Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,10

realize she had spent the night on his lap, wrapped in his embrace.

How handsome he was! His lashes rested like black fans on his tanned cheeks. His nose was wide and straight, his lips full and well formed, tempting her touch.

Unable to help herself, she lifted her hand, one fingertip extended, reaching to trace the curve of his mouth. . . .

She quickly withdrew her hand when she realized he was no longer asleep.

He stared at her through heavy-lidded eyes. “Good morrow, lady,” he said, his voice raspy.

“Good morrow,” she replied, embarrassed to have been caught staring at him while he slept. She felt her cheeks grow warm under his knowing gaze.

“Did you rest well?”

She nodded. With each passing moment, she grew more and more aware of the intimacy of their position. But when she started to rise, his arms tightened around her, holding her in place.

“Let me up, please.”

“Are you not comfortable here?” he asked, his eyes dancing with amusement.

Too comfortable, she thought irritably. “I . . . please, my lord.”

He knew he should let her go, but he continued to hold her, liking the weight of her in his lap. Her scent, warm and womanly, filled his nostrils. Mesmerized by her nearness, her beauty, he traced the soft curve of her cheek, ran the back of his hand down the slender column of her neck.

His body reacted immediately, filling with warmth, pulsing with need.

Abruptly, he stood her on her feet and headed for the door. “I’ll have one of the men bring you something to eat,” he said, not looking at her. “And water for a bath,” he added, and then he was gone.

On deck, Hardane endured the speculative looks of his crew, but only Jared had the nerve to approach him.

“I trust you slept well, my lord,” he inquired cordially.

Hardane glared at the man who had been his friend for more than twenty years. “Well enough.”

Jared grinned at Hardane. They had grown up together, always conscious of the fact that Hardane would one day be the ruler of Argone, yet it had never hindered their friendship. Jared readily accepted the fact that one day Hardane would be his liege, but it never stopped him from speaking his mind, nor did he ever forget to give Hardane the respect that was his due. Respect that had been earned on the field of battle where they had fought side by side.

“She’s a comely wench,” Jared remarked.

Hardane scowled at his friend. Jared was a handsome young man, tall and lanky, with dark brown hair and eyes that always carried a hint of laughter. Women had always flocked to Jared, fawning over him, eager to share his bed. And, gentleman that he was, Jared always obliged them, effortlessly seducing them, the married and the unmarried alike.

Jared’s easy conquest of anything in skirts was one topic that wasn’t often discussed, the one subject where Jared tread softly, always careful in his choice of words. The fact that Hardane had never had a woman was something they rarely discussed, except obliquely. And yet, on occasion, Jared could not help but give in to a little lighthearted teasing.

“Was the bunk a tight fit?” Jared asked, his voice deceptively innocent.

“What?”

“Surely you did not make the wench sleep on the floor.”

“Of course not.”

A smile tugged at the edges of Jared’s mouth. “We will be long at sea,” he mused. “You are indeed fortunate to have such a delectable creature to cuddle with.”

Hardane made a sound of disgust low in his throat. “Don’t you have something better to do than worry about how I spent the night?”

“Aye, my lord,” Jared replied with a grin. Turning on his heel, he sauntered across the deck, whistling softly.

For Hardane, the hours seemed to pass with unusual slowness. Usually, he enjoyed being aboard ship, exulting in the power of the waves beneath him. The sea air was invigorating and he loved nothing more than running into the wind, or facing the challenge of a gale, pitting his wits against the elements.

But now he could think of little but the woman who occupied his cabin. Time and again he made excuses to go below decks—he needed a drink, a compass, his charts. Each time, he lingered longer than necessary in his quarters. Each time, he was struck anew by Kylene’s beauty.

She was still seasick, though not as bad as the day before. He sent her broth laced with ginger, and warm watered wine. And each time he saw her lying in his