Read Beneath a Midnight Moon Online
Authors: Amanda Ashley
Beneath a Midnight Moon (24 page)
She basked in the adoration she read in his eyes, thrilled to his touch. He was a big man, hard-muscled and strong, yet he made love to her with infinite care, mindful of the new life she carried beneath her heart. His hands worshiped her; his kisses fanned the fire between them.
“Lady,” he murmured, raining kisses along the side of her neck. “Ah, lady, you’re like fire and silk in my hands.”
“Am I?”
“Aye, lady.” He groaned deep in his throat as her fingertips skimmed over his chest, trailing fire.
Kylene drew back. “Are you in pain, my lord wolf?” she asked, afraid she had accidentally jarred his injured thigh.
Hardane gazed up at her, a wry grin on his lips. “I’m in pain,” he muttered, “but not where you think.”
Kylene frowned at him, and then grinned, her cheeks growing warm as she took his meaning.
“Think it’s funny, do you?” he growled. “To torment me with your nearness and then pull away?”
Before she could answer, he rolled them over and tucked her beneath him.
Careful not to crush her, he kissed her again, groaning softly as she arched against him. Her skin was smooth and soft, unblemished and beautiful. Her scent rose all around him, warm and musky. She moved restlessly beneath him, the friction of her skin against his inflaming his desire until he was trembling with need.
“Now, my lord wolf,” she crooned softly, her hands gliding restlessly up and down his broad back, her nails lightly raking his flesh.
“Now,” he agreed, and buried himself deep within her welcoming warmth.
Chapter 41
Sharilyn paced the floor of her prison hour after hour, her mind in turmoil. Kray was unconscious and his mind was closed to her, but at least he was still alive.
She cursed herself for refusing to bed the Interrogator. What did it matter if he had his way with her body? She could have sent her
tashada
to Kray while the Interrogator defiled her. Instead, she had angered him, and she knew Kray would pay the ultimate price for what she’d done.
tashada
to Kray while the Interrogator defiled her. Instead, she had angered him, and she knew Kray would pay the ultimate price for what she’d done.
She paused as she heard footsteps in the corridor. It was the guard who brought her meals. Instantly, she took on the shape of the Interrogator and began pounding on the door.
“Let me out of here!” she hollered, hammering on the door again. “Hurry, you fools!”
There was the rasp of a key turning in the lock, and then the door swung open. Two guards stood in the passageway. One held a covered tray in his hands; the other held a sword.
“What is it, my lord?” asked the man bearing the tray.
“The woman! She’s escaped!”
Sharilyn marched boldly out of the room, knocking the tray from the hands of the near guard.
“You!” she shouted, gesturing to the armed guard. “Follow me!”
Without waiting for a reply, she hurried down the corridor, her inner sense leading her to the dungeons, and to Kray.
He waited in the shadows, not daring to breathe, as he watched the man move cautiously through the night. The darkness made it impossible to see the man’s face, impossible to tell if it was friend or foe, though he doubted he had many friends left in Mouldour.
He closed his eyes for a moment, one hand pressed to his chest. He was still weak from the blood he’d lost, but he was determined to have his revenge, to plunge his knife into Bourke’s traitorous heart, to feel the man’s blood on his hands. He had endured exile and betrayal at the hands of those he had loved and trusted, and he would have his moment of vengeance if it was the last thing he ever did.
Tonight, he thought. Tonight he would destroy Bourke, or die trying.
Hardane paused in the shadows of Castle Mouldour, his eyes and ears attuned to the slightest movement, the slightest sound. He had left Jared offshore in a small boat; the
Sea Dragon
sat at anchor out of sight behind a high promontory.
Sea Dragon
sat at anchor out of sight behind a high promontory.
On silent feet, he made his way to the back of the castle and through an ancient wrought-iron gate that was heavily overgrown with vines.
He paused every few feet to sniff the wind, to listen to the sounds of the night.
At last he reached the rear door that led into the dungeons. Using a bit of wire that Jared had given him for just this purpose, he unlocked the door and stepped into the musty darkness.
For a moment, he transformed into the wolf, using the animal’s superior senses to locate his father’s whereabouts. Then, assuming his own shape once more, he made his way down the dark corridor until he came to the cell that imprisoned Kray.
Hardane shrank against the wall as he saw a light coming from the opposite direction, swore softly as he saw Renick and an armed guard halt outside Kray’s cell.
“Open the door,” the Interrogator ordered imperiously.
Hardane held his breath as the cell door swung open and the Interrogator and the guard stepped inside. Then, drawing his sword, Hardane rushed forward, closed the prison door, and took the key from the lock.
The guard swore as he whirled around.
“Hand me your sword,” Hardane ordered.
“Do as he says,” the Interrogator commanded.
“Are you sure, my lord?” the guard asked, his gaze fixed on Hardane.
“Quite sure,” the Interrogator said.
With a look of disgust, the guard handed his sword through the bars.
Instantly, Sharilyn took on her own shape.
“Mother!” Hardane gasped.
“My son,” she replied with a smile.
Hardane stared at his father, who lay unmoving on the cold stone floor, his hands and feet shackled to the wall.
“Is he . . . is he dead?”
“No, only unconscious.”
There was no need for further discussion. Sharilyn used her sash to tie the guard’s hands behind his back, then stuffed her kerchief in his mouth. When that was done, Hardane unlocked the door, removed the shackles from his father’s hands and feet, then slung his father over his shoulder and led the way out of the dungeon.
When they reached the top of the stairs, they paused a moment to listen, and then Sharilyn opened the door and stepped into the darkness beyond the dungeon.
As soon as she stepped outside, a heavily muscled arm wrapped around her neck, choking off her breath.
Hardane, still hidden in the shadows, carefully lowered his father to the ground, then drew his sword and pressed the point between the shoulder blades of the man holding his mother.
“Release her.”
“Drop your sword, or she’s dead.”
“Release her,” Hardane repeated, putting pressure on the sword so that it slit the man’s shirt and pierced his flesh.
The man gasped as the point of the blade split his skin, but his arm remained around Sharilyn’s throat.
“A deal, then,” Hardane suggested. “I’ll put up my sword and you let the woman go.”
“Your word?”
“My word in exchange for yours.”
“Done,” the man agreed.
With more than a little reluctance, Hardane lowered his blade.
A moment later, and with just as much trepidation, the man released his hold on Sharilyn and whirled around to face Hardane.
“Bourke!” Hardane exclaimed as he saw the man’s face. Raising his sword again, he placed the point in the hollow of the man’s throat.
“You fool,” the man said, his voice thick with contempt. He gestured at his clothes, which were ill-fitting and covered with mud. “Has Lord Bourke taken to dressing in rags these days?”
Hardane frowned. “If you’re not Bourke, who are you?”
“His brother, Carrick. Rightful ruler of Mouldour.”
“Carrick is dead,” Sharilyn remarked, coming to stand beside Hardane.
“Not quite, madam,” the man replied with a low bow.
“Carrick would not dare to show his face here,” Hardane said, his gaze fixed on the man’s face, his sword steady at his throat. “Bourke and the Interrogator would kill him on sight.”
The man nodded. “As I plan to kill them.”
“Maybe he’s telling the truth,” Sharilyn mused.
Hardane grunted softly. “Maybe, but there’s no way to prove it.”
“Let’s take him with us.”
“Very well. Bind his hands and we’ll take him along.”
The man shook his head. “I came here to kill my brother, and I’m not leaving until it’s done.”
Hardane took a step forward, the tip of his blade pricking the skin at the man’s throat.
“You can come with us, or die here. The choice is yours.”
“I’ll go,” the man said, and stood quietly while Sharilyn bound his hands behind his back.
Handing his sword to his mother, Hardane settled his father over his shoulder once more and they made their way toward the shore where Jared waited with the boat.
Jared jumped to his feet, his sword in his hand, as he heard the sound of footsteps. He stared into the darkness, and then frowned.
“What the devil!” he exclaimed upon seeing the prisoner. “Bourke! You brought Bourke here?”
“He claims to be his brother, Carrick,” Hardane said. “Here, help me get my father into the boat.”
In moments, they had Kray settled in the bow, his head cradled in Sharilyn’s lap. The prisoner sat on the deck in the stern while Jared and Hardane rowed out to sea.
“What’s going on?” Jared asked. “What happened to Lord Kray? Where’s the Interrogator?” He jerked a thumb in the prisoner’s direction. “Where did you find him?”
“Enough,” Hardane said, exasperated. “I don’t have all the answers myself. But I intend to get them as soon as we reach the ship.”
Kylene was waiting for them topside. She ran forward, her cloak falling unheeded to the deck as she threw her arms around Hardane.
“Are you all right?” she asked, pressing kisses to his lips, his chin, his cheeks.
“I’m fine,” Hardane assured her. He took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “But my father’s ill. Go with my mother and see what you can do for him. I’ve got to talk to Kruck. I’ll join you as soon as I can,” he said, releasing her hand. “Jared, take the prisoner to the brig.”
Hardane gave Kylene a quick kiss on the cheek, and then headed for the bridge.
It was only when Jared gave the prisoner a shove toward the forward hatch that Kylene took a good look at the man’s face.
“Jared, wait!”
She took a step forward, her narrowed gaze probing the man’s face. Was it possible? Could it be . . .
“Papa?”
“Selene! What are you doing here?”
“I’m not Selene,” she replied, disappointed that he didn’t recognize her even though there was no reason why he should.
“No, it can’t be . . . Kylene, my dear girl, is that you?”
“Papa? Oh, Papa!” She threw her arms around him, her joy at his presence overshadowing a lifetime of questions.
“What’s going on?” Hardane threw a glance at Jared, and then stared at Kylene, who was hugging the prisoner for all she was worth.
“Seems this is the long-lost Lord Carrick, after all,” Jared replied with a grin. “Should I cut his throat or cut him loose?”
An hour later, Kylene sat beside her father, unable to take her eyes from his face.
Earlier, Hardane had cut Carrick’s hands free and had allowed him to bathe and change into clean clothes, and now they all sat in Hardane’s cabin while Carrick told of what had transpired since Bourke usurped the throne. He told of being hunted, of hiding out in caves and abandoned buildings, of having to scavenge like a predator for food.
“But Selene said you were dead,” Kylene exclaimed, taking her father’s hand in hers. “That you’d died in a cave.”
Carrick shrugged, not wanting to believe that his daughter had coldbloodedly left him in that cave to die.
“I’d been sick with a fever,” he said slowly. “Drifting in and out of consciousness. Perhaps she thought I was dead when she left me there.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t die, sick as you were, with no one to help you,” Hardane remarked, still doubting the man’s identity.
“I had someone to help me,” Carrick answered.
“Oh? Who?”
“A wolf,” Carrick said, his gaze moving from Hardane to Kylene.
“A wolf?” Sharilyn leaned forward in her chair, her eyes suddenly alight with interest.
Carrick nodded. “A she-wolf found me there. She shared her kills with me.” He shrugged. “The raw meat restored my strength.”
“A wolf.” Sharilyn looked at Hardane as she murmured the word.
“You don’t believe me?” Carrick said, a challenge rising in his eyes.
“I believe you,” Hardane said. “Tell me, why was Kylene sent to the Motherhouse?”
“To keep her safe.”
“To keep her safe?” Hardane asked suspiciously. “Or to make sure the prophesy would never be fulfilled?”
“To keep her safe,” Carrick repeated emphatically.
“Safe from whom?”
“Her sister.” Carrick gave Kylene’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Selene was always jealous of you. She knew she would always live in your shadow because you were the firstborn twin, the one destined to share the throne of Argone, to fulfill the prophesy that would bring lasting peace to Mouldour. She tried to hurt you on several occasions. Your mother and I thought it was just childhood jealousy until Selene tried to drown you in the bathtub.”
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