Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,18

the lack, Hardane said it had ever been so, that no shrubs or trees were allowed to grow close to the road because of the danger of ambush in times of war.

It seemed they’d been climbing for hours when the road straightened and Kylene saw Hardane’s ancestral home for the first time.

A soft sigh of wonder escaped her lips as she stared at the beautiful edifice. Constructed of white stone, it seemed to shimmer with a pale golden light in the last rays of the setting sun. Blue and white banners fluttered from the towers.

As they drew near, she saw that there was a wide moat, an enormous drawbridge, a well-fortified gatehouse. Mounted men wearing the blue and white of Argone rode out to meet them, escorting them across the bridge.

Two men hurried up to the carriage. One took the reins; the other helped Kylene out of the coach. They bowed respectfully to Hardane before leading the horses toward the stable.

As Hardane and Kylene neared the entrance to the castle, a tall, gray-haired man opened the door. He bowed low, then informed Hardane that his mother could be found in the Blue Tower.

Hardane smiled reassuringly at Kylene, then held out his hand. “Ready, lady?” he asked.

Kylene took a deep breath. “Ready,” she said, and placed her hand in his, praying all the while that she wouldn’t do or say anything to embarrass him, that his mother would like her, that she might stay here, in the heart of Paradise, forever.

Chapter 12

Kylene stared at Hardane’s mother. Perhaps, deep down, she had expected to find someone who resembled a wolf, but the woman who fairly flew across the room to greet her son didn’t resemble a wolf in the least. She was small-boned, petite, with waist-length black hair and eyes as dark as midnight. Her skin was golden brown, smooth and clear.

“Hardane!” she cried, and threw her arms around her son, tears of joy welling in her eyes. She held him for a long time, her face buried against his chest.

Kylene felt a tug at her heart as she watched the two embrace. Hardane bent his head, his cheek pressed to his mother’s, his eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears.

Feeling as if she were intruding, Kylene backed toward the door, only to be brought up short by the sound of Hardane’s voice.

“Mother, I’ve brought a guest.” He raised his head and smiled at Kylene over his mother’s shoulder. “Kylene, this is my mother, Sharilyn. Mother, this is Kylene of Mouldour.”

Sharilyn dabbed at her eyes with a delicate kerchief. “Forgive me, Kylene, but I’ve not seen my son for several months.”

“Of course,” Kylene said. She curtsied as she had been taught. “I am pleased to meet you, my lady.”

Sharilyn smiled. Gliding across the floor, she took Kylene’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “We’re not very formal here, child. Please, call me Sharilyn. Everyone does. She’s lovely, Hardane. Have you made plans for the wedding?”

“Wedding?” Hardane stared at his mother blankly for a moment, and then muttered an oath. “She’s not Carrick’s daughter.”

“She’s not?”

“No.”

Sharilyn’s gaze darted from her son’s face to Kylene’s. “Then who is she?”

“A foundling, my lady,” Kylene replied. “Lord Hardane rescued me from the hands of the Executioner.”

Sharilyn shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a long story, mother mine, and we’ve been on the road since dawn.”

“Of course.” Sharilyn smiled at Kylene. “No doubt you’d like to bathe and change your clothes.” She clapped her hands twice. Immediately, a young girl dressed in a long brown tunic hurried into the room. “Hadj, take our guest upstairs and make her comfortable. She’ll want hot water for a bath, and a change of clothes. Brushes, soap, toweling.”

“Yes, my lady,” Hadj replied. Turning to Kylene, she offered a tentative smile. “This way, miss.”

Kylene looked at Hardane, reluctant to leave his presence, afraid she’d never see him again.

“Go with Hadj, lady,” he said. “I’ll send for you as soon as Cook has prepared us something to eat.”

Stifling the urge to seek shelter in his arms, she followed the maid up a long, winding staircase, down a wide, well-lit corridor, and into a room that was almost as large as the Motherhouse at Mouldour.

“Make yourself comfortable, miss,” Hadj said. “I’ll be back soon with water for your bath.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ll like it here, miss,” Hadj said with a reassuring smile. “Lady Sharilyn is very kind.”

“I’m sure she is. And Lord Hardane, is he also kind?”

A dreamy expression softened the girl’s features. “Lord Hardane is