Initially, the new speaker had sparked a wave of concern—either that somebody from the village had followed her or that one of the dangers of the mountain that Broden had mentioned had discovered them—but the new speaker’s mention of “brother” gave her enough of a reason to relax. All the same, she kept herself close behind Broden as they both looked back towards the source.
The first thing that she noticed were his eyes, or, rather, one of them: like Broden’s, yet, at the same time, not; sharing the same intensity and deep green shade, but seeming eager and filled with humor rather than the intense, contemplative gaze that she’d fallen in love with. The other eye, though wielding the same lecherous mischief as the first, was blue. Tarah, she was certain, would know all about the ‘how’ and ‘why’ behind such a thing. Departing from the eyes, she studied the rest of the new highlander—one of Broden’s brothers, as it turned out—and saw a mane of wild hair (not the disciplined, short cut that Broden wore) that seemed contained more out of luck than intent. As Broden had mentioned, this highlander was larger and more traditionally handsome, but the sight of him didn’t inspire the swell of emotions and need that Broden—her Broden—did every time she saw him. Looking upon him, Abigail realized she felt no more compelled than she might if she was looking upon her own brother and not one of his.
“Grant,” Broden sighed and rolled his eyes, sounding irritated with just the name, “it’s good to see ye.”
“Aye, ye sound thrilled, ecstatic even!” the brother, Grant, offered with a laugh along with a series of loud pats to Broden’s nearest shoulder.
Though they looked painful, Broden didn’t even respond to the impacts. Instead he just said, “Shouldn’t ye be with the others?”
Grant scoffed and set himself beside Broden with enough force to knock him against Abigail, earning an irritated growl in the process. This either wasn’t heard or went ignored as he said, “Is that how ye greet yer favorite brother after being caught in the arms of such a fine lass?” he grinned over at Abby, offering a nod that was somehow both polite and not.
She blushed, more out of discomfort than anything else, and looked away.
Broden growled again, this time seeming less irritated and more bestial. Somehow the sound put Abigail’s unease to rest.
“Doona look at her that way, an’ heavens help ye if I see her look unsettled by yer leering again!” Broden warned, his fists clenching at his sides.
Noticing the threatening gestures, Grant’s face lit up and he grinned. The lecherous intent vanished from his expression in that instant, replaced solely by the good humor, and he threw his broad arms around Broden in an excited embrace.
Abigail had to work to avoid toppling over in shock at the sudden change in tone.
“I KNEW IT! Ye care for her! Truly care fer her!” he shouted, the outburst confusing Abigail as he regarded her then with a totally new (yet no less confusing) expression. “Aye, we had our suspicions, we did—something was different about ye these past few days—and I now see what it was!” He grinned at Abigail again, but this time she didn’t feel discomforted by his gaze. She felt… welcomed. “Or should I say who it was!” he went on, still beaming as he turned his attentions back to Broden. “We wanted to believe it, aye, but to see it.” He offered an awkward and brief dance of excitement before hugging Broden again. “Say it, Broden! Please! Fer me, jus’ let me hear the words! She is the one, isn’t she?”
Broden, who’d remained tense for the entire rambling display, blushed—Broden actually blushed!—and dipped his head, seeming suddenly shy under the weight of the awkward question. Then, finally, he gave a single nod.
Grant’s grin grew into a smile that looked painful just to watch, and he jumped up, waving his arms at the sky and letting loose a stream of celebratory hollers that had even Abigail giggling in rapture. Though she still wasn’t sure why they were celebrating. Then, panting and exhausted from his own cheering, Grant settled enough to take Abigail’s hands within his own—keeping enough distance to avoid another flare of anger from Broden—and bowed his head.
“It’s nice to meet ye, an’ believe me when I say it’s a great honor and joy that this day has come. I’m Grant, Broden’s strongest and most dashing brothers.”
She smirked at the cockiness and gave an understanding nod. “It’s nice to meet ye, too. I’m Abigail, but most call me ‘Abby.’”
“Aye, aye,” Broden sighed, looking at Grant with impatience. “Is there a reason yer out this way? Did ye mean to interrupt us, or did something happen?”
“Oh, aye, something happened!” Grant nodded. “Something grand!”
Broden sighed and hung his head, waiting for Grant to go on.
“They’re back!” was all Grant said, the painful smile growing as he did.
This, however, was enough as it turned out. A flood of relief washed over Broden’s face as a smile replaced his dour expression. She tilted her head, wondering whose return could earn such a response.
“Should… should I go?” she asked, biting her lip.
“No’ at all, I’m sure Broden will want to introduce ye,” Grant wrapped one arm around each of them and began to guide them back up the mountain. “All the more reason to celebrate! Our parents return on the same day that Broden finds…”
“Your parents?” Abigail blushed. “I… I doona want to intrude on a family event.”
“Och, it’s no intrusion, Miss Abby. Ma an’ Pa would love to meet ye!” Grant grinned at Broden. “Isn’t that right?”
* * *
Broden’s parents were some of the kindest people Abigail had ever met!
She smiled as she was served another bowl of mutton stew from Nelle, Broden’s mother, and looked around the cave once more. She had been completely taken aback when she’d been led to the mouth of the cave, certain that the interior would be dark and cold and damp, only to find that it was, in fact, cozier than her own home. Beyond the bear hide that served to hold out the elements was a vast, warm interior that offered what looked to be even more space at the end of a series of tunnels that extended further out near the back. A series of lamps and reflective metal surfaces kept the interior well-lit and warm, and an abundance of custom built furnishings and various pieces of art had her quickly forgetting she was even in a cave. Almost instantly—following a brief introduction by Grant spotlighting her as Broden’s “one”—Abigail had been welcomed with the same sort of excitement that Grant had shown. A plush purple cushion was offered—“One of Ma’s favorites,” she’d been told upon accepting it—and she’d been offered a place around the table beside Broden. Then, as though she’d always been a part of the family, food and drink and conversation began to go around.
Though it felt strange to admit to herself, Abigail couldn’t help but feel that she was a part of the family.
As the attention and the conversation shifted for a moment away from her and Broden—true to Grant’s prediction, not only were their parents excited to meet her, everyone was—she had a chance to study the tunnels at the other end of the first room that they occupied. There, she noticed a set of runic symbols that seemed to mark each one, the art and décor beyond those shifting slightly.
“What do those mean?” she asked Nelle, who’d been eager to sit beside her, nodding towards the tunnel that wore the same fork-like rune as Broden’s tattoo, feeling strangely drawn in its direction.
“Bowen chose a rune for all of our sons,” she explained, smiling. “Those tunnels lead to their rooms; the rune markers indicating whose room lays beyond.” Abigail found herself blushing even before Nelle giggled and whispered, “Ye picked Broden’s room first, I see,”
Abigail stammered for a moment before managing to say, “I canna explain why, but that symbol…it called to me, I suppose.”
Broden’s father, Bowen, who’d shown the same eagerness to sit beside Broden as his wife to sit beside Abigail, overheard this and grinned, nodding. “Aye, jus’ as we’d expect,” he beamed, patting Brod
en’s back.
This was met with a round of similar cheers from all around the table.
Broden once again blushed and looked down, seeming embarrassed… or worried.
Though she wasn’t sure why Broden didn’t seem to match the excitement that everyone else seemed to feel—even if she, herself, wasn’t sure exactly why they were so excited—she couldn’t bring herself to question his emotions. Glancing down again, she watched as the pad of the thumb of his left hand caressed the top of her hand. Soon after sitting down around the table, his hand had found hers and it hadn’t moved since. This, she realized, was all the added comfort she needed to carry her through the initial awkwardness of the introductions, but, even with them out of the way, she was relieved that the contact hadn’t been severed. All of Broden’s brothers had welcomed her with a wide smile and some degree of excitement, all but Callum—the only brother who didn’t have lush, dark hair but, rather, ghostly white hair with the occasional tease of blackness streaked through it that he seemed eager to hide his cold, dark eyes behind—who, though offering a polite nod and a meek “nice to meet ye,” seemed eager to put as much distance between him and her as possible—even going so far as to plant himself aggressively between two of his brothers at the furthest end of the table. Noticing her worried face as she watched Callum dip his head to avoid eye contact, Broden leaned in to whisper that she’d done nothing wrong and that Callum had a bad history. Deciding not to push the subject, she forced herself to ignore the occasional icy glare and went on with the meal.
It wasn’t until Nelle, further into the meal, whispered to her that Callum had been badly hurt and was nervous around other women that Abigail began to see his behavior in a different light. With this in mind, she took notice of the few times that Broden’s gaze shifted sympathetically in his direction; then, just like that, she realized that she, too, felt a great deal of pity for whatever had happened to him, as well. After that, her nerves settled once more and able to immerse herself in the excitement around her, Abigail let the evening pass in good spirits.
Then, as the rowdiness began to die down and the meal began to wrap up, Abigail realized that a great deal of time had passed and blushed with the realization of what that meant.
Seeming to sense her thoughts, Nelle placed her hand gently on her shoulder and said, “It’s getting late. Should I set a bed up for ye?”
Something in Nelle’s offer both elated and worried Abigail. On the one hand, she was eager to stay—had been practically feeling the ghosts of hers and Broden’s shared sickness just at the thought of having to leave—but, on the other…
Then, coming to her rescue, Broden gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and said, “She’ll be staying with me.”
Though she worried how such a brass and direct statement might be received by his parents—Nelle especially, who’d been so kind to her up to that point—she was surprised when both of them grinned. It wasn’t until Nelle whispered “I’m glad to see ye’ve taken to him” that she realized she’d been holding her breath prior to Broden’s statement and had only managed to relax after “claiming” her.
Satisfied, Broden nodded and stepped forward, taking Abby’s hand and pulling her up into his arms. Then, offering a “Goodnight, Da. Ma,” and pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek, he started towards his room with her.
She smiled at the display. Broden truly cared for his parents—for his entire family!—and seeing him like that, watching him with them, somehow managed to make her love him all the more. Like some sort of savage-looking animal that was really just hardened to the world and eager to do right for its kin, she felt like she was seeing a part of him that no other would have been offered.
And speaking of seeing parts that no other would have been offered…
The pelt that served as the door to Broden’s room whispered as he pulled it aside and crossed over, another whisper sounding as it slid shut behind them, and he carefully set her down on the softest, most comfortable mound of warmth she’d ever encountered. Glancing down at the surface, she realized it consisted of various furs and pelts draped across a wooden frame that, she guessed, Broden had built.
“Are ye okay?” he asked as he settled in beside her. “I’m sorry if they… I hope they didn’t make ye uncomfortable.”
“Is that what had ye so worried?” she asked, shaking her head and caressing his cheek. “No, Broden, they were… they’re all incredible; ye’re incredible!”
He blushed at that. “I could just see how all that—Grant and Callum, especially—can be…” he shrugged, “difficult to handle for the first time. Especially all at once.”
Abigail smirked and offered a single tug of a shoulder for a shrug. “Grant’s got his charm, though he’s not as charming as I’m sure he’d like to think.” She noticed Broden’s tense shoulders relax a great deal at that. “And Callum…” she bit her lip and glanced up at him, “Just what happened to him? He seems so…” Broden was already shaking his head, leading her to trail off.
“It’s not me place to tell,” he finally said, then added, “and ye’d likely not want to know. Not really.”
Seeing the pain in his eyes at the subject, Abigail nodded her understanding before changing the subject:
“Yer parents seem really nice!”
He smiled at that and nodded. “Aye. They have their moments. An’ they certainly took a liking to ye. Ma, especially. She always said she wanted a daughter to spoil and gossip with.”
Abby smiled. “Well, I like yer mother, too. She… she’s a lot kinder than my mother.”
He frowned at that and shook his head, “I’m so—”
“Stop there,” she held out a hand and moved closer to him. “I doona want to hear ye apologize for my parents. I’m happy now—yer making me happy now—an’ I doona want ye to say or do anything other than telling me how much ye want me an’ showing me jus’ that!”
Grinning, Broden did just that.
* * *
So many dreams in not as many nights had put Abigail in the exact moment she was finding herself in. Lying beneath Broden, his strength and intensity feeling like the most perfect shelter over her; his lips working hers as his hands explored the rest of her. Her body pitched and writhed with every little touch. His fingertips, his palms, even his forearms—which glided across her torso when his hands moved to another part of her but refused to pull away—seemed to set her flesh ablaze with want as they prowled. Her heaving chest strained against the confines of her top, and in an act of sudden desperation she clutched her neckline and tore it away, letting her breasts spill out so that she could breathe under the sweltering intensity. Broden paused at this, lingering on the savagery of the act and the display it offered, and Abigail realized with a start that she felt neither shame nor embarrassment.
She wanted him to look.
Wanted him to…
“T-touch them!” she demanded, barely recognizing her own voice.
The addictive fires of his hands were upon her once again, working both of her breasts in their wide, calloused grips as he kissed her again. Though the strength and power in those hands had never been more evident, he worked her chest knowingly; perfectly.
A wave of jealousy crashed over her as a thought occurred to her, and Abigail panted “H-have ye done this before” against his lips.
He shook his head, continuing his onslaught.
“H-how do ye know how to—AH!” she moaned, interrupting herself.
“Yer body,” he burred, never stopping. “It’s telling me what ye need.”
Abigail shivered at the answer and worked to spread her legs beneath him. His body tensed at this and he glanced at her parted thighs before looking back into her eyes.
“Are ye… are ye sure, Abby?” he asked.
She smiled and nodded up at him. “Y-yes. Doona stop. I wan—” she lifted herself up to meet him and corrected herself, “I need this!”
He grinned and nodded, moving down her body as he began
to run his lips down the column of her throat. She shivered at the feeling, lifting her neck at his kiss as his hands moved up her waist, returning to her chest and making her gasp and lift herself further to meet his efforts.
“Is this yer first time?” he asked, moving back to take in the sight of her.
Abigail shivered under the weight of his gaze and nodded, letting him look; urging him to look. She remembered him shaking his head to the same question a moment ago, and she felt the heat in her lower belly stoke at the thought that they were sharing this first.
“Mmm!” she reached a hand towards him, seeing his kilt begin to shift under the movement of what lay beneath it. “Let me see, Broden.”
Reddening at her request, he slowly began to unbuckle the garment, stretching the time as he worked it free and finally let it fall free.
Abigail gasped. “Is that… Can that be real?” she gaped at it.
“My ki—um, it’s a family trait,” he chuckled nervously and shrugged.
“F-family?” she blushed, trying to look away but finding it impossible. “All of ye are like this?” she asked, slowly reaching out to weigh it in her hands.
“Doona be getting any ideas!” he growled down at her, his eyes growing possessive of her as her palms wrapped around his length.
She smiled and began to lightly stroke him. “Doona worry,” she purred, finally looking up at him as she continued, “I only have eyes for ye.”
He smiled at that and, groaning at one of Abigail’s more prolonged strokes, pulled away and moved down, beginning to work on slipping what remained of the purple dress off of her. Before long, she lay beneath him every bit as exposed as she wanted to be.
“Ye… ye are so beautiful,” he smiled down at her.
“Yer one to talk, highlander,” she smiled and said around eager pants, making a note of parting herself so he could see the effect he was having on her.
Moonlit Seduction (A Hunter's Moon Curse Book 1) Page 9
