Hardane stared at Jared, a frown creasing his brow. "What are we doing here?"
A hint of mischief danced in Jared's brown eyes. "It's what you need, my friend."
Hardane sent a dubious glance at the pleasure palace. It was a large square building made of dark stone. There were no windows, only narrow slits that admitted a minimum of light during the day. A narrow iron door was the only entrance.
He let out a quick breath. He had never been inside such a place, though he had heard tales of what went on inside. Anything a man desired could be his for the right price. Women of all sizes and shapes, all colors and ages. The finest ale, the softest beds, the most willing courtesans in all of Argone.
"It's what you need," Jared said again. "I know, I know, you promised your mother to live like a monk until you wed, but you're not a monk, my friend. You're a man, with a man's needs, a man's desires, and it's time you had a woman."
Hardane stood there for a long moment, torn between the need to relieve his sexual frustration and his determination to keep the promise he'd made to his mother. But his mother was not a man. She couldn't know how painful it was for him, wanting a woman, needing a woman. Until Kylene entered his life, he'd been able to keep his sexual tension under control by constantly keeping busy, by training for battle, by working such long hours during the day that he went to bed utterly exhausted.
But now, no matter how hard he worked, how tired he was when he sought his bedchamber, there was no respite from the hunger that plagued him. Surely it wouldn't hurt to give his body the release it needed just this once.
"Well?" Jared looked up at Hardane, his fists resting on his hips. "Are you ready to be a man?"
"Yes."
A broad smile played over Jared's lips as he opened the iron door and ushered Hardane inside. He felt no guilt at urging Hardane to break the promise made to Sharilyn. He understood Sharilyn's reasoning, but he also felt a strong loyalty to Hardane and it grieved him to see his friend hurting when there was no need for it. Sometimes a man needed a woman, any woman.
Hardane noticed the smell first. The heavy mixture of perfume and powder and the faintly pungent scent of incense. A tall, yellow-haired woman came forward to meet them, her lithe body enveloped in a gossamer gown of purple silk.
"Jared," she purred, extending a slender hand. "How good to see you again." She saw Hardane then, recognition and surprise flickering in her eyes.
Before she could speak Hardane's name and thus draw attention to the future ruler of Argone, Jared said, "Susna, this is my friend, Brayce. He's visiting from Chadray."
"I see," Susna murmured, a knowing smile playing over her lips as she realized she would be well paid to keep Lord Hardane's visit a secret. "Welcome, Brayce. I hope you'll come back often."
Hardane nodded, his senses reeling.
"What type of woman do you prefer?" Susna asked.
"He wants a redhead," Jared replied. "About this tall, with brown eyes and pale skin. Young. Not too experienced."
"I see." Susna smiled at Hardane. "You'll find what you're looking for upstairs in room seven." She glanced at Jared. "Mina is waiting for you."
Jared slapped Hardane on the back. "Shall we?"
Heart pounding, Hardane followed Jared up the long staircase, then down a dark hall.
"This is it," Jared said, stopping in front of a blue door. "Room seven. I'll meet you downstairs in . . . an hour?"
Hardane nodded, then watched as Jared continued down the hall, stopping in front of a yellow door.
Glancing over his shoulder, Jared grinned at Hardane, then opened the door and stepped into the room.
Hardane took a deep breath. What was he doing here? He was about to turn away when the door opened and he found himself staring at one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her skin was like porcelain, her eyes a deep brown, her body ripe and firm. A curtain of red hair fell over her breasts and down her back, almost to the floor.
"Come in," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "I've been waiting for you."
When he hesitated, she took him by the hand and led him into the room, softly closing the door behind her.
His gaze darted around the room. It was blue-floor and walls and ceiling. There was a large mirror on one wall, a small chair and a table in the far corner. And a bed, the biggest bed he had ever seen, covered with a blue counterpane.
"Have you been here before?" the woman asked in the same sultry voice.
"No."
She closed the distance between them, her hips swaying provocatively. "Tell me what you want, and it's yours." Her arms slid around his neck, her breasts pressing against his chest as her mouth covered his.
With a cry of desperation, Hardane put his arms around her and kissed her back. His nostrils filled with the scent of perfumed hair and the musky scent of a willing woman. Her skin was warm under his hands, her lips pliant, her body humming with readiness and desire.
And he felt nothing but disgust.
For the woman.
For himself.
With a low growl, he twisted out of her arms and backed away, his mind filling with Kylene's image. He didn't want to bed an experienced courtesan; he wanted to share Kylene's sweet innocence, to savor her virginity as he lost his own.
The woman looked up at him, confused. "What is it?"
He shook his head. "I . . . I can't."
"Can't?" Her gaze moved over him, coolly assessing his masculinity. "Is there something wrong with you?" she asked candidly.
The back of his neck felt suddenly hot and he flushed under her probing gaze.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of," she said. "Lots of men have . . . trouble. That's why they come here."
"There's nothing wrong with me," he said curtly.
"Perhaps the fault lies with me. Perhaps I don't please you?"
"You're very beautiful, but . . ."
She smiled sagely. "But I'm not her?"
"No, you're not."
"She's a lucky woman," the courtesan murmured. "Perhaps, if things don't work out between the two of you, you'll come see me again."
"Perhaps," Hardane replied, but he knew it was a lie, and so did she.
Without another word, he left the woman's room. In the hall, he drew a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. Other men might find relief here, but he felt degraded, unclean.
Downstairs, he ordered a flagon of ale, then sat in a dark corner to wait for Jared, wondering how his friend could find pleasure in the arms of a woman who sold herself to any man who could pay the price.
He was half asleep when Jared entered the room, a grin stretching across his face.
"Well, aren't you the quick one," Jared remarked, slapping Hardane on the back. "Been waiting long?"
"No. Shall we go?"
"In a minute. How was she? Did she give you your money's worth?"
"I learned what I needed to know," Hardane replied ruefully, and wondered if he'd perform any better with Selene than he had with the woman in the blue room.
And if he didn't, what then? What of the prophesy that foretold the birth of twin sons? How could he hope to produce an heir when his body refused to respond? Perhaps there was some flaw in his masculinity, perhaps he could only be aroused by a woman he couldn't have . . . Kylene.
He cursed softly as he felt his manhood stir to life. He had only to think her name, he mused, and desire ran through him, as hot and swift as lava spewing from a volcano.
Kylene.
He hurried to his horse, Jared and the woman in the blue room forgotten in his haste to return home, to see her face, hear her voice.
He railed at the cruel hand of fate that had played him such a cruel trick, and then he forgot everything but the need to be with her, the woman who held his heart.
Kylene. The one woman who could never be his.