Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,43
necessary undergarments, thick white stockings, a pair of soft-soled white boots, and a length of fine white ribbon.
Kylene stared at the dress. It was made of finely spun yellow wool, pale and soft. The underskirt was a darker shade of yellow, almost gold. The sleeves were long and full, slashed at intervals to reveal a layer of the same dark gold cloth as the underskirt. A froth of cream-colored lace decorated the square-cut neckline.
Sitting up, she let her hand slide over one sleeve. What would it be like to wear such a dress?
Before she could change her mind, she slipped out of bed, threw off her sleeping gown, and donned the exquisite yellow dress. After braiding her hair and tying it with the ribbon, she stood in front of the mirror and studied her reflection. The yellow of the dress made her hair seem redder, her eyes more brown.
With a sigh of resignation, she started to remove the gown, intending to put on the dreary black habit she had been wearing when she arrived from the Bourne Sisterhouse.
“No.”
Startled, Kylene sent an anxious glance toward the door to find Hardane standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, his slate gray eyes warm with admiration.
“How long have you been there?” Kylene demanded.
“Long enough to know you’ll never wear black again.”
“Members of the Bourne Sisterhouse aren’t allowed to wear colors,” she retorted inanely.
“You’re no longer a member of the Bourne Sisterhouse,” he reminded her.
“The Motherhouse at Mouldour doesn’t—”
“You’ll never go back to the Motherhouse at Mouldour, either.”
“But I . . .”
Hardane crossed the floor in three long strides and took her in his arms.
“You’re mine, Kylene. Have you forgotten what you said last night?”
She hadn’t forgotten, but now, in the cold light of day, it didn’t seem possible. Even if she wanted him, even if he wanted her, he was betrothed to another.
“You’re mine,” Hardane murmured again. “Always and forever mine. I’ll not let you go again.”
His hands slid down her arms, the heat of his touch penetrating her cloth-covered arms, sending shivers up and down her spine. Slowly, deliberately, he took the ribbon from her hair and ran his fingers through the thick braid until her hair fell in a glorious mass around her face and over her shoulders.
Kylene swallowed hard, unable to take her gaze from his face. There was something terribly intimate about the touch of his hands in her hair, something that spoke of possession in the way his hands rested on her shoulders.
Hardane gazed into her eyes, his expression telling her more clearly than words that he found her beautiful, desirable.
“I like it down,” he said, his voice husky.
Kylene blinked up at him, her heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird. “Then I’ll wear it down.”
A slow smile curved the corners of Hardane’s mouth and then he lowered his head and brushed a kiss over her lips. It was no more than a whisper, a promise, but it sent waves of delight crashing through her. She could feel the pressure of his hands on her shoulders, sense his barely controlled passion.
Without conscious thought, she leaned toward him, her arms wrapping around his waist, and he obligingly kissed her again, his lips lingering on hers as he held her close against him.
With a groan, Hardane let her go and took a step back. He took several deep breaths to still the pounding of his heart, and then he took her hand.
“My parents are waiting for us in the dining hall,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.
It took a moment for his words to penetrate the fuzzy web of desire that he’d spun around her with only a kiss. “What? Oh . . .”
Hardane chuckled, pleased by Kylene’s heated response to his kisses, by the way her cheeks pinked with pleasure.
“Your parents! Oh, Hardane, your mother doesn’t want me here.”
He wanted to argue, to put her mind at rest, but he could not lie to her. He knew that, as grateful as his mother was for Kylene’s help in restoring his health, she would never forgive him if he refused to marry Carrick’s daughter. But it couldn’t be helped. Knowing Kylene, loving her, he could not wed another.
Kylene stared up at him, her eyes wide. “You love me?”
Hardane grinned at her. “Are you reading my mind, lady?”
“Did you not speak?”
He shook his head, his eyes glinting with delight. “No, lady.”
Kylene clapped her hand over her mouth, astonished that she had so easily read his mind.