Read Beneath a Midnight Moon Online
Authors: Amanda Ashley
Beneath a Midnight Moon (13 page)
“We have a visitor, milord,” Parah said, his words tumbling forth in a rush. “A most auspicious visitor.”
Lord Kray sat forward expectantly. “Who is it?”
Parah took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out in a long, slow sigh, as if he relished the moment of drama and hated to see it end.
“Parah . . .” Lord Kray’s voice spoke of his growing impatience.
“Lord Carrick’s seventh daughter.”
Sharilyn and Lord Kray exchanged astonished glances, and then Sharilyn looked at Hardane, who was frowning.
Kylene sat motionless, her face drained of color.
“Show her in,” Lord Kray commanded.
The air in the dining hall seemed to crackle with expectation as they awaited the arrival of Lord Carrick’s daughter.
Kylene felt as if someone had drained the very life from her limbs. She looked at Hardane, and even as her eyes moved lovingly over him, it seemed to her that he was moving farther and farther away even though he remained seated beside her.
In moments, a lady swept into the room, her bearing regal in spite of her tattered gown.
Kylene gasped as she stared into the woman’s face. It was like looking into a mirror.
“May I introduce the Lady Selene,” Parah said in his most formal voice.
There was a long moment while everyone in the room looked from Selene to Kylene and back again.
Lord Kray recovered first. “Welcome, Lady Selene,” he said, rising to his feet. Crossing the room, he extended his hand.
“Thank you, my lord,” Selene replied, dropping a proper curtsey.
“This is my wife, Lady Sharilyn, and my son, Hardane. And this,” he said, gesturing at Kylene, “can only be your sister.”
“Yes, Kylene,” Selene murmured. She stared at her twin for a long moment and then, as if suddenly remembering where she was, she bowed to Sharilyn, then turned the full warmth of her smile on Hardane.
“Twins,” Hardane said, glancing from one to the other.
“Yes,” Selene said. “Won’t you embrace me, sister?” she asked, and held out her arms.
Still stunned at the realization that she had a sister, Kylene crossed the room. For a moment, she stared into Selene’s eyes, eyes so like her own, and then she put her arms around her sister. She felt no warmth in the gesture, no sense of unity, of kinship.
And then Selene was hugging her back, and for a moment Kylene felt as if she were trapped in a dark cave.
With a start, Kylene dropped her arms to her sides and stepped away. She saw Sharilyn and Lord Kray smiling at the two of them, obviously touched by what looked like a warm reunion. Kylene frowned. Had she imagined the sense of darkness that had swept over her? She glanced at Hardane, wondering if he’d been aware of it, but his expression was closed to her.
Selene felt a sense of relief as the contact was broken. Turning away from her sister, she smiled at the man she intended to marry. He was more handsome than she had dared hope. Tall and broad-shouldered, he exuded the kind of raw masculinity that was impossible to ignore.
“Selene, won’t you please sit down,” Sharilyn invited, gesturing at the chair beside her.
“Thank you.” Selene sat down and folded her hands in her lap. It was said that the Lady Sharilyn was descended from the Wolffan, but now, looking at the petite woman, Selene dismissed what she’d heard as scullery gossip.
But it was Hardane who held her gaze. “My lord,” she murmured. “I hope you will forgive me for arriving without an invitation.”
Hardane nodded. For the moment, he seemed incapable of speech as he glanced from Kylene to Selene and back again, wondering if he had imagined the dark pall that had seemed to engulf Kylene when she embraced her sister. Her twin sister. For some inexplicable reason, his shade had been received by the wrong woman.
“You’re welcome here, of course,” Lord Kray said, frowning at his son’s rudeness. “Tell me, where is your father?”
Selene squeezed a tear from her eye. “He has passed on, milord. I came here unbidden as I had nowhere else to go.”
“I’m sorry,” Lord Kray replied. “Carrick of Mouldour was an honorable man. In another time and place, we might have been friends.”
Hardane leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied the woman who was destined to be his bride. “How is it that you and your sister were separated?”
“I hesitate to say, since it makes my father sound quite cruel, but he decided that since I was the eldest, and betrothed to wed into the House of Argone, he would send Kylene to live with the Sisterhood. By so doing, he could enlarge my dowry.”
Selene glanced at Kylene, hoping to see the effect of her words, but Kylene’s face remained expressionless.
Hardane nodded. It was a common practice for the second sons of the Mouldourian nobility to be given to the church, since they had little hope of inheriting their father’s lands. He had not been aware that the custom pertained to women, as well.
Selene smiled benignly. “I am glad to see you again at last, sister. Our father spoke of you often.” Too often, she thought bitterly. But all that was over now. She would soon have everything she deserved.
“I am surprised to meet you,” Kylene said, her voice curiously flat. “How did our father die?”
“Of a fever. We have been in hiding for quite some time, trying to elude Bourke’s men. It was Father’s hope to regain his throne, but it was not to be. The Lord High Interrogator executed all those who tried to come to our aid, until our people feared to help us.”
Kylene shivered at the mention of the Interrogator. She could well imagine his evil influence striking terror into the hearts of any who opposed him. It occurred to her suddenly that Bourke was her uncle, that her father was dead, that her sister, a sister she had no memory of, was the woman who was rightfully betrothed to Hardane. She felt a curious emptiness inside, a disappointment that she could summon no sense of love or affection for the woman who was her kin, only soul-shattering envy.
Kylene stood abruptly, her legs trembling. “If you’ll excuse me, Lord Kray, I should like to go to my room. I’m sure Lord Hardane and my sister have much to discuss, and I . . . I . . .” She sent a pleading glance at Lord Kray. “Milord?”
His eyes were kind as he said, “You have my leave to retire, Lady Kylene.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, and hurried from the dining hall. Only when she reached the safety of her own room did she let the tears fall.
Chapter 21
For Hardane, the rest of the day passed in a blur, as if he were seeing it all through a layer of gauze. Selene was given a chance to refresh herself and then, clad in a clean gown of rose-colored silk, she joined the family in the informal sitting room.
Now, two hours after Selene’s arrival, Hardane sat beside the fireplace, listening impassively as his mother and Selene talked of the coming wedding. Lord Kray managed to sneak in a few questions about Carrick, about Bourke, about current conditions in Mouldour. Of her own accord, Selene spoke little of her father, his death, or the hardships they had endured since Bourke assumed the throne. She answered Kray’s questions, but that was all.
Hardane felt an emptiness inside, a sense that Fate had taken control of his life. His betrothed was seated across from him, the very image of the woman he loved, but he felt nothing for her. Her hair was the same color as Kylene’s, yet the red seemed to lack the fire that blazed in Kylene’s tresses. Her eyes were the same shade of brown, yet Kylene’s were as warm as sun-kissed earth, and Selene’s seemed as cold as frozen ground. When she smiled at him, he felt nothing. How was he to bed her, to breed her, when he felt no warmth, no desire?
At length, Selene commented that she was weary and begged to be excused. Apologizing for her endless chatter, Sharilyn escorted Selene to the living quarters upstairs, summoning one of Hadj’s cousins to look after Selene’s needs, telling Selene to be at ease, assuring her that Castle Argone was her home now.
Hardane stared into the fire. Was it only this morning that he’d promised Kylene that she’d never return to the Sisterhood, that she would be his, that he would never let her go?
He heaved a sigh. The responsibility of his birthright weighed heavily on his shoulders. He was betrothed to Selene, had been pledged to take her to wife since the day of her birth. In spite of what he felt for Kylene, in spite of the promises he had made her—promises he’d had no right to make—he knew he would do what was expected of him. He would wed Selene so that their sons might bring peace to the war-weary lands of Argone and Mouldour.
Because he was an honorable man, he could not ask Kylene to be his concubine, though it would be within his right to do so when he took the throne.
Because he was an honorable man, because Kylene meant more to him than his own life, he would send her away from him. Better the pain of a clean break than the torment of seeing her each day and knowing she would never be his.
How could he send her away? How could he face the future, knowing he would never see her again?
Why did he have no bond with Selene, who was his rightful bride? Unless she was not meant to be his bride at all. But she was Carrick’s seventh daughter . . .
He closed his eyes, his head pounding.
“What troubles you, my son?”
Hardane met his father’s gaze. “Nothing. Everything. I do not wish to wed Selene.”
Lord Kray released a deep sigh. “Sometimes it isn’t easy to do what’s expected, what’s required. Sometimes one has to put the welfare of the many over the desires of one’s own heart.”
“It was a pledge made long ago,” Hardane muttered. “Who knows if the prophesy is true? Perhaps there will never be peace between Mouldour and Argone. Perhaps, if it’s meant to be, peace will be achieved no matter who I marry.”
“Perhaps.”
“I want Kylene for my wife. I’ve lived like a eunuch my whole life, Father. When I finally bed a woman, I wish it to be one of my own choosing, one who fires my blood.”
“That’s how the feud between our countries started in the first place,” Kray reminded his son.
“Then let it continue!” Too restless to remain seated any longer, Hardane stood up and paced the floor. “Who’s to be offended? Her parents are dead. Her sisters have allied themselves to foreign nobles.”
“What of my honor? I pledged my word that you would marry Lord Carrick’s seventh daughter. Whether you find her desirable or not, she is still your betrothed. Would you shame her?”
“Won’t having a husband who despises her bring her a greater, more lasting shame?”
Lord Kray shrugged. “Perhaps we should ask the lady in question.”
Hardane came to stand in front of his father. “And if she agrees to release me from my vow?”
“I shall discuss it with your mother and with Druidia.”
Hardane nodded. It wasn’t much to hang on to, but at the moment it was all he had.
Kylene spent the day in the safety of her room. Lying on her bed, she stared up at the ceiling. She had a sister. All this time, she’d had a twin sister she hadn’t known existed.
And that sister was betrothed to the man she loved.
It had been Selene the Interrogator was looking for. Selene who should have received Hardane’s
tashada
in her dreams. Selene who would be his wife, bear his children, share his throne, his joys, and his sorrows.
tashada
in her dreams. Selene who would be his wife, bear his children, share his throne, his joys, and his sorrows.
Tears burned her eyes and she let them fall freely, hoping they would ease the ache in her heart, knowing they would not. She loved Hardane of Argone with every fiber of her being, and she would never love again. She could not return to the Bourne Sisterhouse. It was unlikely that she would be able to return to the Sisterhood at Mouldour, but there were other empires, and other abbeys. She would ask to be sent to Bierly or Dunsmere. Both had large cloisters. Perhaps one of them could find a place for her.
But the thought of spending the rest of her life in selfless service to others no longer had the power to soothe her.
Glancing outside, she was surprised to see that night had fallen. When Hadj came to the door to tell her dinner was ready, Kylene pleaded a headache and begged to be excused.
Returning to her bed, she closed her eyes and sought to calm her troubled spirit by thinking of the vows she had made at the Motherhouse in Mouldour. But she no longer wanted to live a life of poverty, chastity, and obedience. She wanted to be Hardane’s wife, to spend her nights in his arms, to spend her days surrounded by their children. How could she hope to lock herself behind high stone walls when her heart would ever be here, in Argone?
Soft clouds scudded across the sky as she made her way out of the castle into the welcome darkness of evening. The air was fragrant with the scent of night-blooming flowers, the grass damp beneath her bare feet as she walked to the small lake behind the castle and sat down on the stone bench. It was peaceful here, quiet. She stared at her reflection in the still water, gasped as a man suddenly appeared behind her.
“Hardane.”
There was a world of longing, of sadness, in her voice.
“Lady.” His hands caressed her shoulders, his thumbs lightly massaging the sensitive skin along her nape.
Ah, she thought, the magic in his touch. She tilted her head back and he bent forward to kiss her, his mouth covering hers. Somehow, he was on the bench beside her and she was in his arms. Her lips parted under his and she moaned softly as the latent fires between them burst into glorious flame.
He groaned her name, his hands moving restlessly over her back, and she pressed herself to him, wanting to be closer still.
And then, somehow, she was standing beside the lake, watching, and it was Selene in Hardane’s arms, Selene’s name that rumbled in his throat, Selene’s hands twined in his hair.
“No!” She screamed the word, the sense of hurt and betrayal sharper than a dagger in her breast.
“No!” She cried the word again, and woke with the sound of her own voice echoing in her ears.
It had only been a dream, she thought, and then she frowned. Perhaps it hadn’t been a dream, at all, but a vision of what was to come.
Rising, she bathed and changed her gown and then, reluctantly, made her way downstairs toward the dining hall. She heard a babble of excited voices as she approached the room, stared in wonder at the gathering that met her eyes.
Besides Hardane and Lord Kray, there were six men in the room, all talking and gesturing at once, their voices echoing off the walls like thunder.
Sharilyn sat at the foot of the long trestle table, her eyes glowing as she gazed at each man.
They could only be Hardane’s brothers, Kylene thought. All had the same long black hair, the same tawny skin. But none were quite as tall, quite as handsome. And none had his eyes.
Hardane saw her then, his face lighting with a smile that was hers alone. “Kylene,” he said, his voice warm with affection, “come and meet my brothers.”
Feeling like a dwarf among giants, she crossed the room to Hardane’s side.
“This is my oldest brother, Dubrey. The twins, Dirk and Garth, Morray, Liam, and Dace.”
Kylene nodded to each one in turn, noting that they all had dark eyes, wondering how a woman as slightly built as Sharilyn had produced such a brood of strapping young men.
“And who,” Dubrey asked with a wink at Hardane, “might this be?”
“This is Kylene.”
Dirk and Garth exchanged knowing grins. “Kylene,” they said together. “So, she is not your betrothed.”
“No.”
Dubrey stepped forward and took Kylene’s hand. “I’m happy to meet you, my lady. Might I interest you in a walk through the gardens later?”
“Excuse me,” Dace said, shoving his elder brother aside. “Might I interest you in a ride across the south meadow?”
Kylene glanced from one to the other, flustered by their attention, by the admiration in their eyes.
“Perhaps you’d sit with me at table this morning,” Morray asked, sidling up beside her.
“That’s enough,” Hardane said irritably. Taking Kylene’s arm, he drew her away from the others and ushered her toward the table, where he held her chair as she sat, then sat down beside her.
“Hadj!” he roared.
Moments later, the serving girl entered the room bearing a tray filled with hot honey bread and fruit.
“Where is Selene?” Sharilyn asked.
“Still abed, my lady,” Hadj replied, setting the platter before Lord Kray.
Lord Kray grunted with disapproval as he took his seat at the head of the table. Still abed, he thought irritably, and then chided himself for his unkind reaction. The girl had had a hard time of it, what with her father dying and all. No doubt she needed the rest.
“All right, you louts,” he called good-naturedly, “stop leering at the Lady Kylene like you’ve never seen a girl in skirts before and sit down. My meal grows cold. Dubrey, will you say the blessing?”
Kylene bowed her head, conscious of Hardane beside her. How many more days would she be allowed to stay at the castle? How could she bear to leave him?
With the blessing said, Hardane’s brothers turned their attention to the large platters of food that were forthcoming from the kitchens.
Gradually, as the men eased their hunger, Kylene became aware that the brothers were watching her speculatively.
“You never gave me an answer, my lady,” Dubrey said after a while. “Will you walk with me in the gardens?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Say you will,” Dubrey coaxed. “You can bring Hardane along as chaperon if it will make you feel safer.”
Kylene slid a glance in Hardane’s direction. His dark brows were drawn together in a scowl of disapproval.
“You won’t mind, will you, little brother?”
“Won’t mind what?”
Kylene glanced over her shoulder to see Selene enter the room. She looked radiant this morning. Clad in a flowing robe of midnight blue, Selene seemed to float across the floor.
“And who’s this?” Dace asked.
“Selene,” Hardane answered curtly. “My betrothed.”
Liam frowned. “But . . .”
As though pulled by the same string, six pairs of eyes gazed first at Kylene and then at Selene.
“Twins,” Dirk mused, poking Garth in the ribs.
“Yes,” Hardane acknowledged.
“One for each of us,” Garth said to Dirk, “if we can just manage to get rid of our little brother.”
Kylene blushed.
Selene laughed.
Hardane was not amused. He glared at his brothers, warning them to keep still.
“Here, Lady Selene,” Liam said, rising. “Come, sit here beside me and let us get acquainted.”
“Thank you,” Selene said. She smiled graciously at Liam, apparently pleased by his request. Inwardly, she was fuming because Hardane had not made a place for her at his side.
“So,” Lord Kray said, his gaze sweeping over the faces of his sons, “how long will you be home?”
Garth shrugged. “Until the wedding, at least. After all, it isn’t every day that our baby brother marries.”
“Indeed,” Dubrey agreed. He looked at Kylene and smiled. “Perhaps, if I’m very lucky, we’ll have a double wedding.”
Hardane swore softly, his annoyance at his brother’s implication bordering on soul-dark rage.
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