Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,108

brothers have all been warned. The next move is up to Renick.”

“Wait?” Carrick exclaimed. “That’s all, just wait?”

“My men have been preparing for battle ever since we heard of Bourke’s death,” Hardane replied, the edge in his voice indicating he didn’t care for Carrick’s implication that he didn’t know what he was doing. “Supplies are being brought into the castle in case of a siege. The townspeople and farmers are making what preparations they can. Have I forgotten anything?”

Carrick grinned sheepishly. “No.”

“It’s late,” Sharilyn said, rising to her feet. “I’m going to bed.”

“Good sleep, Mother,” Hardane said, giving her a hug.

“Rest well, son. You, too, Kylene.” She turned to Carrick. “Good evening to you, sir.”

“Madam.” Carrick bowed formally, a smile playing over his lips as he watched Sharilyn leave the room, and then he, too, took his leave.

It was a look that was not lost on Kylene. “Well,” she said, “what do you make of that?”

“I think your father’s in love with my mother.”

“And do you think she’s in love with him?”

“I know it.”

“You know it? How?”

“I just know.”

“But . . . but she’s still in mourning. Isn’t she?”

“Perhaps.”

“Do you think they’ll get married?”

Hardane nodded. “Before the year is out, I should think.”

Rain or shine, Hardane’s men trained in the inner courtyard. From dawn to dusk the sounds of sword against sword and sword against shield rang in the air until Kylene no longer noticed it.

Hardane often trained alongside his men. Whenever possible, Kylene watched them from the parapet above the courtyard. Though she hated to think he would actually go to war, she loved to watch Hardane in action. He moved with such assurance, such inborn grace, that she never tired of watching him. He swung his sword as if it were made of rolled parchment instead of heavy steel, easily besting every opponent.

She watched with pride as her father took to the field. Despite the fact that he was older than many of the other men, he fought tirelessly, and was rarely defeated.

Even the servants took their turn on the training ground. Parah was clumsy and less than enthusiastic, but Teliford wielded his sword with vigor.

Best of all, Kylene enjoyed watching Hardane put his big gray war-horse through its paces. The stallion moved effortlessly, wheeling, rearing, turning left and then right, horse and rider so keenly attuned to one another they seemed like one being. So beautiful were they to watch, it was almost as if they were dancing instead of practicing for battle.

In the evening, she watched the furtive glances, the shared smiles, the touches that passed between her father and Sharilyn. A blind man could have seen that they were smitten with each other. Kylene was happy that her father had apparently found someone to love, but she couldn’t help being a bit shocked at how soon Sharilyn seemed to have gotten over her husband’s demise.

In Mouldour, it was customary for a woman to remain in seclusion at least a year after the death of her husband. But this wasn’t Mouldour.

“The Wolffan don’t stop living when someone dies,” Hardane told her one evening. “The grief is still there, the pain lingers, but they don’t mourn the way your people do. It doesn’t mean she didn’t love my father, or that she doesn’t miss him. It’s just that the Wolffan have a deeper understanding of how brief our life span is. It may seem disrespectful to you, but not to us. Why should my mother waste a year of her life in seclusion when it changes nothing? When she could be spending that time with your father?”

“And would you be so quick to marry again should you find yourself suddenly widowed?” Kylene asked tartly.

Hardane shook his head, and then he took her hand and placed it over his heart. “There will never be another woman for me, beloved. I understand my people’s beliefs, but in this instance we disagree, and even though I understand how my mother feels and wish her every happiness, I’ll never marry again.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Kylene said. “I wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life alone. It just seems that everything is happening so fast.”

Lifting her hand, he brushed her knuckles with his lips. “You’re the only woman for me, Kylene,” he murmured fervently. “Now and forever.”

It was on the first day of spring that a messenger arrived at the castle with the news that everyone had been dreading: more than two dozen warships flying the black and gold