Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,7

Would his body burn for his betrothed as it burned for this woman who had pledged her life to the Sisterhood?

A soft oath escaped his lips as he left the cave, hoping the cold breath of the night wind would cool his heated flesh.

Kylene stared at the earthen ceiling overhead. Where was she?

A sound drew her attention and she saw Hardane outlined in the entrance to the cave. It all came back to her then, their wild ride through the night, his transformation, the knowledge that he had mistaken her for someone else. Strange, the pain that lanced her heart when she thought of him with another woman.

She stared at him, mesmerized by the sheer masculine beauty of the man. She’d had little contact with men. Those she had seen now seemed ordinary when compared with Hardane. Almost without exception, the men of Mouldour were fair of hair and skin. Few were as tall as Hardane; none wore their hair as long.

She fought an almost uncontrollable urge to go to him, to run her fingers through his thick black hair, to caress the broad expanse of bronzed flesh visible beneath the black leather vest that he wore. Black breeches hugged his long, muscular legs; soft black leather boots covered his feet.

Hardane endured her scrutiny in amused silence. Though he had little experience with women, he had no trouble reading the blatant admiration in Kylene’s eyes. For one brief, unguarded moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to take her in his arms. Would she fight him? Would he let her go if she did?

He shook the thought from his mind. There were women who would assuage his hunger if he couldn’t wait until his wedding night. Thus far, he had managed to keep his baser needs under control. But Kylene’s mere presence was a temptation he was hard-pressed to resist. The shapeless brown wool dress, with its high neck and loose-fitting sleeves, did little to disguise her soft, sweet curves.

“It’s time to go, lady,” he said, his voice strangely thick.

She ignored the hand he offered her. Scrambling to her feet, she groaned softly. A night spent on cold ground had left her stiff and aching. When she tried to give him his cloak, he shook his head.

“Put it on,” he said tersely. And turning on his heel, he left the cave.

Kylene frowned, puzzled by his curt tone, and then she sighed. No doubt he was angry because he had put his life in danger to rescue her, only to discover that he had rescued the wrong woman.

Wrapping the cloak around her shoulders, she hurried after him. It wouldn’t do to make him more angry than he was. She had no wish to be left behind, no wish to fall into the hands of the Interrogator once more. She wondered briefly what Hardane had done to the real Executioner. Had he killed the man? There were times when she looked into his eyes that she thought him capable of such a thing, and yet, at other times, he seemed the most gentle of men.

At the foot of the hill, he lifted her onto the back of the gray mare, then mounted his own horse, swinging effortlessly onto the stallion’s back.

It took only a moment for Kylene to realize that sleeping on the cold ground hadn’t eased the awful ache in her thighs, back, and buttocks. Every step the mare took added to her discomfort, making her wonder if she would still be able to walk when the journey was over.

It was an hour’s ride to the Sea of Mouldour. Clinging to the horse’s mane, Kylene closed her eyes, grateful that her torment would soon be over even though she dreaded the thought of a sea voyage, dreaded the thought of days spent upon the water, helpless, prey to wind and weather. She’d been terrified of the sea since childhood, though she didn’t know why.

The Sea of Mouldour loomed ahead, a vast expanse of bright water sparkling in the sunlight. A small ship rocked gently in a quiet inlet.

Kylene felt a shiver of apprehension at the thought of spending days, perhaps weeks, aboard ship.

Numb in mind and body, she followed Hardane down the narrow winding path that led to the bay.

A half-dozen men hurried toward them when they reached the dock. Smiles wreathed the men’s faces as they welcomed Hardane, slapping him on the back, shaking his hand, grabbing him in fierce hugs. Only when their exuberance began to