his breath and mustache brushed over her sensitive fingers, it gave her a pleasure so great that she trembled.
Amber didn't know that color returned to her face in a rush and that her eyes suddenly burned like candle flames caught within transparent golden gems. Nor did she realize that she leaned toward Duncan with unconscious longing as soon as his touch left her skin.
The fourth knight noticed everything and felt as though someone had slid a knife blade between his legs. Never would he have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.
Long, powerful fingers flexed around the pommel of his sword while black eyes measured Duncan for a shroud.
“I've found two warriors for you, lord,” Alfred said. “He and his squire are on a quest, but he is willing to stay and fight outlaws for a time.”
Erik looked at the fourth knight.
“Two?” Erik said. “I see only one, though God knows he's big enough for two. How are you called?”
“Simon.”
“Simon… I have two men-at-arms with that name.”
Simon nodded. It was hardly an uncommon name.
“Who was your last lord?” Erik asked.
“Robert.”
“There are many Roberts.”
“Aye.”
Erik turned to Alfred. The knight's features were as blunt as a fist, but he was a fine man in a fight.
“Not much for talk, is he?” Erik asked Alfred dryly. “Has he taken a vow?”
“He is talkative enough with that black sword he wears,” Alfred said. “He had Donald and Malcolm on their backs before they knew what happened.”
Erik turned back to Simon.
“Impressive,” Erik said. “Have you been blooded?”
“Aye.”
“Where?”
“In the Holy War.”
Erik nodded, unsurprised. “There is a Saracen look to your blade.”
“It drinks outlaw blood as readily as Turkish,” Simon said calmly.
Erik smiled. “And Norse?”
“The blade cares not.”
“Well, we have outlaws in plenty.”
“You have three less than formerly.”
Tawny eyebrows lifted in a combination of amusement and surprise.
“When?” Erik asked.
“Two days past.”
“Where?”
“Near a lightning-struck tree and a stream coming from a cleft in the mountainside,” Simon said.
“ 'Tis the boundary of Lord Robert's lands,” Erik said.
Simon shrugged. “It looked like no man's land to me.”
“That will change.”
In silence, Erik measured the knight for a long moment, taking in the well-used, well-made clothes and weapons, and the excellent lines of the horse Simon rode.
“Have you armor?” he asked.
“Aye. It is in your keep's armory.” Simon smiled oddly. “It was that which made me stay.”
“The armory? How so?”
“I wanted to know more about a lord who builds a secure well, barracks, and armory before he builds quarters for his own comfort.”
“Your accent tells me you spent time in the Norman lands,” Erik said after a moment.
“ 'Tis hard not to. They rule so much.”
Erik grimaced. “Too much. Why did you leave?”
“The continent is too settled. There is nothing for a landless knight to do but hone his sword and dream of better days.”
Laughing, Erik turned to Alfred and nodded his acceptance of Simon.
''What of the other man?" Erik asked.
“The Norseman is tracking outlaws,” Alfred replied.
“A Norseman?”
“He looks it, though he speaks our language. Pale as a ghost. Called Sven. Fights like a ghost, too. Never seen a man so hard to pin down, except maybe you.”
“He can be a ghost for all of me,” Erik retorted, “so long as he haunts outlaws rather than my vassals.”
Alfred laughed and then nodded toward Duncan.
“I see that I'm not the only one who went fishing for warriors and came up with a prize.”
A glance at Duncan was Erik's only response. Then he looked at Amber. Though he said nothing, she knew him well enough to understand that she wasn't to argue with whatever might happen next.
“He is an unusual man,” Erik said calmly. “Almost a fortnight ago, I found him near Stone King.”
A murmuring
Amber didn't know that color returned to her face in a rush and that her eyes suddenly burned like candle flames caught within transparent golden gems. Nor did she realize that she leaned toward Duncan with unconscious longing as soon as his touch left her skin.
The fourth knight noticed everything and felt as though someone had slid a knife blade between his legs. Never would he have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.
Long, powerful fingers flexed around the pommel of his sword while black eyes measured Duncan for a shroud.
“I've found two warriors for you, lord,” Alfred said. “He and his squire are on a quest, but he is willing to stay and fight outlaws for a time.”
Erik looked at the fourth knight.
“Two?” Erik said. “I see only one, though God knows he's big enough for two. How are you called?”
“Simon.”
“Simon… I have two men-at-arms with that name.”
Simon nodded. It was hardly an uncommon name.
“Who was your last lord?” Erik asked.
“Robert.”
“There are many Roberts.”
“Aye.”
Erik turned to Alfred. The knight's features were as blunt as a fist, but he was a fine man in a fight.
“Not much for talk, is he?” Erik asked Alfred dryly. “Has he taken a vow?”
“He is talkative enough with that black sword he wears,” Alfred said. “He had Donald and Malcolm on their backs before they knew what happened.”
Erik turned back to Simon.
“Impressive,” Erik said. “Have you been blooded?”
“Aye.”
“Where?”
“In the Holy War.”
Erik nodded, unsurprised. “There is a Saracen look to your blade.”
“It drinks outlaw blood as readily as Turkish,” Simon said calmly.
Erik smiled. “And Norse?”
“The blade cares not.”
“Well, we have outlaws in plenty.”
“You have three less than formerly.”
Tawny eyebrows lifted in a combination of amusement and surprise.
“When?” Erik asked.
“Two days past.”
“Where?”
“Near a lightning-struck tree and a stream coming from a cleft in the mountainside,” Simon said.
“ 'Tis the boundary of Lord Robert's lands,” Erik said.
Simon shrugged. “It looked like no man's land to me.”
“That will change.”
In silence, Erik measured the knight for a long moment, taking in the well-used, well-made clothes and weapons, and the excellent lines of the horse Simon rode.
“Have you armor?” he asked.
“Aye. It is in your keep's armory.” Simon smiled oddly. “It was that which made me stay.”
“The armory? How so?”
“I wanted to know more about a lord who builds a secure well, barracks, and armory before he builds quarters for his own comfort.”
“Your accent tells me you spent time in the Norman lands,” Erik said after a moment.
“ 'Tis hard not to. They rule so much.”
Erik grimaced. “Too much. Why did you leave?”
“The continent is too settled. There is nothing for a landless knight to do but hone his sword and dream of better days.”
Laughing, Erik turned to Alfred and nodded his acceptance of Simon.
''What of the other man?" Erik asked.
“The Norseman is tracking outlaws,” Alfred replied.
“A Norseman?”
“He looks it, though he speaks our language. Pale as a ghost. Called Sven. Fights like a ghost, too. Never seen a man so hard to pin down, except maybe you.”
“He can be a ghost for all of me,” Erik retorted, “so long as he haunts outlaws rather than my vassals.”
Alfred laughed and then nodded toward Duncan.
“I see that I'm not the only one who went fishing for warriors and came up with a prize.”
A glance at Duncan was Erik's only response. Then he looked at Amber. Though he said nothing, she knew him well enough to understand that she wasn't to argue with whatever might happen next.
“He is an unusual man,” Erik said calmly. “Almost a fortnight ago, I found him near Stone King.”
A murmuring
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