By Elizabeth Lowell
They name her ''Amber the Untouched'' during the Disputed Lands -- a chaste, golden-haired attractiveness who fears the amazing love that was once prophesied at her delivery . . . and the loss of life that needs to necessarily stick with. Now Duncan has come to her in darkness, as was once foretold -- a wounded warrior with out reminiscence, seared via passion's fireplace and irresistibly attracted to the blameless enchantress who divines fact with a slightly. Their romance is legend in a time of warfare. but if Duncan's reminiscence returns, he sees Amber as his enemy. nonetheless, he can't forsake the sweetheart who healed his physique and middle. And he'll defy to the dying the dread forces that experience proclaimed their love . . .
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His smiled. “Thank you. ” 40 / ELIZABETH LOWELL Amber laughed despite trying not to. ” he asked. Her amusement faded. ” The falcon’s wings flared in swift reflection of its master’s irritation. ” asked Erik in a clipped voice. ” “He doesn’t know,” she said. ” “God’s wounds,” Erik hissed. ” “Nay! ” Amber took a deep breath and nodded slightly. ” Erik pressed. “When he tries to remember, there is confusion. ” “It could be,” she said. Erik’s eyes narrowed into amber slits. ” he asked after a moment.
Grabbing a comb made of rowan wood set with orange amber, she hurried over to the stranger’s bed. A brief touch told her that he was still swimming like a trout beneath the surface of unnatural sleep. And like a trout, he was struggling to rise toward the gleaming lure of the sun. Amber shook him lightly. There was no response other than a muttering that had no meaning. She stood next to the bed and combed tangles from her long golden hair while she watched him anxiously. “You are closer to the sunlight with each heart-beat,” she said hopefully.
With an impatient sound, she swept the long mass back over her shoulders, only to have a handful escape once more. “You hair is like amber,” Duncan said, stroking a soft lock. ” he asked, smiling slowly. Amber’s breath caught. Duncan had a smile to melt sleet and call meadowlarks from a midnight sky. “No,” she said with a soft laugh, shaking her head. ” “Amber…” Duncan looked from her long hair to her luminous golden eyes. “Yes,” he said. ” Duncan released the silky strand of hair, stroked her wrist, and let his hand settle onto the thick fur cover.