Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,33

people learned early in life that they couldn’t have everything they wanted.

Sharilyn admitted it was partly her fault that it was a lesson Hardane was learning only now. But he had been her last-born son, the seventh son of a seventh son, and because she had known of the hardships that awaited him, she had cherished him and spoiled him beyond measure. She knew now that it had been a disservice to let him believe he could have everything he wanted simply because he wanted it.

Hardane rose to his feet heavily, crossed the floor, and gazed out the window, staring at the forest. Beyond the trees lay the tall gray buildings of the Bourne Sisterhouse. And Kylene.

He had spent a sleepless night, tormented by his longing to walk in her dreams and the knowledge that he had no right to violate her. She had fled the castle to escape him, and he would respect her wishes. But the knowledge that he could go to her, that he could touch her again, hold her in his arms, even if it was only in her dreams, was tearing him apart.

He sensed his mother’s presence behind him, felt her arms circle his waist. “It will pass, Hardane. Only give it time.”

He nodded bleakly, not believing her.

“Won’t you trust me, son?” she asked quietly.

“I love her. I . . . I did something I shouldn’t have.”

Sharilyn’s arms tightened around Hardane’s waist. “Tell me.”

“I seduced her.”

“No!”

“Only in her dreams, mother mine, but it could not have been more real if she’d been in my arms.”

Sharilyn uttered a wordless cry of despair. For the Wolffan, the line between reality and dreams was very fine indeed. Sometimes, what happened in the netherworld of sleep was more meaningful, more significant, than anything that happened in the clear light of day.

“I’m going after my father,” Hardane said. “I’ve already alerted my men. We leave on the evening tide.”

“Can you not wait for Dirk and Garth to return? They should be home within a fortnight.”

Hardane shook his head. Much as he would have liked to have had his brothers at his side, he couldn’t wait.

Sharilyn nodded, knowing there was nothing she could say to change his mind. And perhaps, she thought, it was better not to try.

With a sigh, she pressed her cheek to his back. “Be careful, Hardane,” she murmured. “Your people are depending on you.”

He nodded, but she knew him too well. He wanted the danger, the adventure, seeking it as an alternative to the pain he was feeling, as men had always run toward danger when they were running away from a deep inner hurt.

“Be careful,” she repeated, and then he was gone.

He stood on the quarterdeck of the Sea Dragon, gazing out across the water, his face into the wind. Kylene had run away from him, run to the safety of the Bourne Sisterhouse, knowing he could not follow her there. He could not blame her, not after what he’d done, and yet the thought that she’d run from him hurt as few things in his life had hurt.

He was the seventh son of a seventh son and as such, he was heir to the throne. And because he was to be the next Lord of Argone, little in life had been denied him. He’d never thought of himself as being pampered but, in retrospect, he supposed he had been. People had always deferred to him. At first it had been because he was the heir, but later, as he grew to manhood, he had earned their respect, earned it with his sword on the battlefield; on shipboard, with his crew; and, more recently, in running the affairs of the land while his father was imprisoned. He had always done what was expected of him, always done what was right even when it wasn’t what he, himself, wanted.

He wanted Kylene.

With an oath, he began to pace the quarterdeck, relishing the sting of the wind in his face, the smell of the salt air. Perhaps two weeks at sea would clear her image forever from his mind.

And perhaps the sea would freeze over and the sky would melt, he thought ruefully.

The bells. Her life was ruled by the bells. Five bells roused her from her hard, narrow cot in the morning, four sent her to prayers, three directed her to the refectory for the morning meal. Another four bells sent her back to the chapel for midmorning prayers; two told her it was time to take her