Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,88
of a warrior,” Kray murmured, “and you have my heart as well.”
“As you have mine,” Sharilyn replied fervently. “Do you think Hardane made it to safety?”
“Aye, beloved.”
“Then I shall die content.”
“Will you, wife? Have you no desire to see your grandchildren?”
A pain sharper than the one inflicted by the Interrogator’s blade pierced Sharilyn’s heart. Never to see Hardane’s twins! Ah, that would be a bitter blow. Still, it was a sacrifice she was willing to make, if only Hardane was safe.
Hardane, her seventh-born son, her favorite son because the blood of the Wolffan ran strong in his veins. Hardane, who shared her love of the wild, who danced with her in the light of a midnight moon. The future of Argone depended upon his survival.
“Sharilyn?”
“Aye?”
“He’ll come back. You know that.”
“Aye, beloved. I . . .” She broke off in midsentence as the sound of footsteps sounded in the passageway.
Moments later, the Interrogator was standing in the corridor outside her cell, a torch in his hand.
“Ah,” Renick exclaimed, pleased to see that Sharilyn had regained consciousness.
He glanced over his shoulder, a low grunt of satisfaction rumbling in his throat when he saw Kray staring back at him.
“What is the meaning of this?” Kray demanded, tugging against the chains that bound his hands and feet.
“You break into my stronghold and have the gall to ask why you are imprisoned?” Renick retorted.
“You had my son.”
“Yes. And I will have him again.”
Kray stared at the Interrogator, chilled by the vicious look in the man’s eyes. “Do as you wish with me, only let my wife go free.”
“I think not,” Renick mused. “I have need of her.”
“To what purpose?”
“I wish to know the secret of the Wolffan,” Renick said, his voice hard and implacable. “It is my intention to mate with your woman, to share the mind bond, to learn the art of shape shifting.”
“Mate with you!” Sharilyn exclaimed. “I’d as soon mate with a pig as with a creature such as yourself.”
“Indeed? And would you withhold yourself from me if it meant your husband’s life would be forfeit?”
“What a coward you are, my lord Interrogator, to think to threaten me with my husband’s life.”
“Coward, am I? Think what you will, but you will give me that which I desire, or I will kill your husband an inch at a time, and your son as well.”
“You’re mad,” Kray exclaimed in horror. “Don’t you think if the secrets of the Wolffan could be given to others that Sharilyn would have long ago shared them with me?”
Kray’s words pierced Renick’s anger. What if Kray spoke the truth? And what if he was lying in an attempt to gain his freedom and that of his wife?
“We shall see,” Renick mused. “When the woman’s wounds have healed, we shall see. Sewar!” Renick called, speaking to the guard waiting at the far end of the corridor. “Advise the men we’ll be leaving for Castle Mouldour at first light.”
A cry of impotent rage rose in Kray’s throat as the Interrogator took the torch and stalked out of the dungeon, plunging them into darkness as deep as his despair.
Chapter 40
“Get back into bed!” Kylene glared at Hardane, her hands fisted on her hips. “Right now!” she said, practically shouting the words.
“I’ve been in this blasted bunk over a week. That’s long enough!”
“Hardane of Argone, you are the most stubborn man I’ve ever known.”
“I’m the only man you’ve ever known!” he retorted irritably. “Now give me my breeches so I can get up.”
“No.”
“By all the saints, Kylene, I’ve a mind to turn you over my knee.”
His dark gray eyes really looked like thunderclouds now, she thought.
“Kylene!”
She cocked her head to one side, a smile flitting over her lips. “Are we having our first fight, my lord wolf?”
He grinned back at her. “So it would seem.” He swung his legs over the bunk, biting back an oath as the movement sent long tendrils of pain skittering up and down the length of his thigh. “And I mean to win it.”
“Please, Hardane, just one more day in bed. You need the rest.”
“I can’t, Kylene. I can’t leave my parents in that dungeon another day. Don’t ask it of me.”
She relented immediately, touched by the pleading in his eyes, the urgency in his voice.
“I’m going with you,” she said, handing him his breeches.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Kylene . . .”
“Hardane . . .”
He glared at her as he pulled on his breeches and then, with a sigh of resignation, he drew her into his arms. Ah, but it felt good