Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,20
Hardane was there. Shirtless, his long legs clad in black leather breeches, his hair flowing down his broad back like ebony-hued silk, he faced a good-looking young man with dark brown hair and dark eyes. She thought it might be Jared, but she couldn’t be sure. It was odd, she thought, that she had no trouble recognizing Hardane, and it occurred to her that she would know him even in the dark. The sunlight danced and shimmered on their swords as they lunged and parried.
Both men moved with innate grace and remarkable speed, yet there was something about Hardane’s movements that set him apart. He moved with catlike ease, supple, lithe. Power radiated from him as he launched a bold attack, driving his opponent back. The corded muscles in his broad back and shoulders rippled with each lunge, and he wielded the blade as though it were a part of him, an extension of his hand.
She heard the sound of his laughter, deep and rich, filled with exultation as his opponent lowered his sword in defeat.
And then he looked up, his gaze meeting hers as he lifted his sword in a salute. Light and fire seemed to fill her whole being when he looked at her. And then he smiled, and it was as if she’d been struck by a thunderbolt. Oh, she thought, the power in that smile. It could melt stone.
His smile broadened, as though he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on her. Then he turned away and draped his arm over his companion’s shoulder, and they walked toward the well in the center of the courtyard.
She couldn’t stop watching him. She watched the muscles ripple in his back and shoulders as he raised the bucket, then took a long drink. Filling the dipper again, he poured the water over his head. To her chagrin, she envied the drops that sluiced down his face and neck, trickling down over his shoulders, his chest. That broad chest, lightly furred with curly black hair that tempted her touch even from a distance.
The mere thought caused her heart to pound in her chest, and she turned away from the window, chiding herself for such improper thoughts. She was bound to the Sisterhood. She had vowed to obey their laws, to be chaste. Somehow, she would find her way back to Mouldour and take her final vows. She would don the heavy black habit of the order, embrace their rules, and forget this man who filled her mind with thoughts she ought not have, who followed her into her dreams, dark sensual dreams that made her wake in the night, her body sheened with perspiration, yearning for things she did not understand.
The next few days passed quietly. She developed a deep admiration for Hardane’s mother, sometimes pretending that Sharilyn was the mother she had never known. Hardane was devoted to his mother. He spoke to her always with love and respect. Kylene envied the bond between them, envied the hugs they exchanged morning and night, the easy affection and gentle repartee they shared. She had never been a part of a real family, never known what it was like to receive a mother’s love, a father’s esteem. The Sisterhood had nurtured her. They had treated her with kindness, with respect, but they had never indulged her, never showered her with affection. Only now did she realize how much she had missed. She felt a yearning to be hugged, to be held.
She took her meals with Hardane and his mother, spent her days working in the flower garden on the east side of the castle, or doing needlework, or simply standing at her window watching Hardane and his friend Jared practice with the sword.
For Kylene, who was accustomed to being busy, to long hours spent washing and mending, cooking and scrubbing, it seemed a life of idleness. In the Motherhouse, one never had time to merely sit and contemplate life, to watch the clouds drift across the sky, to walk through a meadow and gather an armful of flowers. But here, in Hardane’s home, there were servants to do the cooking and the cleaning, to make the beds and change the rushes, to make candles, to beat the dust from the carpets and draperies. Servants to draw water for her bath, to lay out her clothes, to help her dress and arrange her hair.
Sharilyn had given her a dozen gowns, beautiful gowns in rainbow colors, but Kylene could not