Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,26
needing a woman. Until Kylene entered his life, he’d been able to keep his sexual tension under control by constantly keeping busy, by training for battle, by working such long hours during the day that he went to bed utterly exhausted.
But now, no matter how hard he worked, how tired he was when he sought his bedchamber, there was no respite from the hunger that plagued him. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to give his body the release it needed just this once.
“Well?” Jared looked up at Hardane, his fists resting on his hips. “Are you ready to be a man?”
“Yes.”
A broad smile played over Jared’s lips as he opened the iron door and ushered Hardane inside. He felt no guilt at urging Hardane to break the promise made to Sharilyn. He understood Sharilyn’s reasoning, but he also felt a strong loyalty to Hardane and it grieved him to see his friend hurting when there was no need for it. Sometimes a man needed a woman, any woman.
Hardane noticed the smell first. The heavy mixture of perfume and powder and the faintly pungent scent of incense. A tall, yellow-haired woman came forward to meet them, her lithe body enveloped in a gossamer gown of purple silk.
“Jared,” she purred, extending a slender hand. “How good to see you again.” She saw Hardane then, recognition and surprise flickering in her eyes.
Before she could speak Hardane’s name and thus draw attention to the future ruler of Argone, Jared said, “Susna, this is my friend, Brayce. He’s visiting from Chadray.”
“I see,” Susna murmured, a knowing smile playing over her lips as she realized she would be well paid to keep Lord Hardane’s visit a secret. “Welcome, Brayce. I hope you’ll come back often.”
Hardane nodded, his senses reeling.
“What type of woman do you prefer?” Susna asked.
“He wants a redhead,” Jared replied. “About this tall, with brown eyes and pale skin. Young. Not too experienced.”
“I see.” Susna smiled at Hardane. “You’ll find what you’re looking for upstairs in room seven.” She glanced at Jared. “Mina is waiting for you.”
Jared slapped Hardane on the back. “Shall we?”
Heart pounding, Hardane followed Jared up the long staircase, then down a dark hall.
“This is it,” Jared said, stopping in front of a blue door. “Room seven. I’ll meet you downstairs in . . . an hour?”
Hardane nodded, then watched as Jared continued down the hall, stopping in front of a yellow door.
Glancing over his shoulder, Jared grinned at Hardane, then opened the door and stepped into the room.
Hardane took a deep breath. What was he doing here? He was about to turn away when the door opened and he found himself staring at one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her skin was like porcelain, her eyes a deep brown, her body ripe and firm. A curtain of red hair fell over her breasts and down her back, almost to the floor.
“Come in,” she murmured, her voice low and husky. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
When he hesitated, she took him by the hand and led him into the room, softly closing the door behind her.
His gaze darted around the room. It was blue—floor and walls and ceiling. There was a large mirror on one wall, a small chair and a table in the far corner. And a bed, the biggest bed he had ever seen, covered with a blue counterpane.
“Have you been here before?” the woman asked in the same sultry voice.
“No.”
She closed the distance between them, her hips swaying provocatively. “Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.” Her arms slid around his neck, her breasts pressing against his chest as her mouth covered his.
With a cry of desperation, Hardane put his arms around her and kissed her back. His nostrils filled with the scent of perfumed hair and the musky scent of a willing woman. Her skin was warm under his hands, her lips pliant, her body humming with readiness and desire.
And he felt nothing but disgust.
For the woman.
For himself.
With a low growl, he twisted out of her arms and backed away, his mind filling with Kylene’s image. He didn’t want to bed an experienced courtesan; he wanted to share Kylene’s sweet innocence, to savor her virginity as he lost his own.
The woman looked up at him, confused. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “I . . . I can’t.”
“Can’t?” Her gaze moved over him, coolly assessing his masculinity. “Is there something wrong with you?” she asked candidly.