Beneath a Midnight Moon (18 page)
Read Beneath a Midnight Moon Online
Authors: Amanda Ashley
Chapter 28
It was late the next night when Hardane returned to the keep. Kylene was in their bedchamber, sitting in the window seat, her gaze focused on a distant star, when she felt his presence in the room.
Slowly, she turned around to face him. In a distant corner of her mind, she wondered how long he’d been back. Long enough to bathe and change his clothes, she thought as her gaze moved over him. He was a study in black, from the top of his head to the snug black breeches riding low on his narrow hips. His eyes were shadowed, and a day’s growth of beard covered the lower half of his face.
Kylene stared at the thick black bristles on his jaw, at the long black hair that fell past his shoulders. Gradually, her gaze lowered to the mat of ebony-colored hair that covered his broad chest.
Wolf.
Hardane’s jaw clenched under her scrutiny.
“Aye, lady,” he said roughly, “a wolf stands before you in the guise of a man. Think you I’ll tear out your heart?”
“You have torn it, my lord wolf,” she retorted, unable to hide the resentment she felt. “Torn it until it bleeds with sorrow and remorse.”
Hardane took a deep, steadying breath. She had a right to be angry. He should have told her the truth before the wedding. He should have warned her, prepared her.
“I never meant to hurt you, or deceive you,” he said quietly, and wondered if she’d ever forgive him.
She looked skeptical. “Didn’t you?”
“I should have told you everything,” he admitted, his voice laced with regret.
“Yes.”
A hurt deeper than pain lanced his heart as he tried to prepare himself to live without her, though how he’d face the future without her was beyond all comprehension, so quickly had she taken root in his heart, his very soul.
His gaze moved over her, committing to memory the fire that danced in her deep red hair, the dark brown of her eyes. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, her cheeks as pink as rose petals, her lips as red as a pomegranate seed. Kylene . . .
His hands curled into tight fists as he summoned the courage to ask the one question he dreaded.
“Will you leave me, now that you know the truth?”
Will you leave me, now that you know the truth?
She heard the pain in his voice and knew that her leaving would cut him deeply. And knew, just as certainly, that she’d rather die than live without him. Wolf or man, she loved him utterly, completely. To live without him would be no life at all.
She heard the pain in his voice and knew that her leaving would cut him deeply. And knew, just as certainly, that she’d rather die than live without him. Wolf or man, she loved him utterly, completely. To live without him would be no life at all.
“Kylene?” He stared into her eyes, his whole life hanging on her answer.
“I’ll not leave you, unless it is your wish.”
“You’ll stay?” he asked in disbelief. “In spite of the curse of my bloodline?”
Running across the room, Kylene threw herself into his arms. “A blessing, my lord wolf, not a curse.”
Hardane held her at arm’s length, wanting to make sure she understood that the Wolffan, like their wild cousins, mated for life.
“Are you certain, lady?” he asked, his gaze holding hers. “Once my seed is growing within you, there can be no turning back. Once our sons are born, I will never let you go.”
“Could you let me go now?”
Slowly, he shook his head. “No, lady, not even if it meant my life.”
“Then love me, Hardane,” she murmured. “I care not if you be wolf or man. Both or neither, only love me now.”
“As you wish, lady,” he replied, his voice husky with desire as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to their bed. “As you wish . . .”
And then, as gently as ever a man loved a woman, Hardane possessed her, and with every touch, with every caress, he reaffirmed his infinite love for her. And Kylene, listening with her heart, heard every unuttered vow as clearly as if he’d spoken his love aloud.
“I heard you in the night,” Kylene remarked a long time later.
She was lying in his arms, her head on his shoulder, her fingers lightly tracing a path through the hair on his chest.
“Did you? And what did you think?”
“I realized how deeply I had hurt you, and that, in so doing, I had hurt myself as well.”
Hardane wrapped a skein of her hair around his hand, admiring its softness as he brushed it against his cheek.
“I wasn’t going to come back, lady. I couldn’t face the thought of living here without you.”
“But this is your home,” Kylene exclaimed softly. “Where would you have gone?”
“There’s a wolf pack that hunts in the forest. For a time, I thought of joining them, of spending the rest of my life as a wolf.”
“You wouldn’t.”
A faint smile curved his lips. “I had decided I didn’t want a life without you, but I knew I had to see you one more time.”
Kylene sat up, her eyes wide as she stared down at him. “And if I had sent you from me, you would have gone to live with the wolves?”
“Aye, lady. What would my life be if I couldn’t share it with you?”
“Oh, Hardane,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “You must know how much I love you.”
“Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
Choking back a sob, Kylene snuggled against him once more, stunned to think he would have given up his home, the throne, the life he’d been born to live, all because of her.
She hugged him fiercely, determined to make him happy, to give him strong sons and beautiful daughters, to please him in every way a woman could please a man.
In the weeks that followed, they spent every moment together. Hardane showered her with gifts: jewels that reflected all the colors of the rainbow, lustrous silks and satins in fiery shades of red and blue and green. He took her to the stables and presented her with a horse of her own, a dainty, long-legged mare with a coat like black velvet and a mane and tail like ebony silk.
They took long rides together, sometimes traveling to nearby towns, sometimes spending the night near the waterfall.
On one such night, after they’d made love beneath a starlit sky, they walked hand in hand along the edge of the mountain. And there, silhouetted in the moonlight at the bottom of the falls, Kylene saw the Wolffan warrior who had ridden over the edge. And sitting on the boulder beside him, her wedding gown shimmering like liquid silver in the moonlight, was the woman who had chosen to join her beloved in death rather than face the future alone.
Kylene had stared up at Hardane, unable to believe her eyes. “Do you see them?” she had whispered.
“Aye, lady,” Hardane had replied, squeezing her hand. “And they see us.”
And when Kylene looked again, she saw the two lovers gazing up at them.
The woman waved, her delicate hand ghostly in the moonlight. And then the Wolffan warrior lifted his lady onto the back of his horse, swung up behind her, and rode off into the shadows beyond the falls.
Kylene had never known such happiness as she knew in those carefree days. It was as if she had been born anew the night Hardane returned to the castle, born into a world of light and laughter, a world of brilliant colors and sounds. Her regimented life in the Motherhouse seemed like a bad dream, a nightmare from which she’d been awakened by love’s first kiss.
Like a princess in a fairy tale, she found herself married to a prince, waited upon by servants. She had only to ask for something and it appeared before her. A new gown. A glass of wine. A bowl of freshly picked snowberries. Every whim, every desire of her heart, was granted almost before she’d made it known.
But most wondrous of all was Hardane. He had become the center of her world, her life. She basked in his touch, felt her heart thrill anew each time she heard the deep timbre of his voice. His face was the first she saw in the morning, the last she saw at night. His kisses sent her off to sleep and woke her with the dawn.
She thought often of the sisters she’d never met. One day soon, she would ask Hardane to locate what was left of her family, perhaps invite them to Castle Argone, but not yet. She was too caught up in her newfound happiness to want to share it with anyone else. Soon, she would make time to meet her sisters and their families, but not now.
Occasionally, she wondered what had happened to Selene. No one in the castle had seen her sister since the wedding. The knowledge that her twin sister hated her, hated her enough to try to kill her, was hard to bear. Kylene tried to imagine how she would feel if the situation were reversed, but she knew, deep in her heart, that she would never have plotted against Selene.
But Hardane gave her little time to fret about her sister’s treachery, and she gradually put it out of her mind.
These long golden days of sunshine and laughter, these glorious star-studded nights of ecstasy, belonged only to Hardane.
Chapter 29
Selene stood in the center of the Great Hall of Castle Mouldour, the rapid pounding of her heart the only sign of her inner tension.
She was risking her future, her very life, by being here, and yet she had nowhere else to go, no other course of action to take.
She took a deep breath as she heard footsteps in the outer hall, and then her uncle stood in the doorway. He was an impressive man, tall and brawny, with broad shoulders, and legs that looked as solid as tree trunks. A full beard and a mustache covered the lower half of his face. She could tell by the look in his frigid blue eyes that he wasn’t happy to see her.
“Selene.” He muttered her name as he stepped into the room.
She dropped a curtsey. “Uncle.”
“Where’s your father?”
“He’s dead.”
Bourke’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. With his brother’s death, the throne became more secure. “And your sister?”
“She married Hardane of Argone a fortnight ago.”
“You know that for a fact?” Bourke asked, obviously worried.
“I was there.”
Bourke stared past her, unseeing, as he absorbed this information. Kylene’s marriage to Hardane was an event that the Interrogator had assured him would never take place. Now it was an accomplished fact.
A wedding. A wedding night. Children . . . twins. Bourke grunted softly. The twins that had been foretold by prophesy. The twins who would steal his throne, his power.
“Why have you come here, Selene?”
“I need a place to stay.”
“And you want to stay here?” Bourke looked skeptical.
“No. I want a place of my own, land of my own.”
“I have no land to give away.”
“Perhaps we can make a trade.”
Bourke snorted disdainfully. “What would a mere woman have to trade?”
“My sister for Kildeene Castle.”
Bourke’s eyes glinted with interest. “How do you propose to get her away from Argone?”
“I know a way. Do we have a bargain?”
Bourke nodded slowly.
“I’ll have your word, Uncle.”
“You have it.”
Selene smiled. At last she would have a place of her own, land of her own. She would have no need of a man to rule her. She would take her pleasure where she could find it, and answer to no one.
“There’s a secret entrance that leads from Hardane’s bedchamber all the way to the river on the west side of the keep,” she said. “Unless your men are complete fools, they should be able to slip into the castle unseen, take Kylene, and make their escape without being caught.”
Bourke studied his niece thoughtfully. They had more in common than mere kinship, he mused. Selene was a woman who knew what she wanted and was prepared to do whatever it took to obtain it, even if it meant betraying her own sister, as he had betrayed his brother to obtain the throne of Mouldour.
Bourke grunted softly. It was too bad they shared the same blood, he thought with regret. Selene would have made a fine queen.
Chapter 30
The Interrogator leaned over the rail, his gaze fixed on the sandy shore of the Argonian coast. The woman, Kylene, had set the prophesy in motion by marrying the future Lord of Argone, but she would not live long enough to bear his children. He would have her head when they returned to Mouldour, and the head of the Wolf of Argone as well, if it were possible.
The Interrogator rubbed his hands together. Once he had fixed it so the prophesy could not come true, the throne of Mouldour would be secure. Bourke’s only child was a bastard by birth. She would be easily disposed of when the time came.
Frowning, the Interrogator stared at the waves lapping at the side of the ship. Once Kylene was eliminated, once the fulfillment of the prophesy was no longer possible, there would be nothing to stop him from taking over the throne. He could take the Princess Selene to wife. She would make a powerful ally. If she shared the throne, the people of Mouldour would more readily accept him as Lord High Ruler since she was Carrick’s daughter, and Carrick had been the rightful Lord High Ruler of Mouldour. The people hated Bourke, but they would give their allegiance to Selene, and to the man who made it possible for her to obtain the throne.
It was worth thinking about, and he thought of little else as the ship made its way toward the Argonian coast.
It was after midnight when they dropped anchor in a placid cove.
In the distance, he heard the sound of a waterfall.
Kylene snuggled against Hardane. Drifting between waking and sleeping, she listened to the sound of the waterfall as it splashed over the rocky mountainside to the river below.
Through heavy-lidded eyes, she gazed at the stars, at the full yellow moon hanging low in the sky. In a few hours it would be dawn, time to return to the keep. Hardane had duties to perform this day.
A rebellion had sprung up in Chadray several days ago, and Lord Kray and his sons had gone to quell it, leaving Hardane in charge of the keep. Most of the able-bodied men of Castle Argone had accompanied Lord Kray.
In the days since his father’s departure, Hardane had been busy from dusk till dawn with castle affairs, but yesterday afternoon he had spirited her out of the keep, insisting he needed a few hours away from the petty complaints of the people.
There had been no need to ask her twice. She had been more than eager to spend time alone with her husband in their favorite retreat.
Kylene turned her head to the side, her gaze moving lovingly over her husband’s profile. It was a decidedly masculine face, all hard lines and planes, his jaw shaded with black bristles.
She ran her hand lightly over his jaw, loving the feel of his coarse black beard beneath her fingertips, and then her hand slid down his chest, lower, lower, toying with the curly black hair that ran straight as an arrow to that part of him that made him a man.
A growl rumbled in Hardane’s throat, and she found her hand trapped in his, found herself staring into the depths of his gray eyes.
“You’re asking for trouble, lady,” he warned.
Kylene widened her eyes in mock innocence. “Trouble, my lord?”
“Aye, lady,” he replied, and before she quite knew how it happened, she was tucked beneath him, her hands imprisoned in his as he bent to claim her lips in a kiss that seared her from head to heel.
“1 could grow to like such trouble,” Kylene murmured.
“Could you, wench?”
“Wench?” She glowered at him. “Wench, is it?”
Hardane grinned impudently. “A wife must be all things to her husband,” he said arrogantly. “Friend, lover . . .” He pressed a kiss to her brow. “Mother, sister. Wench . . .” His lips brushed her cheek. “Lady . . .” His tongue slid across her lower lip. “Mistress.”
Kylene blinked up at him, her expression serious. “Were you ever tempted to take a mistress, my lord wolf?”
Hardane grunted softly as he recalled the day Jared had taken him to the pleasure house of Karos.
“No,” he answered honestly, remembering the disgust he’d felt at being in such a place. “Never.”
He kissed her again. “You’re all the woman I need,” he murmured gruffly. “The only woman I’ll ever need, or want. I . . .”
Abruptly, he released her hands and sat up, his head cocked to one side.
“What is it?” Kylene asked.
“Listen!”
Kylene frowned. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Someone’s coming.” Hardane stood up, his hand reaching for his sword. “Stay here.”
On silent feet, he made his way toward the path that led to the waterfall, a muffled curse rising in his throat as he saw what looked to be a hundred well-armed men riding toward the castle.
He muttered a vile oath as he recognized the man riding at the head of the column. As he watched, a rider approached and the Interrogator signaled for the column to halt.
In the stillness of the morning, Hardane had no trouble overhearing what was said.
“We can take the castle with little trouble,” the rider said. “Lord Kray and most of the men have gone to Chadray to settle a dispute.”
The Interrogator smiled, obviously pleased with this unexpected bit of good news.
“I don’t want the castle, only the woman,” he said. “Everyone else is expendable, but the woman must be taken alive. Is that understood?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And Hardane,” the Interrogator added. “I want him, too, if possible.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“We’ll rest the horses for a quarter of an hour, then press on.”
Hardane stared at the column, his mind racing. He could make a run for the keep and hope he could muster a defense with the men who had remained at the castle, but he knew that such a course of action would inevitably lead to a battle, a battle they couldn’t win against such odds. Even if he managed to get a messenger to his father, even if he managed to hold the Interrogator off until Lord Kray returned from Chadray, there would be lives lost. He couldn’t put Kylene or his mother at risk when there was a chance he could prevent it.
Hardane clenched his fists until his knuckles were white. The Interrogator wanted Kylene, only Kylene . . .
Turning on his heel, Hardane ran back to her.
“What is it?” she asked, her brow furrowed with concern as he snatched up his shirt and thrust it into her hands.
“Dress quickly.” He shook his head as she reached for her undergarments. “There’s no time for that now,” he said. “Hurry.” He was reaching for his breeches as he spoke.
“What is it?” Kylene asked anxiously. “Tell me, please.”
“There’s no time.” Catching her around the waist, he swung her onto the back of his horse. “Ride hard for the keep. Tell my mother the Interrogator is riding toward the castle. She’ll know what to do.”
“The Interrogator? Coming here?” Kylene went cold with fear as she recalled her last encounter with the man. “Where are you going?”
“Kylene, I’ve no time to explain. I’ll come to you as soon as I can. Hurry now!”
She wanted to argue, needed to know where he was going, but the urgency in his eyes, in his voice, kept her protests at bay. Leaning toward him, she kissed him once, hard and quick, and then she dug her heels into the stallion’s flanks and headed for the castle, praying that he would soon follow.
Drawing a deep breath, Hardane willed his body to change. He shuddered convulsively as his large, hard-muscled frame assumed an unfamiliar form, transforming into something smaller, softer, rounder.
And then, praying that his ruse would work, he swung onto the back of Kylene’s mare and urged the horse toward the trail that led to the waterfall.
“There!” The Interrogator pointed at the woman riding toward them, unable to believe his good fortune. “It’s her!”
The Interrogator smiled as the woman reined her horse to a halt, then sawed hard on the reins, wheeling the mare into a tight turn, but it was too late. Before she could escape, four of his men had her surrounded.
One of the men grabbed the mare’s reins and led her back to the Interrogator.
“So, my lady,” the Interrogator said, his voice heavy with sarcasm, “we meet again.”
“What do you want?”
“You, my lady,” he replied, blessing the gods of Mouldour for this unexpected bit of fortuity. “Ivar, turn the column around. We return to the ship at once.”
“What of Hardane?” Ivar asked.
“He’ll come to us.” The Interrogator smiled with malicious glee. “I’ll have them both.”
He chuckled softly.
And the throne as well,
he mused to himself.
All without spilling a drop of blood. The throne. Power. The secret of shape changing. Soon it would all be his.
“Bind her hands and bring her along.”
And the throne as well,
he mused to himself.
All without spilling a drop of blood. The throne. Power. The secret of shape changing. Soon it would all be his.
“Bind her hands and bring her along.”
Sharilyn stared at Kylene, hardly able to understand the girl’s words as they tumbled from her mouth.
“The Interrogator. He’s here. Send for Lord Kray. Quickly!”
“The Interrogator?” Sharilyn exclaimed, the very name striking fear to her heart. “What does he want? Why would he come here?”
“He wants me. I don’t know why. And Hardane. He wants Hardane.”
Sharilyn took a deep breath. “Where is Hardane?”
“He stayed behind. He said he’d come as soon as he could . . .” Kylene stared at Sharilyn. “You don’t think . . .”
“Yes,” Sharilyn said, confirming Kylene’s worst fears. “That’s just what I think.”
“But . . . but he said he’d never taken on a woman’s shape.”
“It should be easy for him to assume yours, my daughter. He knows it as well as he knows his own.”
Kylene shook her head, refusing to believe what she knew to be true. Hardane had assumed her shape. He had let the Interrogator take him not only so that she could reach the castle safely, but in hopes of preventing a battle.
“Oh, Hardane,” she murmured. As the full impact of what he’d done hit her, she sank into a chair, staring sightlessly at the floor.
As from a great distance, Kylene heard Sharilyn giving orders to Teliford and the others, and when that was done, Sharilyn sent Parah to check with the lookouts, but all four reported that all was quiet, no enemy in sight.
Hardane’s scheme had worked, Kylene realized. Thinking that he had her in his clutches, the Interrogator had returned to his ship. Even now, he could be making his way toward the Isle of Mouldour.
By the time the Interrogator realized his mistake, the element of surprise would be lost and the people of Castle Argone would be ready for him should he decide to return. A messenger had already been sent to Chadray to inform Lord Kray of what was happening. Riders had been sent to the outlying villages, ordering every village to send a dozen men to help defend the castle.
But none of that mattered to Kylene. Hardane was gone, perhaps forever.
A single tear slipped down her cheek as she wrapped her hands over her stomach in a protective gesture as old as time and began to rock back and forth.
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