked loins and my tongue was a pink flame licking over you.”

The desire that hammered through Duncan nearly brought both of them to their knees.

“Amber, you must stop!”

The roughness in Duncan's voice was another rush of desire through her.

“Nay,” she whispered. “I find I am most curious to know what it is like to ravish you with my tongue. And, perhaps, my teeth?”

Duncan groaned and his fingers clenched again.

Amber made a ragged sound of pleasure as her words returned to her in an outpouring of his passion.

“Don't say such things,” he muttered. “You will make me lose all control.”

“But I like feeling fire sweep through you.”

Abruptly, Duncan let go of Amber and stepped back so that he wasn't touching her.

“That's just it,” he said, his voice tight. “The fire is going through me, not you.”

The lack of Duncan's touch was like being dropped into an icy stream. Amber staggered, off-balance, lost.

“Duncan?” she said, reaching for him

“No,” he said, stepping back even farther.

“I don't understand.”

“Exactly. All you have ever known is a warrior's hunger hammering you until you bled. You've never known your own sweet desire.”

“That's not true. Your desire and mine are different faces of the same coin.”

Duncan raked his hand through his hair, then unfastened his rich mantle and tossed it aside.

“No,” he said, turning back to her. “My desire drowns yours. It would be the same for you with any man.”

At first Amber didn't understand.

When she did, she was furious. Her eyes narrowed to slits.

“You believe I have no passion that isn't secondhand, is that it?” she asked carefully.

He nodded.

“You believe that any man who touched me with passion would set fire to me.”

Duncan hesitated, then nodded again.

“You shame both of us,” Amber said icily, making no attempt to conceal her rage.

He started to speak, but she overrode him, clipping each word as though it were thread in a finished weaving.

“Thrice in my life I have felt a man's passion. The first time I ran like a deer until I was safe. Then I knelt and vomited until I was too weak to stand.”

“How old were you?”

“Nine.”

Duncan said something vile beneath his breath.

“At that age, you were too young to respond to passion,” he said. “But now that you are old enough—”

“The second time,” Amber interrupted, “I was nineteen. More than old enough to respond to passion, wouldn't you agree?”

Duncan shrugged.

“Wouldn't you agree?” she persisted.

“Yes,” he said, his voice harsh. “And you did, didn't you?”

“Respond with passion?”

He nodded curtly.

“Oh, yes,” Amber said. “I was consumed by passion—”

Duncan's mouth flattened.

“—if you concede that anger and loathing are passions,” she said sardonically. “I drew my dagger, stabbed the hand that was groping under my skirt, and ran until I was safe. Then I vomited until I was too weak to swallow.”

“Who were those animals?” Duncan demanded.

“The third time I felt a man's passion,” Amber continued, ignoring Duncan's question, “a stranger's hand was tangled in my hair and chills of golden pleasure coursed through me.”

“A stranger?”

“You.”

“I don't understand” Duncan said.

“Neither do I, but 'tis true just the same. The first time I touched you, I felt a pleasure so keen that I cried out.”

“It was my desire you were feeling, not your own.”

“You were senseless at the time,” Amber retorted.

Duncan's eyes widened. The reflected leap of candle flame made them appear almost as golden as Amber's eyes.

“What are you saying?” he whispered.

“I touched you, I knew you, and I wanted you. You were senseless, knowing nothing, remembering nothing, and fire curled through me when I ran my hands over your chest.”