Free Beneath a Midnight Moon by Amanda Ashley Page B

loved a man so much that she had joined him in a watery grave rather than live without him. Such devotion was foreign to her. The only love she knew was the love of the Sisterhood, her love for Him who was the Father of All. She had no knowledge of the kind of love shared between a man and a woman. Indeed, she had never given much thought to carnal love until Hardane walked into her dreams.
    Hardane. He was so handsome, so brave and strong. Surely he had known many beautiful women. She saw the way the maids at the castle looked at him, their eyes wide with admiration and adoration, the way they hurried to do his bidding, vying for his attention. No doubt women were constantly throwing themselves at his feet, yearning for his touch . . .
    She heard the sound of his footsteps behind her, felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment because she had been thinking of him.
    She glanced over her shoulder to see him standing behind her, a large basket over his arm.
    “Perhaps we should eat now,” he suggested.
    His voice, rich and deep, made her skin prickle.
    “I . . . yes,” she stammered, “perhaps we should.”
    “Do you want to eat here, or over there in the shade?”
    “In the shade, please.”
    With a curt nod, he spread a blanket under the leafy canopy and began to empty the basket.
    Feeling somewhat ill at ease, Kylene sat down beside him, accepting the plate he offered her. Nan had sent along a veritable feast: sliced venison, biscuits, a loaf of brown bread, a variety of fruit, tea cakes, and ale.
    Kylene ate slowly, ever aware of Hardane’s nearness. It was an uncomfortable meal. Try as she might, she could think of nothing to say to break the awkward silence between them. She wondered if he was having the same trouble, or if his lack of conversation meant he was angry with her.
    Once, glancing up, she caught him watching her, a bemused expression in his eyes. She looked away quickly, but not before she felt the heat of his gaze, the spark of desire that seemed always to vibrate between them.
    Later, sated and drowsy, she curled up on the blanket and closed her eyes. The sound of winged insects and the distant song of a bird lulled her to sleep.
    And he was there, walking through the corridors of her mind, his gray eyes warm with desire. Murmuring her name, he took her into his arms and kissed her, gently at first, and then with a spiraling intensity that left her breathless.
    Be mine, lady, he coaxed. Admit that you’re Carrick’s daughter, and let us be wed in the seventh month, as planned.
    She gazed into his eyes, wishing she could say the words he longed to hear, wishing that she were, indeed, his betrothed. Here, in his arms, with her heart pounding and her blood racing, she put all her lies behind her and knew that it wasn’t the peace and security of the Motherhouse she wanted, but the love of the man who held her in his arms. For an instant of time, she considered lying to him, considered telling him that she was indeed Carrick’s seventh daughter.
    I can’t wait until the time of ripe fruits, she wanted to cry. Marry me today. Now. This minute. But the words would not come. She could not lie to him. Much as she wished it, she could not pretend to be someone she was not.
    He drew her close, crushing her breasts against the solid wall of his chest, letting her feel the heat of his desire. With a wordless cry of pain, she pressed her lips to his, the ache of needing him bringing tears to her eyes.
    Do not cry, lady, all will be well.
    “Do not cry, lady.”
    His voice penetrated her dream, and she opened her eyes to see Hardane stretched out beside her, so close that his breath fanned her face.
    For a timeless moment, they gazed into each other’s eyes, and then his hand slid around the back of her neck and his mouth closed over hers.
    It was a gentle kiss, as light as thistledown, and yet the wonder of it, the beauty of it, suffused her from head to foot, making her heart pound and her blood sing a new