Abigail couldn’t get to Broden the next day. Though her parents had believed the story she and Tarah had worked out—falling asleep a short way’s out from the village, just like Broden had said; “the fresh air must have been all I needed,” she’d told them, “put me right to sleep, an’ when I awoke I felt all better”—the scare had made them overly attentive since. This, Abigail realized, was the first time she could ever remember her parents paying too much attention to her. She wasn’t so much condemned to stay home as much as she wasn’t offered a single moment to slip away. Her mother bored her with incessant gossip and her father awkwardly forced brief-yet-invasive conversations about work and other such nonsense. The sheer tedium of it all was overwhelming enough without the added burden of being away from Broden, which, Abigail realized, began a slow return of the sickness. By the end of the second day, she was already feeling worse than she had on the third day of her last “fasting” from the highlander.
Whatever is causing this, she thought, it’s getting worse.
And if she was getting sick, then it was very likely that Broden was, too. It was bizarre and, in any other circumstance, impossible, but he had been afflicted in the same way she had been. And, like her, their reunion had reversed it for him; instantly reversed it.
After that last encounter, even if it she wasn’t getting sick, it was torture to be away from him. Surrounded in the dull, mundane cycle that they called life, which only seemed to be comprised of repeated, self-inflicted misery coupled with an ongoing effort to shelter themselves from exactly the sort of excitement that made her feel that life was worth living in the first place.
They live in fear of dying without ever really living!
As the sun set on the second day, Abigail decided that she couldn’t wait to see Broden any longer. Tarah, who’d kept her secret (but not happily), had warned her not to go back. Though she agreed that Broden was handsome—though Abigail felt that was too weak a word for him—Tarah insisted that fantasy was fantasy and, eventually, it had to be left where fantasy belonged. When Abigail had asked her if she’d be willing to let fantasy stay fantasy if she had her own highlander waiting for her in those mountains, however, Tarah had only managed to scowl and look away, breaking the otherwise constant eye contact.
“Ye’d be better off moving on, Abby,” she’d finally said. “An’ that’s all there is to it.”
“‘All there is to it’ my arse!” Abigail hissed as she dragged herself out of her bed, fighting through the pain and beginning to dress.
She knew—once again without truly knowing how she knew—that as soon as she was out of the village and near Broden, it would all pass again. As though it was never even there. Remembering how abrupt her wellness had returned to her that last time was enough to spur her on. Never before had a sickness passed with such swiftness and without any lingering effects. It was like the difference between night and day—more like dying and living, she corrected herself—and all in an instant.
Then, sneaking through-and-then-out of the house like a shadow, she started for the village clinic, praying, for the first time ever, that Tarah and her self-destructive obsession to work hadn’t taken a day off.
* * *
Tarah had tried to talk Abigail out of her plans.
Tried!
It had been an admirable, albeit laughably brief, effort that had taken all but a few seconds. Enough time for Tarah to sigh, shake her head, and get the words ‘I,’ ‘doona’, and ‘think’ past her lips before Abigail’s prepared speech was unsheathed like a battle-ending saber:
“I doona give a damn what ye or anybody else thinks, Tarah! I canna begin to explain everything—doona even think I could if I tried—but all ye need to understand is that I need to do this. Alright? Ye… ye bury yerself in this office night after night, an’, even though I’ve tried to talk ye out of it so many times, ye doona! An’ why? Because ye need to, right? Because, whether or no’ anybody else understands, ye know this is right, an’ damned be the risks, right? Right? I need ye, Tarah, to understand this the way I’ve understood—even though I never understood ‘til now—that this was what ye needed. Well… now I need ye to understand—even if ye canna begin to understand—that I need to go out there. Broden and I need to be together, an’ I need ye to cover for me. This… this is no’ fantasy, Tarah. It’s… I think this may be my destiny…”
After that, it hadn’t taken much to convince Tarah to agree to lie to Abigail’s parents about her whereabouts if they discovered she was missing. The hardest part, as it turned out, was convincing her that the sickness would be cured once she was with Broden again. Tarah was willing to accept a great deal, but, being as committed to medicine as she was, that was more than she was willing to take on blind faith. Promising that she’d explain it (not sure if she truly could, though) when she got back, Abigail managed to earn another hesitant nod from her friend and, confident that she was covered, hurried out of the village. With the lights dimming with distance behind her and the mountain’s forests rising ahead of her, Abigail found herself already feeling healthier.
How in the hell could I possibly explain this to Tarah? she absently wondered before starting to run up the mountain.
Once again, she already knew he would be in their spot.
* * *
“Ye came back,” Broden’s deep burr, like his touch, sent an excited tremor through her body.
“I said I would,” she smiled warmly.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Aye, but after ye didn’t yesterday I began to wonder. Yer friend—shite, yer parents from the sounds of it—doona seem to like the idea of ye being out here. I began to wonder if ye’d been convinced to stay away; maybe settle down with another. I canna imagine ye doona have better suiters than me.”
“Suiters?” she shook her head. “Forgetting entirely that, between the sickness we both seem to share when we’re apart an’ the mind-breaking boredom I feel whenever I’m down there too long, there’s the fact that there’s pigs—actual pigs, Broden—in that village that would make better suitors than any of the so-called men living there!”
Broden stared at her, blinking at the aggression in her voice.
Abigail rolled her eyes. “Enough with that! I doona have any patience left fer ye to try to be a gentleman or keep me away. I want ye—I need ye!—an’, dammit, I feel like ye need me, too!”
He looked up at that, his gaze growing heated, and, true to her words, she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Summoning all the courage she could muster, she stepped forward and pressed her body against his. Instantly, his hands moved up and captured her waist. She smiled against his lips at the reaction and tilted her chin to face him.
“Ye play with fire, lass,” he said in a low growl.
“Then I won’t be surprised if ye burn me, highlander,” she purred back.
Lunging forward, he slammed his lips to hers in a ferocious kiss. True to his words, the impact was scorching. It sought to punish and claim her, and Abigail willingly succumbed to both. She moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck, submitting to his touch. She might not have been able to tell him the words to make him know how sincere her emotions were, but she could sure as hell show him.
“Och! Would ye look at that?” another, more light-hearted burr sounded a short way’s away, startling both of them to break the embrace. “Someone’s finally managed to melt me big brother’s cold shoulder!”
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 Broden’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.
Then, leaning up, she pressed a kiss to the scar that crossed over his left eye before moving down and beginning to trail similar kisses along the tattoos and scars that littered his torso, groaning around her arousal as she felt the firm muscle and jagged breaths swelling the surface beneath her lips. He shivered at the contact, and when she glanced up to see his face she caught him looking down at her. His eyes, previously filled solely with lust, now held that and something else. Wonder or fear, Abigail thought, though she couldn’t be sure. Before she could dwell on it further, though, he leaned down and kissed her again. This kiss was different from the others, while the ones weren’t unemotional, this kiss was filled with something more.
And then she realized it: he’d still been worried about her thoughts towards his appearance, and her casual kisses across what he viewed as flaws had wiped away the last of those concerns. The heightened, uncaged passion behind this kiss overwhelmed Abigail and her need for him grew too great to bear any longer.
“Broden! I need ye! Make love to me, please…” she moaned.
Moving down, he began to kiss down her neck as he made his way to her bare breasts. Leaning down, he captured one of her nipples in his mouth as he began to rub the other with his thumb. As he continued his assault on her breasts, she leaned up against his touch, begging for more.
“Och! Ye really are askin’ fer it, aren’t ye, lass?” he chuckled, moving further down, opening her legs wide. “Oh! So wet!”
“Oh! Broden! What are ye…?” her eyes widened as his head disappeared between her legs.
The intense pleasure of his mouth set her off and she cried out, arching against his mouth. As he intimately kissed her, his fingers began to explore and she moaned against the feel of his touch. She moved her hands to his shoulders, digging her fingers in as he continued his exploration.
“Broden! I canna wait any longer!” she shivered. “Please…”
“As ye wish,” he smiled, moving over her.
She shivered, feeling his girth press to her entrance. She whimpered and arched against the feel of him, waiting. After a moment, he began to push inside her, burying himself deep inside. She bit her lip as a shot of pain jolted her from his size and he paused to lean down and kiss her gently as he moved his hand down, rubbing her just right.
“Oh!” she murmured after a moment, nodding. “It feels better now.”
“That’s my lass,” he groaned, beginning to gently rock inside her.
“… my lass.”
Something in that sounded right—felt right—in Abigail’s ears, and she felt the first of a series of small bursts echo beneath her skin as the moment took hold of her. This, along with a few more thrusts that finally allowed her insides to become acquainted with his shape, allowed the pain to melt away. The next thrust was met with sheer and immense pleasure. As Broden’s tempo continued to grow inside her, she could feel her climax climbing and she arched up against him.
“Oh! I’m close!” she cried out.
“Do it,” he groaned. “Come for me!”
She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pressed her face into his throat. She didn’t want to be heard by the others. She cried out against his neck as her orgasm consumed her and she began to undulate beneath him. He let out a loud roar as his own climax shot through him and she could feel him filling her. After a few moments, he fell again her, still buried deep inside her.
“That was amazing,” she whispered against his neck, working to catch her breath.
“It… it truly was” he panted, looking down at her and kissing her forehead.
Snuggling against him, Abby closed her eyes as she allowed the exhaustion she had been feeling consume her. Broden pulled her tighter against him and she fell asleep to his steady breathing.
This, she realized, she could get used to.