The part of Broden that was still, well, Broden—the Broden he’d come to know himself to be; not the creature that he’d “met” upon his encounter with Abby—knew that he shouldn’t have come. That part knew that he should have let it go and gone back to the life he knew. And were it not for the fact that that life was a miserable and lonely one, he might have entertained the idea. Unfortunately, between the feelings that Abby had stirred up in just a few short minutes, his own burning curiosities, and Grant’s incessant urging on what should have been a hunt, that part of Broden and all the thoughts therefrom were overruled.
In his defense, though, this was the only sort of subject that Broden would ever take Grant’s advice.
Still, he was nervous. Absently, he began to run his thumb over the scar near his lip and shook his head, unsure of what to expect. Abby, everything about her, hadn’t left his mind since their encounter. She hadn’t seemed afraid of him or deterred by the parts of him that he’d been certain would chase away any respectable lass. In fact, as if to defy everything he thought he knew, the girl actually seemed to have the opposite reactions than what he’d have predicted.
Where he’d expect a flinch, he’d seen awe.
Where he’d expect a scowl, he’d seen intrigue.
And where he’d expect silence and loneliness, he’d seen her—Abby.
His Abby!
Alright, he scolded himself again for the exact same blunder, enough of those thoughts, Broden! No more!
Though he still felt a fool for believing it, when she’d looked at him, she’d actually seemed to be looking at him with the same eyes he’d been looking at her. She’d actually seemed attracted to him. And the moment he’d dared to let that sliver of hope slip to Grant the previous night, his brother had all but made the decision for him.
“Ye canna let this moment pass ye by!” he’d said. “The lass didn’t run screaming, aye? No vulgar calls or cries of terror? Och! What more do ye need, ya daft bastard? At the very least ye owe it to her to keep yer promise, but if ye ask me—an’ ye did, mind ye!—ye owe it to yerself just as much. Even if just to try. Yer manhood can only hold on fer so long; the bugger’s likely to sprout legs and run fer greener pastures if ye doona at least try!”
The thought sent a strange sensation through Broden. He wanted her to feel what he was for Abby, he needed to feel anything at all. So long he had been in a daze, throwing all his emotions and attention into protecting and caring for his brothers and now, finally, he had a chance to feel something more.
Perhaps this could be the start of the end of their family’s curse…
Shaking his head, Broden worked to clear the thoughts. Though it was certainly something he’d been pondering, there were too many variables that existed between that moment and the hypothetical end that they all craved; too many things that could go wrong. And, as far as Broden was concerned, if it could go wrong, it would go wrong.
No point in getting his hopes up just yet.
Resigning to this thought, he started to pace once more around the clearing near the cliff’s edge. While the pacing helped, he could still feel the mixture of anxiousness and excitement thrumming through him.
The sound of a twig snapping behind redirected his thoughts and he swung around, snarling and prepared for an ambush, only to meet the surprised gaze of Abby.
“S-sorry,” he said. “Doona sneak up on me.”
“Perhaps ye should be paying more attention,” she grinned teasingly, and Broden frowned, unsure what to make of it. “I had called to ye four times.”
“Four times? Och,” he ran a hand across his face. “I was… distracted.”
“It’s okay,” she smiled warmly—reawakening all the thoughts he’d been trying to stifle—and Broden instantly began to calm down. “My friend, Tarah, is the same way. She’s always lost in her—”
“Abby, I think ye should go home,” he shook his head. “It is dangerous out here.”
Seeming startled by the interruption, Abby took a moment to process his words before glaring at him. “No!” there was no pause or waver to the word; she was laying down the law at that moment, and Broden could only stand there and stare as his word was rebutted, something that not even his brothers had ever dared to do. “I’m no’ leaving. No’ yet. Ye… ye promised that, if I left last night and went straight home—and I did!—that ye’d meet me here and help me, and—dammit, Broden!—that’s what’s going to happen now! I did no’ go through this entire day looking forward to this moment just to have ye send me away, highlander!” She planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her already fierce glare into something carnal; something bestial.
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.