Page 131 of Forbidden

“You are perfect,” Duncan said hoarsely. “God help me, I want you more than I want anything, even my own memory.”

Then he could endure no more. With a groan of surrender, he let go his savage restraint and poured himself into the amber witch whose passionate depths matched his so completely.

15

FULLYdressed for battle, Simon rode his huge war stallion up to Blackthorne Keep at a swift canter. On one side of him rode another knight in chain mail and battle helm. On Simon’s other side he led a dark brown stallion that was fully as big as his own mount.

The brown stallion was riderless, his saddle empty of all but a sheathed broadsword and a long, teardrop-shaped shield. On the shield was a drawing of a black wolf’s head, sign of Dominic le Sabre, the Glendruid Wolf.

All around horses and men swirled the cold, silent mists of autumn. The horses thundered over the lowered drawbridge that opened into Blackthorne Keep’s inner bailey. Moments later cobblestones rang beneath the three stallions’ steel-shod hooves.

A woman appeared at the forebuilding’s stairs, looking anxiously toward the bailey. When she saw the riderless stallion, she picked up her rich green skirts and raced down the steps. Her cowl slipped off, revealing hair as red as flame, and like flame, her hair lifted on the wind as she ran across the bailey.

Heedless of the danger of being trampled, she went right up to the horses. With each rapid motion of her body, the tiny golden bells she wore shivered and sang.

“Simon!” she cried. “Where is Duncan? What has happened? Why do you have his war-horse?”

Simon’s stallion half reared as his rider pulled hard on the reins.

“Stay back, Meg!” Simon commanded. “If one of the horses steps on you, Dominic will have my head.”

“I’ll have more than that,” said a voice from the direction of the gatehouse. “I’ll have your heart on a roasting spit.”

Simon turned and saw his brother striding across the cobblestones.

Dominic’s mantle was long, as black as his hair, and devoid of any decoration save the large silver pin that secured the heavy cloth. Nor was more decoration needed to proclaim Dominic’s status. The pin was solid silver, shaped like a wolf’s head, and had uncanny crystal eyes that looked out on the world with ancient knowledge.

Wolf of Glendruid, lost for a thousand years, then found and given to a warrior who was not of the Glendruid clan.

Dominic walked past the restive stallions until he could stand between them and his wife. Only when Meg was safe did Dominic turn and address Simon.

“Is Duncan alive?” Dominic asked bluntly.

“Yes.”

Meg closed her eyes and said a prayer of thanks as Dominic’s arm went around her. He pulled her close and murmured something against her hair. She moved closer still, accepting her husband’s support.

“Is Duncan injured?” Dominic asked.

“Yes. And no.”

Silver eyes narrowed as Dominic measured the suppressed emotion vibrating within Simon.

Eyes of Glendruid green also studied Simon, for Meg had sensed the hatred that seethed beneath his outward calm. She had not seen him like this since he had accused her of poisoning Dominic shortly after their marriage.

Dominic turned and looked at the second knight. His helm concealed his fair hair, but not the winter paleness of his eyes. A slight motion of Sven’s head confirmed what Dominic already suspected.

No more should be said about Duncan of Maxwell where all ears could overhear.

“Come into the solar,” Dominic said.

A gesture from Dominic sent several grooms hurrying across the bailey to take the horses. A word to one of the squires who hovered in the background sent the boy running to another quarter of the bailey to have food brought from the kitchen.

No one spoke again until the privacy of the lord’s solar was reached. After mist-drenched mantles were removed and hung to dry, Dominic turned to his brother.

“Tell me how it goes with Duncan.”

“He has been bewitched,” Simon said flatly.