Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,98

moisture from her cheeks, and then his mouth covered hers. As always, her nearness fanned the embers of desire until he felt as though his very blood were afire.

Hardane caressed her with his lips and his eyes, and everywhere he touched, her body came to life. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her thighs parting to receive him. And for a brief moment, there was nothing in all the world but the two of them, life reaching out to life as their hearts and souls entwined, love engulfed by love.

Something was wrong. Kylene sat up, her heart pounding with dread. In the darkness, she reached out for Hardane, only to find the bed empty beside her.

Truly worried now, she lit a candle and glanced around the chamber. There was no sign of Hardane.

Frowning, she slipped out of bed and drew on a heavy fleece-lined wrapper. Holding the candle in one hand, she crossed the floor, opened the chamber door, and peered into the corridor. All was dark.

She hesitated for a moment and then, as though guided by an invisible hand, she made her way down the stairs, through the main hall, and down the passageway that led to the gardens behind the keep.

When she reached the narrow door that led to the gardens, she blew out the candle and left it on a nearby table. Then, taking a deep breath, she lifted the latch and stepped into the yard.

It was like stepping into another world. Overhead, the moon was full and bright, almost blinding in its intensity. A fountain bubbled in a corner of the yard; tall trees stood like sentinels in the darkness, their leaves whispering a requiem to the dead.

The rich scent of flowers and earth hung heavy in the air. And there, in the midst of the garden, she saw a half dozen wolves gathered together. One lay beside the fountain, its head between its paws, while the others stood around it, their tails lowered. She hadn’t made a sound since she stepped into the yard, yet one wolf, the tallest of them, immediately swung around to face her.

It was Hardane. In spite of the distance between them, she felt the touch of his eyes on her face, felt the heavy sadness that permeated his whole being, and she knew, without being told, that Lord Kray had passed away in the night.

Hardane, I’m so sorry. She spoke the words in her mind, and the wolf nodded its head. She glanced at the prone wolf and knew that it was Sharilyn; knew, without knowing how she knew, that the other wolves were related to Hardane’s mother, that they had come to share her grief in the loss of her husband.

She was turning to go, to leave them to mourn in private, when she heard Hardane’s voice in her mind.

Stay. I need you here.

She met his gaze and nodded. There was a small wrought-iron bench beside the doorway and Kylene sat down, wanting to remain unobtrusive.

For a long time, the wolves simply sat there, and then, one by one, they lifted their heads, their voices rising on the night wind in a long lament that bespoke their sorrow, their loss.

The anguished cries sent a shiver down Kylene’s spine, and she thought she had never heard anything as sad, as heartbreaking, as the sound of those melancholy howls as members of the Wolffan clan mourned the passing of a loved one.

One by one, the wolves stepped forward to lick Sharilyn’s face, and then, like shadows before a storm, they disappeared into the darkness until only Sharilyn and Hardane remained.

With a low growl, Sharilyn rose to her feet. She rubbed against Hardane a moment, whining softly, and then trotted away.

Almost immediately, Hardane assumed his own shape.

As always, the incredible sight of wolf transforming into man trapped Kylene’s breath in her throat. It was an amazing thing to watch, mesmerizing, frightening.

And then Hardane was walking toward her, and her breath escaped in an audible sigh of relief that he was again the man she knew and loved.

She rose to meet him, her arms outstretched to enfold him.

“I’m sorry” she murmured, drawing him to her, “so sorry.”

“He went in his sleep,” Hardane said, his voice thick with unshed tears. “He never woke up. My mother . . .” He took a deep, steadying breath. “She’s grieving, not only for his death, but because she was denied the opportunity to tell him good-bye.”

Kylene’s arms tightened around him. There was nothing she could say