Beneath a Midnight Moon

Hardane left Jared to look after the horses and hurried into the keep, driven by an uncontrollable urge to see Kylene, to hear her voice. He needed the company of her sweet presence to banish the last vestiges of the pleasure palace that lingered like a bad dream in the back of his mind.

The castle had never seemed so huge as it did now as he walked through it room by room.

He found her in the small sala in the far reaches of the keep, a delicate piece of lace embroidery in her lap, a faraway look in her eyes as she gazed out the open door into the gardens beyond.

He stood inside the doorway, just watching her, for a long moment before he spoke her name.

Kylene's heart fluttered with excitement at the sound of his voice. All day, she had been thinking of him, wondering where he had gone, when he would return. It baffled her, how eagerly she had awaited his return, how empty the hours seemed when he was not there. And mingled with that bewilderment was a strong sense of guilt because she spent so much time thinking of him, only him, when she should be examining her soul, seeking penance and forgiveness for her wayward thoughts.

She laid the needlework aside as he crossed the floor to stand beside her. She tilted her head back so she could see his face, mesmerized, as always, by his rugged good looks.

Hardane stared down at her, suddenly at a loss for words now that he'd found her. The sunlight streaming through the open door made her skin glow and cast golden highlights in her hair. But it was the look of welcome in her eyes that brought a smile to his lips.

He nodded toward the gardens. "Do you . . . would you care to take a walk?"

"Aye, my lord."

He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet, pleased that she was a woman who knew her own mind, that she didn't feel the need to be coy, or to play silly games.

Outside, they walked along the wide paths that wound in and out of the gardens. The flowers were in bloom and a rich sweet fragrance filled the air.

Kylene surveyed the gardens in wonder, captivated by the shrubs that had been cut and shaped to resemble animals-wild cats, horned leopards, snarling wolves . . .

She slid a glance at Hardane, remembering how he had appeared in one of her dreams in the shape of a wolf. He was remembering, too; she could see it in his eyes. But, more than that, she felt it in her thoughts. And then, to her surprise, the image of the black wolf appeared briefly in her mind.

Kylene came to a halt and stared up at him. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You know very well what. You were reading my mind. You planted the wolf's image there."

"Did I?"

"You know you did!" she exclaimed. "Didn't you?"

"Aye, lady," he admitted with a roguish grin. "I did. I sensed you had a fondness for the beast."

Kylene lowered her gaze, embarrassed to recall how pleasurable the touch of the wolf's tongue upon her palm had been.

"You can deny it all you wish," Hardane mused, "but I know that you're Carrick's daughter, else you could not receive my thoughts, nor could I read yours."

"If you can read my thoughts so easily, why can't I read yours?"

"Have you tried?"

"Of course not," she retorted. Her first reaction was horror at the mere idea, but then . . .

"Try," Hardane urged.

She gazed into his eyes, those fathomless gray eyes, and tried to see what he was thinking. But all she could think of was how handsome he was, how much she wished that she was indeed the woman he thought her.

"You must concentrate on my thoughts," Hardane remarked with a knowing grin, "not the color of my eyes."

She flushed from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. "Stop that!"

"I'm sorry, but some thoughts are easier to read than others, especially those that concern me."

"It's . . . it's indecent."

"Indecent, lady?" he asked wryly.

"It makes me feel naked." She clapped her hand over her mouth. Mortified at what she'd said, she stared up at him, waiting for him to make some ribald suggestion.

Instead, he took her hand in his and held it over his heart. "You need never hide your thoughts from me, Kylene. I will never betray you, or shame you."

His gaze met hers, held it, and in that moment she knew that he desired her, heart and soul, and that he would never do anything to hurt her.

Overwhelmed with the depths of his desire, not knowing how to respond, she started walking again. He quickly fell into step beside her, shortening his long stride to match her shorter one.

They walked in silence for a long while, weaving through the garden paths until they came to a maze. Kylene hesitated a moment, and then continued on. In moments, she could see nothing but green on all sides.

"Why, lady?" Hardane asked at length. "Why do you continue to deny me?"

"Why, sir, do you continue to plague me? I've told you and told you, I'm not Lord Carrick's daughter."

She came to an abrupt halt and turned to face him. "Don't you think I'd admit it if it were true? Even if I didn't find you . . ."

"Attractive?" he supplied, stifling a smile.

"Attractive," she admitted. "I'd be a fool to refuse all of this." She made a broad gesture that encompassed the whole of the castle. "I've lived in poverty all my life. If it were up to me, I would gladly stay here. But it isn't up to me. I have sworn fealty to the Sisterhood, and you're betrothed to the Princess Selene. It's your duty to wed her, just as it's my duty to honor the vows I've made."

Hardane felt a rush of admiration for the woman standing before him. She was honest. She was loyal. She would, he thought, have made a valiant knight.

He dismissed her protestations that she wasn't Carrick's daughter. Whether she denied it from fear or pretended ignorance, he knew it to be a lie. And yet, when he probed her mind, he found nothing to indicate she was other than she claimed to be, a foundling raised by the Mouldourian Sisterhood. Still, deep inside his own soul, he knew she was the woman destined to be his. And he would prove it. One way or another, he would prove it.

Kylene held Hardane's gaze a moment more, and then she began walking again, conscious that he was there beside her.

A short time later, they reached the heart of the maze. "Oh," Kylene exclaimed. "It's beautiful."

And yet beautiful didn't begin to describe it. A crystal geyser bubbled from an underground spring. Huge lacy ferns and wondrous flowers grew in profuse abundance. A small stone bench was shaded by the leafy umbrella of an ancient willow tree. A golden shrub grew beside the spring. Cut in the shape of a unicorn, it seemed vibrant and alive.

It was like being in a different world, a magical world where dreams could come true, where the innermost desires of one's heart might be granted.

Slowly, she turned around, not wanting to miss the smallest detail, until she came face-to-face with Hardane.

For a timeless moment, they gazed at each other.

And then, wordlessly, helplessly, he held out his arms.

And she, willingly, eagerly, stepped into his embrace, lifting her face for his kiss.

He lowered his head, blocking the sun, the sky, until there was nothing in all the world but the man bending over her. With infinite tenderness, his lips claimed hers. Feather-light, no more than the merest whisper of his mouth on hers, yet the heat of his touch engulfed her like a living flame, consuming every thought, every emotion.

Unaccountably, the image of a black-haired, gray-eyed wolf padded quietly down the corridors of her mind, and she felt the palm of her hand tingle, felt a rush of pleasure that was as warm and sweet as the finest Mouldourian wine.

Too soon, he took his mouth from hers, and yet, in that one brief instant, Kylene knew her whole world had been changed forever.

With a sigh, Hardane let her go.

With a sigh, Kylene took a step backward.

And yet his arms still felt the warmth of her body, the softness of her skin.

Her lips still tingled with his touch, his taste.

For the first time, he wondered if it might be possible to break his betrothal if Kylene proved to be a commoner, as she claimed.

For the first time, she wondered if she had truly been called to the Sisterhood.

Because he had to touch her again, Hardane reached for her hand, his fingers curling lightly around hers.

"We should go back," he said reluctantly.

"Yes."

His gaze moved over her face, resting briefly on her lips. "Kylene . . ."

She smiled up at him, knowing that everything she was feeling was reflected in her eyes. "My lord?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "Nothing, lady. I wanted only to say your name."

His words pleased her beyond measure, making her heart swell with an emotion she had never before known.

A pleasant warmth filled her as they left the maze, walking in companionable silence back to the castle. She very carefully stored the memory of his kiss, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes, into a corner of her mind. No matter what the future held, no matter if she spent the rest of her life in a tiny cell within the confines of the Motherhouse, she would always have the memory of this day to keep her warm.