Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,80

also need protecting in the event of an attack.

Kylene had been surprised to learn that some of Hardane’s brothers had their own castles. She’d once asked Dubrey if he didn’t occasionally feel jealous that his youngest brother would one day inherit the throne. It was then she’d learned that Hardane’s three oldest brothers had land and holdings of their own.

“There’s no need for us to be jealous,” Dubrey had assured her. “We knew from the day of his birth that he would rule Argone. There’s always been something special about Hardane. Not just the fact that the blood of the Wolffan is strong within him. The people love him. As you do.”

As you do . . . The words repeated in her mind.

“Please, let him be all right,” she prayed fervently. “And please,” she added as her stomach churned with nausea, “please let this voyage be over soon.”

She’d been sick ever since they lost sight of land, and nothing seemed to help, but she didn’t care. She knew she’d endure anything, take any risk, to free Hardane from the bowels of the Fortress. She thought of him constantly, praying that he was well, that he was still alive.

Her nights had been filled with nightmare images of the ship filling with water, slowly sinking beneath the waves. She felt the cold water closing over her, heard the sound of terrified screams, her own and those of her unborn children.

Just one good night’s sleep, she thought. If she could just have one good night’s sleep . . .

“Kylene.”

His voice, deep and vibrant, called to her.

“Hardane?”

“Lady.”

Relief, sweeter than Mouldourian honey, washed through her as he took her in his arms and held her close.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

She nodded, unable to speak for the rush of emotions that swelled within her breast. She gazed into his eyes, warming herself in the love she saw reflected there. His hands stroked her arms, caressed her breasts, rested on the slight swell of her belly.

“I’ve missed you.” He lifted one hand to cup the back of her head as he bent toward her, his mouth slanting over hers.

He kissed her with such exquisite tenderness it brought tears to her eyes, and she pressed herself against him, needing to feel his nearness, his strength, wishing she could somehow slip inside of him and never let him go.

“Love me,” she begged. “Love me now.”

He breathed her name as he swept her into his arms and carried her to bed. Gently, he kissed and caressed her, his hands playing over her willing flesh until she was on fire for him, until she had to touch him in return. He filled her senses, until there was nothing in all the world but the sight and taste and touch of Hardane, the sound of his voice murmuring that he loved her, would always love her.

Caught up in the never-ending wonder of his nearness, she followed him up, up, to the heights of desire, his name a cry on her lips as their bodies merged, heart to heart and soul to soul.

She was drifting, floating on a sea of sensation and satisfaction. He was here, beside her, and nothing else mattered . . .

“Go back.”

She frowned at the urgency in his voice.

“Kylene, you must tell my father to return to Argone.”

She woke abruptly, her body sheened with perspiration. “Hardane?”

“Tell my father to turn the ship around. There’s nothing you can do.”

She sat staring into the darkness for several moments, stunned by the realization that it had all been a dream.

But there was nothing imaginary about the voice in her head, Hardane’s voice, warning her to turn back.

Sitting up, she shook her head. “No, my lord wolf,” she murmured into the darkness. “I’ll not leave you there.”

“Go back, lady . . . go back . . .”

His voice, filled with pleading, grew faint and then was gone.

Sharilyn listened quietly as Kylene told of hearing Hardane’s voice warning them to turn back. He was alive, at least, she thought, relieved.

“You don’t think it was just a dream, do you?” Kylene asked.

“No, child.”

“Don’t tell Lord Kray,” Kylene begged. “I’m afraid he’ll insist we go back to Argone.”

“Nothing will make us turn back, Kylene. You needn’t worry about that. We’ll reach Mouldour tomorrow night.” Sharilyn placed her hand over Kylene’s. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ll be all right.”

“You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine, really. Just a little queasy.”

“We’ll find him, Kylene. I promise you that.” Sharilyn gave Kylene’s hand a squeeze. “Get some