Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,44

bond is growing stronger,” Hardane remarked.

She could think of nothing to say. Hand in hand, they went down the wide stone stairway that led to the dining hall.

Kylene’s stomach fluttered nervously when she saw Sharilyn and Lord Kray sitting at the table.

Hardane’s parents greeted her warmly. Sharilyn smiled at Kylene, her appreciation for Kylene’s help in restoring Hardane’s health shining in her eyes.

Lord Kray nodded in her direction, his expression speculative, and Kylene knew he was wondering if she was indeed Carrick’s daughter, even though she had told him that such a thing was impossible.

Kylene was decidedly uncomfortable during the course of the meal. Troubled by chaotic thoughts, she was hardly aware of what she ate, if she ate at all. She kept hearing Hardane promise that he would never let her go, that she was his, always and forever. A warmth flooded her as she remembered hearing his words of love in her mind.

They had just finished the last course when a messenger hurried into the dining hall.

“What is it, Parah?” Lord Kray asked.

“We have a visitor, milord,” Parah said, his words tumbling forth in a rush. “A most auspicious visitor.”

Lord Kray sat forward expectantly. “Who is it?”

Parah took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out in a long, slow sigh, as if he relished the moment of drama and hated to see it end.

“Parah . . .” Lord Kray’s voice spoke of his growing impatience.

“Lord Carrick’s seventh daughter.”

Sharilyn and Lord Kray exchanged astonished glances, and then Sharilyn looked at Hardane, who was frowning.

Kylene sat motionless, her face drained of color.

“Show her in,” Lord Kray commanded.

The air in the dining hall seemed to crackle with expectation as they awaited the arrival of Lord Carrick’s daughter.

Kylene felt as if someone had drained the very life from her limbs. She looked at Hardane, and even as her eyes moved lovingly over him, it seemed to her that he was moving farther and farther away even though he remained seated beside her.

In moments, a lady swept into the room, her bearing regal in spite of her tattered gown.

Kylene gasped as she stared into the woman’s face. It was like looking into a mirror.

“May I introduce the Lady Selene,” Parah said in his most formal voice.

There was a long moment while everyone in the room looked from Selene to Kylene and back again.

Lord Kray recovered first. “Welcome, Lady Selene,” he said, rising to his feet. Crossing the room, he extended his hand.

“Thank you, my lord,” Selene replied, dropping a proper curtsey.

“This is my wife, Lady Sharilyn, and my son, Hardane. And this,” he said, gesturing at Kylene, “can only be your sister.”

“Yes, Kylene,” Selene murmured. She stared at her twin for a long moment and then, as if suddenly remembering where she was, she bowed to Sharilyn, then turned the full warmth of her smile on Hardane.

“Twins,” Hardane said, glancing from one to the other.

“Yes,” Selene said. “Won’t you embrace me, sister?” she asked, and held out her arms.

Still stunned at the realization that she had a sister, Kylene crossed the room. For a moment, she stared into Selene’s eyes, eyes so like her own, and then she put her arms around her sister. She felt no warmth in the gesture, no sense of unity, of kinship.

And then Selene was hugging her back, and for a moment Kylene felt as if she were trapped in a dark cave.

With a start, Kylene dropped her arms to her sides and stepped away. She saw Sharilyn and Lord Kray smiling at the two of them, obviously touched by what looked like a warm reunion. Kylene frowned. Had she imagined the sense of darkness that had swept over her? She glanced at Hardane, wondering if he’d been aware of it, but his expression was closed to her.

Selene felt a sense of relief as the contact was broken. Turning away from her sister, she smiled at the man she intended to marry. He was more handsome than she had dared hope. Tall and broad-shouldered, he exuded the kind of raw masculinity that was impossible to ignore.

“Selene, won’t you please sit down,” Sharilyn invited, gesturing at the chair beside her.

“Thank you.” Selene sat down and folded her hands in her lap. It was said that the Lady Sharilyn was descended from the Wolffan, but now, looking at the petite woman, Selene dismissed what she’d heard as scullery gossip.

But it was Hardane who held her gaze. “My lord,” she murmured. “I hope you will forgive me for