Moonlit Seduction (A Hunter's Moon Curse Book 1)

by Megan J. Parker

  Oh, that look is trouble, Broden thought. The best kind of trouble!

  She gave him a big grin after he simply stared for a long moment, realizing that she’d taken his silence as an agreement. Sighing, he shook his head and then shrugged.

  “Fine,” he said. “Obviously I canna force ye to leave even if I wished it.”

  “That was easy,” she grinned. “Or maybe ye didn’t want me to go in the first place. So…” she perked up then, seeming eager to change the subject, “tell me about yourself.”

  “Me?” he blinked at the question. “There’s no’ much to tell, honestly. How ‘bout ye tell me about ye? Ye know, to set the pace an’ all.”

  She paused and turned to look forward, in the direction of her village, then, frowning, quickly looked away and back at him. Broden didn’t push her as his own gaze shifted, unnerved by the impact her eyes had on him, and he found himself staring down at his scuffed boots. Like most of his clothes, the boots were old and, quite likely, on their last few months. He had always taken the bare minimum to let his brothers have the better things, but now when he looked at how Abby was dressed he felt ashamed to be sitting so near to her. As though he might sully her just by standing too close.

  “My father”—she finally began—“helps run the village, and my mother… well, she spends most her days taking advantage of being my father’s wife.” Abby shook her head, the look of disgust growing. “That’s why I choose to work. I doona want to get by just because my father is rich.”

  “That… is really admirable,” he smiled, looking out at the setting sun and shook his head. “I’ve lived my life so far just… in a daze, I suppose. I’ve always devoted my attention to my family and somewhere along the way I got lost.” He blushed at how easy it was to open up to the girl. He frowned, finding that the scariest part of the confession was that he didn’t even know that about himself until now.

  Was he really this lost?

  “Hmm,” Abby leaned forward and he watched, mesmerized. The way her long blonde curls moves around her head like a halo was enchanting and her blue eyes sparkled with intelligence. He looked down, breaking his stare and frowned, feeling even more unsure of everything—just how this girl, this Abby, was unlocking all of these parts of him that had either long been hidden away or, worse, that he hadn’t even known about.

  “What are ye thinking about?” Abby looked over at him, raising a blonde eyebrow.

  “Confusing things,” he confessed, and then (again) immediately wondered why.

  Abby nodded. “Ye too?”

  Her cheeks reddened at her own confession, and Broden felt his body heat up at the sight. He watched as her hands move to smooth the skirt she wore and he realized that the way she had dressed yesterday and today were completely different.

  Had she done that for him?

  “It’s…” she cleared her throat and made a show of looking around, though Broden felt like she wasn’t really taking in any of the other sights, “It’s really nice out here.” She smiled and let her eyes fall back on him. “I’ve never left the village, honestly. But I’d like to… I mean, nowhere terribly crowded, I doona think I could handle that. But maybe exploring other small areas of Scotland.”

  “Ye could,” he smiled. “Ye could leave here and go wherever ye desire.”

  “Aye?” she smirked, raising an eyebrow. “And would ye come with me?”

  Broden’s breath halted at the question and he looked at her for a long while. “W-would ye want me to come with ye?”

  She let out a breath “I…” and left it at that long enough for Broden to realize that she’d actually said “Aye.”

  Panic threatened to throw the already breathless Broden into a coughing fit, and, like she with her village, he glanced up the mountain towards his own home.

  “Ye…” he worked to clear his own throat, but shuddered when it came out as a nervous growl. “Ye must be very brave to come out here on yer own, what with yer village talking of all the dangers.”

  “Oh! No’ ye too!” she pouted, looking over at him. “I am so sick of everyone thinking how weak I am!”

  “Lass, I didn't mean ye were weak at all,” he moved his hand to her cheek and she leaned into it. “There are monsters, real monsters out there… and I doona want ye hurt.”

  “Are ye speaking of the beasts of the forest?” she looked over.

  He glanced away for a moment and looked at her. “And if I am?”

  * * *

  Abigail couldn't look away from Broden.

  His intensity.

  His body.

  His gaze.

  That damnable gaze…

  Those eyes, which, like the night before, still seemed to glow in the moonlight, took her in with such an animal intensity that it seemed a wonder there weren’t fangs in his mouth and claws at his hands. That thought, however, did little to unnerve her; as much as she could imagine Broden, this mysterious highlander, being every bit the beast the legends had spoken of, she somehow knew—knew, not felt!—that he would never harm her. He could never harm her. And, moreover, he would never let her come to harm.

  And woe be unto any who tried…

  She blinked at that, unsure of just where the thought had come from or how she was so certain of things she had no right to be certain of. And, considering how difficult all rational thought became around him—yes, it was just as crippling as the night before; being prepared had done nothing to help that—it was a wonder she could be certain about anything. Even her own name felt like a branch on the great tree of her mind that she couldn’t quite reach. But Broden… he seemed not only able, but outright eager to climb that tree and make it his.

  Or maybe she was just crazy.

  “Do ye believe the beasts are dangerous?” Broden asked, and the haze seemed to clear a bit.

  It seemed strange to Abigail that he used the word “believe” over “think.” Something about it seemed purposeful. What Abigail thought had to rely on what she’d heard and what instinct dictated, and, without the benefit of time or reason to shape a response, she might have admitted that, through thought alone, she worried that the beasts of the mountains might be dangerous. She’d had plenty of time to think about the stories, to worry and ponder on the way they’d changed over the years, and, being there now, she could certainly feel an overwhelming sense of strength and power that, at its surface, felt dangerous. But thought and belief weren’t the same thing. It was the difference between logic and faith, after all.

  Broden didn’t want Abigail’s logic—he wasn’t worried about what she thought—but, rather, he wanted to know what she knew in her heart.

  And her heart, Abigail realized, knew more than she was prepared to handle.

  “No… I doona,” she shook her head and added. “I think it is a misunderstanding. My village always tries to find something to talk about. They thrive off of drama and rumors. I know what they say—and it’s all quite convincing, sure—but I just doona feel like… like it canna be true; I just feel certain that the beasts—if they’re real, I mean—aren’t the vicious monsters everyone speaks of.”

  He looked at her for a short while in silence, though she couldn’t gauge from his expression what he was thinking at that moment. Finally he nodded, seeming suddenly more relaxed, and a smile crept over his features. Then, just as quickly, he shivered and looked away, neither towards the village nor the peak of the mountain, where his eyes, she’d realized, had a tendency to drift. This time, however, he stared off in the opposite direction, seeming to pierce the mountain itself with his gaze. Abigail was about to ask him what was wrong before another shiver rolled up his back and his muscles tensed.

  “We’re going to have to delay our plans,” he said flatly.

  Abigail frowned at that. “Wh-what?” she stammered, “Why?”

  “There’s a storm comi—”

  As if to punctuate his words, a flash of light pierced the skyline. Glancing off in the distance that had drawn Broden’s
attention moments before, Abigail could see black, angry storm clouds on the dimming horizon, turning the otherwise beautiful sunset into something dark and foreboding.

  “Canno’ we just…” Abigail began, but flinched when a clap of thunder sounded in the distance.

  Not far off…

  Broden was already shaking his head and taking her hand. “I can appreciate yer tenacity, Abby,” he said as he began to lead her back towards the village, “but everything on this mountain—beast or otherwise—knows to seek shelter in a storm. We wouldn’t find a thing if we tried, and we’d likely get ourselves washed off the mountain in a flood if we tried.”

  “But…” Abigail blushed and looked up at him, “yer no’ saying ‘no,’ right? This is just a delay—just like ye said—and then… and then we can try again?” she gulped nervously and added, “I can see ye again, right?”

  Broden visibly paused at that, and a warm glow took to his jaw as he glanced back at her.

  A jagged tear of light cut across the sky. Abigail jumped. Broden didn’t stir; his gaze didn’t stir.

  Abigail found herself counting, though she wasn’t sure if it was for the storm or the time it took for Broden to respond.

  The highlander nodded, a reassuring smile seeming to brighten the otherwise darkening moment. “Ye will see me again,” he said. “I promise.”

  A roar of thunder echoed over the mountain like a damned thing calling out for them, but Abigail could only smile at that moment.

  Broden had beaten the storm.

  Another long moment lasted staring at one another, though there was nothing awkward or tense about it this time. Then, seeming to remember the urgency as several fresh streaks of lightning flashed, he turned with her and, hurrying his pace, started down the mountain with her. With nothing left to say, Abby followed after in silence. Disappointment was more distant than she would have thought, though, as his words—“Ye will see me again”—echoed in her ears. His help with tracking the beasts was suddenly a distant concern that was outweighed by the elation of what those words meant. Despite the promise, though, and despite no longer worrying about her mission to see the beasts, she was saddened all the same. This confused her at first, and she cycled back through the conversation again and again until she realized it wasn’t due to anything that had been said. She just didn’t like the idea of leaving him again. She’d been numbed by this presence the first time to realize that she missed being near him, and the thoughts and dreams she’d had that night were evidence enough that she had missed him then, too. But now, without that numbness from the awe of that first encounter, she was painfully aware of the parting that was about to take place. Something about Broden was calling to her—pulling her towards him—and it hated being forced to part. And, promises or not, it hurt.

  “Ye look sad,” she heard him say, and a moment later his palm came to rest on her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

  “I…I guess I just doona want to go home,” she confessed. “Truth be told, it doesn’t even feel like home anymore.”

  Though her words barely made sense to her, she was surprised to see Broden nod in understanding. “Aye, but it’s only ‘til the storm lets up, Abby,” he gave her that smile again. “Then we can do this again.”

  Hearing him say the words—seeing the way he lit up the same way she was sure she lit up—renewed her hope that he was feeling for her what she felt for him. Swallowing the pain and resisting the pull, she forced herself to release the highlander’s hand and, spurred by a sudden gust of cold wind that dragged with it a frigid rain, hurried back into the village.

  Chapter Five

  “Ye’re distracted,” Lachlan chuckled at Broden. “Ye’re never distracted.”

  “Aye, what ails ye, brother?” Grant grinned knowingly. “Anything to do with that lass?”

  Broden growled and shot a glare at Grant, never wavering with the bow and arrow that he had leveled in the direction of a rather irritated, rain-drenched deer. Then again, everything was looking irritated and rain-drenched. The storm, refusing to let up, raged on and, though it was met with all manner of complaints, Broden had been forced to brave the elements with them for supplies. And, much as he hated relying on the others, the storm wasn’t about to give him the time he’d need to do it all himself.

  Still baring his teeth at Grant, Broden loosed the arrow. He took no satisfaction in the soft impact of the arrow, the final breath of their prey, or the scent of blood that carried with it a promise of fresh meat. Threatening as the entire gesture was, however, Grant’s grin didn’t waver in the slightest.

  With his brothers’ attention on him, he was unsure if they’d get any hunting done that day. While his attentions had been distracted due to a certain blonde lass, he wasn't going to let it distract him from the job at hand any further. His brothers, Lachlan, Grant, and Kade had joined on the hunting trip while Ronson—who had always had a preference for books and never been one for hunting or fighting—stayed back with Callum and Lyle. Broden frowned at the thought of Callum. This he didn’t mind, however; knowing that Callum wouldn’t be alone was enough for him to be willing to sacrifice the two extra sets of hands.

  “A lass, eh?” Kade chuckled. “I thought ye smelled… sweeter.”

  The others laughed.

  Broden snarled and rushed forward, pinning Grant to the ground. “Enough! Ye canna keep anything to yerself, can ye? Canno’ keep yer dick in yer plaid, canna keep yerself focued,” he gave his brother a violent shake, “an’ ye canna keep yer mouth shut! I’ve had enough of yer distractions!”

  He could feel Kade and Lachlan’s gazes on his back but he didn't care. He needed to protect them, and distractions could mean a failed outing…

  Or worse.

  Callum’s abduction and the horrors he’d faced afterwards were proof enough of what a simple distraction during an outing could mean.

  Once again, Grant seemed unaffected by Broden’s anger, and his grin widened. “I doona think it’s me that’s got ye distracted, brother.”

  Broden’s eyes widened at that. His grip weakened. Numbly, he stood and turned away.

  The icy rain did little against the growing heat of his embarrassment.

  “Perhaps ye should go get some rest,” Lachlan offered, his calm voice punctuated by a gentle grip on his shoulder.

  “But…” he glanced back, first at Lachlan and then at the downed deer, “… there’s too much to be done.”

  “And ye think us too daft to handle it ourselves?” he scoffed. “Just because ye usually choose to handle these things on yer own does no’ mean we canna.”

  Broden blushed at that, realizing that he’d wasted much of his life worrying and coddling the lot of them for no real reason. Well, no reason, at least, other than to distract himself.

  Every one of his brothers, he realized, was more than capable in their own right, but he’d chosen to destroy himself—break his body, torment his mind, and starve himself at every turn—all for the forced notion that only he could handle the tasks. And now that he’d found something else to busy his mind with—something that this damned storm is keeping me from, he thought bitterly—he was forced to admit that he’d been denying himself from his own identity for too long.

  Sighing, he nodded to Lachlan and muttered, “Ye’re right.”

  “Aye, I usually am,” his brother chuckled.

  “Doona get cocky,” Kade scoffed.

  As Broden looked his way, Grant rolled his eyes and pulled himself to his feet. “Are ye finished moping then? Because we doona need ye to be a nanny; we need ye to be our brother. An’ until ye tup the lass an’ get it over with I worry we’ll never get ye back.”

  “Doona speak of her that way,” Broden growled.

  Lachlan raised a hand to silence Grant before he could say anything else and narrowed his knowing gaze at Broden. “This is more than a wee fancy, isn’t it?” he asked.

  Broden looked down, uncertain how to answer that.

  “Oh shite�
��” Grant’s eyes widened. “Ye doona think that she could be—”

  “Those are just stories!” Broden interrupted him, not wanting to put any more thought into that impossible dream—a dream that he was having a harder and harder time believing as such—and turned away.

  “Broden…” Lachlan called after him. “Ye know how Grant can be, but, stories or no’, this girl has clearly turned into something more for ye, aye? An’ right now that something is a distraction… an’ we all know what ye think about distractions.”

  Broden spun to face him. “I can still—”

  “Of course ye can,” Lachlan’s voice remained steady. “Ye always can; ye always could. Shite, it’s all ye’ve ever done! Look at yerself: ye work harder, hunt more, an’ constantly go out of yer way to keep us supplied an’ what’ve ye got to show for it? A body that’s skin-n-bones compared to the rest o’ us an’ a scowl that Callum has more of a right to wear. Why? What are ye afraid of facing if ye doona have all this to busy yerself with?” He took a step closer and gave Broden a hard, cold look, “Or are ye more worried about Father’s stories than ye let on?”

  Broden looked away, not having an answer.

  “Oh shite!” Grant repeated.

  Lachlan rolled his eyes and gripped Broden by the shoulders. “Look, Grant’s a horse’s arse, I know, but—”

  “I’m right here,” Grant glowered.

  “Aye, I know, but if ye insist to act like a child, ye will be treated as such,” Lachlan glared back. Then, facing Broden again, he said, “but… in his own right, he has a point.”