Read Beneath a Midnight Moon Online
Authors: Amanda Ashley
Beneath a Midnight Moon (7 page)
Sharilyn made a gesture of dismissal with her hand. “Nonsense. You’re our guest. A ride will do you good, put some color in your cheeks.” She looked at Hardane. “What say you?”
A shadow passed over his face, and then he smiled. “It would be my pleasure, mother mine. Perhaps Nan will pack us a lunch.”
“I’ll see to it,” Sharilyn said, smiling benignly.
The rest of the meal passed in a blur. Kylene could think of nothing but the coming day, of spending it alone with Hardane.
She excused herself immediately after dinner and hurried to her room, only to pace the floor, her stomach a knot of anxiety.
A day, alone with Hardane.
It was a dream come true.
It was a nightmare.
It would be too soon upon her.
Chapter 13
Hardane paced the floor as he waited for Kylene. How could he spend the day with her, be near her, and not touch her? Thoughts of women often filled his meditations. He had admired them, lusted for them, but never before had he been plagued with such soul-wrenching desire as he was now. He had only to look at Kylene to want her. Her image filled his dreams so that he tossed and turned night after night. When the wanting got unbearable, he left the castle, running through the darkness until he was exhausted, but no matter how far he ran, he couldn’t outrun his desire.
The sound of footsteps drew his attention, and he glanced up to see Kylene standing at the head of the stairs. She was wearing a dark brown riding habit that would have been drab on any other woman, but the earthy color enhanced the red of Kylene’s hair and deepened the color of her eyes.
Kylene smiled tentatively as she started down the stairs, unable to shake the feeling that Sharilyn had maneuvered Hardane into this outing against his will.
“We don’t have to go if you’d rather not,” she said when she reached the bottom of the staircase. “I know how busy you are.”
Hardane shook his head, then held out his hand. “The horses are waiting, lady.”
Kylene placed her hand in his, noting how large his was, how dark the skin compared to her own, and then his fingers closed over hers and all thought fled her mind as a soft golden warmth crept up her arm and spread through her, filling her with sunshine.
Her gaze darted to his face. Did he feel it, too, that slow heat that sent shivers along her spine whenever he was near, whenever he touched her? She stared at him in confusion, her nerve endings tingling, her whole body yearning toward that which she did not fully understand.
Hardane sucked in a ragged breath. He looked down at her hand, so small, so delicate, compared to his own. Heat radiated from her touch, pulsing through him to settle in his groin, hot and heavy.
Wordlessly, he led Kylene outside and lifted her onto the back of her horse. She was like a feather in his arms, soft and light.
Swinging aboard his own mount, Hardane headed toward a verdant valley a short distance behind the castle.
Kylene held her horse back a little. She needed some distance between them, a space of time to collect her thoughts, to remind herself of her obligations, her vows to the Sisterhood—especially the vow of chastity.
She tried to concentrate on the beauty of the passing countryside, the lush grass, the flowers that grew in bright profusion on every peak and hill, the trees clothed in every shade of green imaginable—but time and again her gaze was drawn to Hardane—to the incomparable width of his shoulders, the way the morning sun made blue highlights dance in his hair, the way he rode his horse, tall and straight and proud, like the warrior prince he was. His sleeveless jerkin exposed his arms—strong, well-tanned, well-muscled arms. His legs, clad in supple black leather, guided his horse with the ease of long practice.
He was like a hawk, wild and free, master of his own life, his own fate, and she was like a wren, dull brown and ordinary, easy prey for cats and wolves . . . and hawks.
She drew her gaze from his broad back and began to mentally recite the rules of the Sisterhood, but, somehow, she couldn’t seem to concentrate on promises of obedience, poverty, chastity, and service to others. They were promises she’d made when she was hardly more than a child, when she didn’t fully realize that there was a whole world waiting outside the walls of the Motherhouse, when she didn’t fully understand the implications of chastity. She knew now that it meant more than staying chaste. It meant giving up all hope of a husband, a home of her own, children. . . . It meant denying herself the pleasure of a man’s arms around her, a pleasure she had never contemplated until she met Hardane of Argone.
Lost in thought, she was hardly aware that he had come to a stop until he reached out and grabbed her horse’s bridle, bringing the animal to a halt.
She blinked up at him, felt the full impact of his gaze as his eyes met hers. Those eyes, deep and dark, which were sometimes as gray as thunderclouds and sometimes the soft hue of a dove’s wing.
“We’re here,” he said, and swinging from the saddle, he lifted her from her horse’s back and placed her feet on the ground.
For an endless moment, they gazed at each other, a mere breath of space between them.
She saw the sudden heat that flared in his eyes, the fine lines around his eyes, the steady beat of the pulse in his throat. She hadn’t seen many men in her life. Those on board the
Sea Dragon
had been plain, of no consequence. Hardane’s friend Jared had been comely enough, but surely no man in all the world was as handsome as the one standing before her.
Sea Dragon
had been plain, of no consequence. Hardane’s friend Jared had been comely enough, but surely no man in all the world was as handsome as the one standing before her.
Hardane felt his body respond to Kylene’s perusal. The touch of her golden brown eyes was like the touch of fire, snaking along his nerve endings, igniting the coals of desire until he thought he might burst into flame. It had been sheer folly to agree to bring her here. He was a man grown, a man destined to rule Argone, and yet he had no more knowledge of women than a lad.
The fire in his body raged hotter and hotter, fueled by the faint hint of longing that sparked in Kylene’s eyes.
Take her now.
He clenched his fists to keep from doing just that, but he didn’t turn away. Fool that he was, he continued to stand close to the flame, tormenting himself like a moth that knows sure destruction awaits but is drawn closer and closer to the fire.
And then he heard his mother’s voice whisper in the back of his mind, warning him, reminding him of the promise he had made to her years ago.
Like a splash of cold water, it cooled the flames, though the spark still burned. With an effort, he took a step back, putting distance between them.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
Kylene released a deep breath, feeling as though she had just been rescued from the edge of a precipice. “Not yet.”
“Thirsty, perhaps?”
She nodded, her gaze following him as he removed a flask and two goblets from his saddlebags. He filled one and handed it to her, then filled the second for himself.
Kylene took the goblet, grateful to have something to do with her hands. She sipped the wine slowly, feeling it spread through her, warming her, relaxing her.
“It’s pretty here,” she remarked, looking around. “Do you come here often?”
Do you bring women here often?
was what she really wanted to know, but didn’t dare ask.
Do you bring women here often?
was what she really wanted to know, but didn’t dare ask.
He shrugged. “This was my favorite place when I was a boy. I used to spend hours here, walking through the woods, watching the waterfall yonder, fishing, dreaming.”
“Of what did you dream?”
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Of being a great warrior. Of saving a princess from an evil wizard.”
Selene. The name slithered into the back of Kylene’s mind. Selene was the princess he was destined to rescue.
“And now your dreams are coming true,” she murmured. “Jared told me you are a great warrior. And soon you’ll have your princess.”
A shadow darkened Hardane’s eyes. He had forgotten about Selene.
“No doubt she’s very beautiful,” Kylene said.
“Perhaps,” Hardane remarked, and knew that it wouldn’t matter. Beautiful or ugly, he didn’t want her. He wanted the girl standing before him, wanted her with such soul-searing desire that he was tempted to turn his back on all that he was, to break the promise he’d made to his mother, just to possess her, if only for a day, an hour.
Kylene stared at him over the rim of her goblet. She could feel his desire reaching out to her, tangible, alive. It should have frightened her; instead, for one brief moment, she welcomed it. He desired her. Perhaps he thought her pretty. It was a heady thought, one that filled her heart and soul with joy, and then guilt overshadowed her joy, reminding her that she had vowed to take her place in the Sisterhood, that pride was a sin, that the yearnings of the flesh were of the most wicked kind, for which she would have to do hours and hours of penance when she returned to the Motherhouse.
A little seed of rebellion, nurtured by distance and watered by desire, suddenly sprouted in the back of her mind, reminding her that she might never return to the Motherhouse, that she might never have the opportunity to take her final vows.
And for the first time, she let herself think of what it might be like to live as other women lived, to love, to marry, to share her life with a man. She tested it, tasted it, and found it sweet. And then, like a bit of meat chewed too long, it lost its flavor and she knew she was only deceiving herself. Hardane was the only man she wanted, the only man she would ever want, and he was betrothed to another, just as she was betrothed to the church.
Saddened, she turned away from him and walked toward the sound of rushing water.
Frowning, Hardane stared after her, wondering at the play of emotions that had flitted across her face. Her hips swayed seductively as she walked. In any other woman, he would have said it was a deliberate ploy to entice him, a feminine art well practiced, but not in Kylene. She was artlessly seductive, completely unaware of her beauty.
Muttering an oath, he followed her down the path that led to the waterfall.
He found her a short time later, sitting on a large boulder that overlooked the river. The sound of the falls was like thunder as the water rushed over the edge of a high rock-faced mountain to crash into the river below.
“It’s lovely,” Kylene murmured. “So powerful.”
Hardane nodded. “It’s said that a Wolffan warrior once fell over the edge in the dark of night. He was riding to save his beloved from marrying another man and in his haste, he misjudged his distance from the edge. Unable to stop, he plunged to his death. When his beloved learned of his fate, she donned her wedding gown and rode her horse over the edge and joined him there at the bottom of the falls. You can see them sometimes, sitting together on that rock below.”
Kylene stared at the rock he indicated and then gazed up at Hardane. Her mind told her such a thing was impossible, but her heart wanted desperately to believe that the lovers had been reunited.
Hardane smiled down at her, mesmerized by the faint gleam of tears in her eyes, by the way the sunlight shimmered in her hair.
He had a sudden, strong urge to sweep her into his arms. Instead, he used his forefinger to brush a tear from the corner of her eye.
“You needn’t weep for them,” he said, his voice low and husky. “They’re quite happy.”
“You’ve seen them?”
Hardane nodded. “Often, on cold winter evenings when the moon is full and the night is quiet.”
“Is it another of your gifts, to be able to see ghosts?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps it’s only because I believe.”
He bent toward her, his face filling her gaze, his scent surrounding her. “What do you believe, lady?”
“I . . . what do you mean?”
“Do you believe in the Sisterhood? Do you truly wish to take your final vows, to lock yourself behind cold stone walls, to grow old there, alone and unloved?”
“You have no right to ask me such questions.”
“I saved your life,” he reminded her quietly. “I have every right.”
“I gave my word to abide by their rules. I’ll take my final vows when I return.”
“If you return.”
“When I return,” she said firmly, and knew a sudden need to return to the safety of the Motherhouse, to be away from dark, probing eyes and a voice that ensnared her like a silken web, urging her to turn her back on all that she was, all that she had promised to be.
Hardane looked deep into her eyes for a full minute and then, with a muttered oath, he stood up and walked away, away from tantalizing rose pink lips and golden brown eyes that silently begged for his touch even though her words pushed him away.
Kylene watched him go, aware of a sudden emptiness that seemed to creep into every part of her heart and soul. She had to find her way back to Mouldour, she thought desperately; she had to get away from this man who played havoc with her heart. Once she returned to the Motherhouse, she would find the security she had once known, the inner peace she craved. She didn’t want to be tormented by dreams of strong brown arms and stormy gray eyes. She wanted only to be left alone to pray and serve others. Didn’t she?
For a long while, she sat on the boulder, gazing at the waterfall as it rushed down the mountainside, wondering at the woman who had loved a man so much that she had joined him in a watery grave rather than live without him. Such devotion was foreign to her. The only love she knew was the love of the Sisterhood, her love for Him who was the Father of All. She had no knowledge of the kind of love shared between a man and a woman. Indeed, she had never given much thought to carnal love until Hardane walked into her dreams.
Hardane. He was so handsome, so brave and strong. Surely he had known many beautiful women. She saw the way the maids at the castle looked at him, their eyes wide with admiration and adoration, the way they hurried to do his bidding, vying for his attention. No doubt women were constantly throwing themselves at his feet, yearning for his touch . . .
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