Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,50

had been the torture of watching his brothers pay court to Kylene. Dubrey took her walking each morning. Dace deluged her with love sonnets that praised her beauty. Dirk and Garth sang duets under her window at eventide. Liam wrote poetry.

Hardane swore under his breath. He’d had no chance to spend time with Kylene, no opportunity to speak to her alone. And yet he didn’t need to talk to her to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling. He knew. She thought he had deceived her, betrayed her. She was hurt by his lack of attention, pleased and confused by the sincere flattery of his brothers.

Though he’d been tempted to walk in her dreams, he’d restrained himself, his sense of honor refusing to let him be unfaithful to Selene, even though he felt nothing for her. He had, on occasion, tried to walk in Selene’s mind, to see her thoughts, but to no avail. His inability to connect with her bothered him greatly, reinforcing his suspicion that she wasn’t the woman meant for him.

He stood abruptly, the truth so obvious he wondered why he hadn’t realized it before.

Selene and Kylene were twins, but only one could be the seventh daughter; in his heart he knew that Selene had not been the firstborn of the two, but the second.

It explained everything.

Kylene sat in her room, staring dolefully at her reflection in the looking glass, wondering how she would endure the night to come. She would have to smile and look pleased when Selene and Hardane were presented to the people. She would have to bestow a sisterly kiss of affection on Selene’s cheek, offer her congratulations to Hardane.

She had to leave this place. She could not stay here, see them together every day, know that Selene slept beside Hardane at night. Tomorrow, she would ask Lord Kray to send her to Bierly or Dunsmere, or even back to Mouldour. She would willingly face the Lord High Interrogator again rather than stay here and watch Selene gather happiness with both hands.

But first she had to get through the ball.

She smoothed her hands over her skirt. Her gown was of pale ice blue, trimmed in white fur. A fine silver chain circled her neck. She had refused Hadj’s offer to arrange her hair. Instead, she wore it loose around her shoulders because Hardane liked it that way.

Hardane. How empty this past week had been without him.

A knock at the door told her it was time to make her entrance. Taking a deep breath, she picked up a white feather fan and left her bedchamber, knowing that, if she could get through this night, she could face anything the future might hold.

The ballroom was aglow with the light of a thousand candles. Women gowned in all the colors of the rainbow danced with men clad in starkly elegant evening clothes. Music filled the air.

Feeling shy and completely out of place, Kylene took a place near the doorway, half-hidden by the lacy fronds of a giant fern.

As if by magic, her gaze was immediately drawn toward Hardane. He was dancing with Selene, and Kylene felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him. Hardane was dressed in black save for a white shirt that complemented his swarthy good looks and dark hair. He’d never looked more handsome, more desirable, more unapproachable.

Kylene looked at her sister. Wearing a gown of emerald green trimmed in white fur, Selene looked every inch a princess, a perfect mate for Hardane. Her eyes glowed as she gazed into Hardane’s eyes.

Kylene looked away, unable to bear the sight of the two of them together. Soon, too soon, Selene would be Hardane’s bride. Try as she might, she could not find it in her heart to be happy for her sister. Instead, she was torn with envy, so jealous she was almost sick with it.

She couldn’t stay here, she thought, she couldn’t listen to Lord Kray announce their official betrothal, couldn’t lift her glass and join with the castle guests as they toasted Selene’s health and happiness.

She was turning to leave when she felt a hand on her arm. She stilled instantly, knowing who it was that stood behind her. She would know the touch of his hand in the dark.

“Kylene.”

“My lord.”

“Look at me.”

“No. Please, let me go.”

“I can’t. Dance with me.”

“I don’t know how.”

“I’ll teach you.”

It was useless to argue. Helplessly, she let him draw her out onto the dance floor. It was heaven to be