Page 66 of Forbidden

Duncan laughed. “Nay, my golden witch. I’m simply a warrior who fights with everything available, including my head.”

Amber started to quarrel about being named a witch before she realized that he had used the term with affection rather than with accusation. When she saw that Duncan was watching her with amusement and approval in his vivid hazel eyes, she decided that she liked being his “golden witch.”

“That’s what Learning is,” Amber said absently. “Using your head.”

“In that event,” Duncan said, looking around the circle of stones, “I learned during the holy crusade what every hound is born knowing—danger has a special scent and feel.”

“I think there is more to it than that.”

“And I think there is less.”

Duncan glanced sideways at Amber. She was watching him with luminous golden eyes and an intensity that made him want to ravish her both tenderly and very thoroughly.

“Come, my amber delight.”

“Ah, so I’m a delight now rather than a witch. You must be Learned!”

The smile Duncan gave Amber was like a caress.

“Delightful witch,” he said in a low voice. “Sit against this stone with me and we’ll argue about what is Learned and what is simply common sense.”

Smiling, Amber answered the tug on her hand by settling into the grass beside Duncan. The stone he had chosen to shelter them from the fitful wind was taller than a man. Its face was seamed by time and salt air. Within blade-thin crevices on the stone’s surface grew gardens so tiny that a man could scarce see the moss bloom.

Yet bloom it certainly did. Growing things thrived on the surface of the stone, weaving a thick, vibrantly colored mantle over much of the ancient monolith.

Amber tested the moss with her fingertips, then closed her eyes and settled back against it with a sigh.

“How long do you think the stones have waited thus?” she murmured.

“Not half so long as I’ve wanted to do this.”

Amber’s eyes opened. Duncan was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath and see the individual splinters of color in his hazel eyes. She drew back slightly, wanting to touch the clean line of his mouth beneath his mustache.

“Nay, lass,” Duncan said. “There is nothing to fear.”

“I know. I just wanted to touch you.”

“Did you? How?”

“Like this.”

Amber’s fingertip traced the rim of Duncan’s upper lip. The keen thrill of pleasure that coursed through him at her touch was as much a reward to Amber as the intimate rush of his breath caressing her fingertips.

“You like that,” she said, delighted at the discovery.

Duncan’s breath caught as another caress skimmed his lip, sending a tongue of fire through him.

“Aye,” he said huskily. “I like that. Do you?”

“Like touching you? Yes. Too much, I fear.”

“There is no place for fear between us.”

The rush of Duncan’s breath was replaced by the smooth heat of his mouth against Amber’s. He felt the hesitation in her.

Then he felt the subtle yielding as she allowed the kiss. His heartbeat speeded as fire searched through his body.

Yet Duncan did no more than increase the pressure of his mouth on hers just a bit. It was barely enough to part Amber’s lips for a skimming caress from the tip of his tongue. But it was enough to make her sigh and yield more of her mouth to the gentle kiss. Again he delicately traced her lips.