Beneath a Midnight Moon

Chapter 30


The Interrogator leaned over the rail, his gaze fixed on the sandy shore of the Argonian coast. The woman, Kylene, had set the prophesy in motion by marrying the future Lord of Argone, but she would not live long enough to bear his children. He would have her head when they returned to Mouldour, and the head of the Wolf of Argone as well, if it were possible.

The Interrogator rubbed his hands together. Once he had fixed it so the prophesy could not come true, the throne of Mouldour would be secure. Bourke’s only child was a bastard by birth. She would be easily disposed of when the time came.

Frowning, the Interrogator stared at the waves lapping at the side of the ship. Once Kylene was eliminated, once the fulfillment of the prophesy was no longer possible, there would be nothing to stop him from taking over the throne. He could take the Princess Selene to wife. She would make a powerful ally. If she shared the throne, the people of Mouldour would more readily accept him as Lord High Ruler since she was Carrick’s daughter, and Carrick had been the rightful Lord High Ruler of Mouldour. The people hated Bourke, but they would give their allegiance to Selene, and to the man who made it possible for her to obtain the throne.

It was worth thinking about, and he thought of little else as the ship made its way toward the Argonian coast.

It was after midnight when they dropped anchor in a placid cove.

In the distance, he heard the sound of a waterfall.





Kylene snuggled against Hardane. Drifting between waking and sleeping, she listened to the sound of the waterfall as it splashed over the rocky mountainside to the river below.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, she gazed at the stars, at the full yellow moon hanging low in the sky. In a few hours it would be dawn, time to return to the keep. Hardane had duties to perform this day.

A rebellion had sprung up in Chadray several days ago, and Lord Kray and his sons had gone to quell it, leaving Hardane in charge of the keep. Most of the able-bodied men of Castle Argone had accompanied Lord Kray.

In the days since his father’s departure, Hardane had been busy from dusk till dawn with castle affairs, but yesterday afternoon he had spirited her out of the keep, insisting he needed a few hours away from the petty complaints of the people.

There had been no need to ask her twice. She had been more than eager to spend time alone with her husband in their favorite retreat.

Kylene turned her head to the side, her gaze moving lovingly over her husband’s profile. It was a decidedly masculine face, all hard lines and planes, his jaw shaded with black bristles.

She ran her hand lightly over his jaw, loving the feel of his coarse black beard beneath her fingertips, and then her hand slid down his chest, lower, lower, toying with the curly black hair that ran straight as an arrow to that part of him that made him a man.

A growl rumbled in Hardane’s throat, and she found her hand trapped in his, found herself staring into the depths of his gray eyes.

“You’re asking for trouble, lady,” he warned.

Kylene widened her eyes in mock innocence. “Trouble, my lord?”

“Aye, lady,” he replied, and before she quite knew how it happened, she was tucked beneath him, her hands imprisoned in his as he bent to claim her lips in a kiss that seared her from head to heel.

“1 could grow to like such trouble,” Kylene murmured.

“Could you, wench?”

“Wench?” She glowered at him. “Wench, is it?”

Hardane grinned impudently. “A wife must be all things to her husband,” he said arrogantly. “Friend, lover . . .” He pressed a kiss to her brow. “Mother, sister. Wench . . .” His lips brushed her cheek. “Lady . . .” His tongue slid across her lower lip. “Mistress.”

Kylene blinked up at him, her expression serious. “Were you ever tempted to take a mistress, my lord wolf?”

Hardane grunted softly as he recalled the day Jared had taken him to the pleasure house of Karos.

“No,” he answered honestly, remembering the disgust he’d felt at being in such a place. “Never.”

He kissed her again. “You’re all the woman I need,” he murmured gruffly. “The only woman I’ll ever need, or want. I . . .”

Abruptly, he released her hands and sat up, his head cocked to one side.

“What is it?” Kylene asked.

“Listen!”

Kylene frowned. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Someone’s coming.” Hardane stood up, his hand reaching for his sword. “Stay here.”

On silent feet, he made his way toward the path that led to the waterfall, a muffled curse rising in his throat as he saw what looked to be a hundred well-armed men riding toward the castle.

He muttered a vile oath as he recognized the man riding at the head of the column. As he watched, a rider approached and the Interrogator signaled for the column to halt.

In the stillness of the morning, Hardane had no trouble overhearing what was said.

“We can take the castle with little trouble,” the rider said. “Lord Kray and most of the men have gone to Chadray to settle a dispute.”

The Interrogator smiled, obviously pleased with this unexpected bit of good news.

“I don’t want the castle, only the woman,” he said. “Everyone else is expendable, but the woman must be taken alive. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And Hardane,” the Interrogator added. “I want him, too, if possible.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“We’ll rest the horses for a quarter of an hour, then press on.”

Hardane stared at the column, his mind racing. He could make a run for the keep and hope he could muster a defense with the men who had remained at the castle, but he knew that such a course of action would inevitably lead to a battle, a battle they couldn’t win against such odds. Even if he managed to get a messenger to his father, even if he managed to hold the Interrogator off until Lord Kray returned from Chadray, there would be lives lost. He couldn’t put Kylene or his mother at risk when there was a chance he could prevent it.

Hardane clenched his fists until his knuckles were white. The Interrogator wanted Kylene, only Kylene . . .

Turning on his heel, Hardane ran back to her.

“What is it?” she asked, her brow furrowed with concern as he snatched up his shirt and thrust it into her hands.

“Dress quickly.” He shook his head as she reached for her undergarments. “There’s no time for that now,” he said. “Hurry.” He was reaching for his breeches as he spoke.

“What is it?” Kylene asked anxiously. “Tell me, please.”

“There’s no time.” Catching her around the waist, he swung her onto the back of his horse. “Ride hard for the keep. Tell my mother the Interrogator is riding toward the castle. She’ll know what to do.”

“The Interrogator? Coming here?” Kylene went cold with fear as she recalled her last encounter with the man. “Where are you going?”

“Kylene, I’ve no time to explain. I’ll come to you as soon as I can. Hurry now!”

She wanted to argue, needed to know where he was going, but the urgency in his eyes, in his voice, kept her protests at bay. Leaning toward him, she kissed him once, hard and quick, and then she dug her heels into the stallion’s flanks and headed for the castle, praying that he would soon follow.

Drawing a deep breath, Hardane willed his body to change. He shuddered convulsively as his large, hard-muscled frame assumed an unfamiliar form, transforming into something smaller, softer, rounder.

And then, praying that his ruse would work, he swung onto the back of Kylene’s mare and urged the horse toward the trail that led to the waterfall.

“There!” The Interrogator pointed at the woman riding toward them, unable to believe his good fortune. “It’s her!”

The Interrogator smiled as the woman reined her horse to a halt, then sawed hard on the reins, wheeling the mare into a tight turn, but it was too late. Before she could escape, four of his men had her surrounded.

One of the men grabbed the mare’s reins and led her back to the Interrogator.

“So, my lady,” the Interrogator said, his voice heavy with sarcasm, “we meet again.”

“What do you want?”

“You, my lady,” he replied, blessing the gods of Mouldour for this unexpected bit of fortuity. “Ivar, turn the column around. We return to the ship at once.”

“What of Hardane?” Ivar asked.

“He’ll come to us.” The Interrogator smiled with malicious glee. “I’ll have them both.”

He chuckled softly. And the throne as well, he mused to himself. All without spilling a drop of blood. The throne. Power. The secret of shape changing. Soon it would all be his. “Bind her hands and bring her along.”





Sharilyn stared at Kylene, hardly able to understand the girl’s words as they tumbled from her mouth.

“The Interrogator. He’s here. Send for Lord Kray. Quickly!”

“The Interrogator?” Sharilyn exclaimed, the very name striking fear to her heart. “What does he want? Why would he come here?”

“He wants me. I don’t know why. And Hardane. He wants Hardane.”

Sharilyn took a deep breath. “Where is Hardane?”

“He stayed behind. He said he’d come as soon as he could . . .” Kylene stared at Sharilyn. “You don’t think . . .”

“Yes,” Sharilyn said, confirming Kylene’s worst fears. “That’s just what I think.”

“But . . . but he said he’d never taken on a woman’s shape.”

“It should be easy for him to assume yours, my daughter. He knows it as well as he knows his own.”

Kylene shook her head, refusing to believe what she knew to be true. Hardane had assumed her shape. He had let the Interrogator take him not only so that she could reach the castle safely, but in hopes of preventing a battle.

“Oh, Hardane,” she murmured. As the full impact of what he’d done hit her, she sank into a chair, staring sightlessly at the floor.

As from a great distance, Kylene heard Sharilyn giving orders to Teliford and the others, and when that was done, Sharilyn sent Parah to check with the lookouts, but all four reported that all was quiet, no enemy in sight.

Hardane’s scheme had worked, Kylene realized. Thinking that he had her in his clutches, the Interrogator had returned to his ship. Even now, he could be making his way toward the Isle of Mouldour.

By the time the Interrogator realized his mistake, the element of surprise would be lost and the people of Castle Argone would be ready for him should he decide to return. A messenger had already been sent to Chadray to inform Lord Kray of what was happening. Riders had been sent to the outlying villages, ordering every village to send a dozen men to help defend the castle.

But none of that mattered to Kylene. Hardane was gone, perhaps forever.

A single tear slipped down her cheek as she wrapped her hands over her stomach in a protective gesture as old as time and began to rock back and forth.