SeducingtheHuntress by Mel Teshco Page B

of his domain. “Please don’t,” she
whispered. “If there’s one thing I did learn in the time I was away, it’s that
I don’t want any more violence and bloodshed.”
    Her dad’s brows drew low over narrowed eyes. “My god,
Isabella. What happened to you out there?” he asked roughly.
    “Survival happened to me,” she said awkwardly, busying
herself by pouring more tea from the pot.
    His face turned thoughtful. “I’ve had a lot to consider too.
And in fact I spent half the night thinking about what was best for my little
girl’s future.”
    “I’m not your little girl anymore.”
    Reuben had seen to that.
    Jacob sighed. “Exactly.”
    Her hands linked around the warmth of her mug when she
asked, “Daddy, what’s this all about?”
    One of his thumbs pushed idly back and forward along the lip
of his mug. “You’ll find out soon enough. But for now,” a sudden grin split his
face, “we have celebrations to attend.”
    Isabella returned to her bedroom to find their maid had laid
a gown out on her bed. She pressed a hand to her mouth, emotions churning at
seeing one of her mother’s best dresses.
    Her dad’s footfall sounded behind her. “Your mother would
have wanted you to wear it,” he said hoarsely.
    She didn’t have the heart to tell him that dressing up in
her mother’s finery was the last thing she wanted. But somehow, with the fine
white material clinging to her slender shape, the sheer material leaving little
to the imagination, she discovered she could pretend she was a princess. And
her prince was out there waiting for her.
    It was a charade she kept up even after she stepped out the
door with her father by her side. Dusk was just settling in, streaks of red and
burnt orange on the far horizon. A fire glowed in the distance, where a pair of
whole pigs and a deer were roasting, turned by willing hands on a large
hand-forged iron spit.
    One of the village musicians strummed out sensual notes on a
stringed jae . He was accompanied by someone thumping out the heavier
beat of a pak pak . Already couples were up and dancing, drinks in hand
and laughter spilling free.
    “Go on, enjoy yourself,” her dad said, aware of her love for
music and dance.
    She stepped forward, wishing that her prince really was
going to come and rescue her. Except there was nothing he needed to save her
from anymore, except her self-pity. Her eyes watered. She pushed back her
tears. She’d never been one for crying until recently, she wasn’t about to let
it become a habit.
    She accepted a drink, and then another. The alcohol, the
music, her empty stomach and the supposed joyous occasion all quickly went to
her head. One of the men pulled her up to dance around the fire. She couldn’t
help but laugh—though she felt almost numb inside. He twirled her around and
for a nanosecond she could swear she saw the red eyes of a nightmix through
the dark trees.
    A short, sharp pain squeezed her chest and for a moment took
away her breath.
    Madness! Yes, that was it, she was going mad.
    Another man downed the last of his drink and joined them on
the makeshift dance floor. She giggled, surrendering to a surge of hysteria.
She wasn’t dancing with men. They were still boys compared to Reuben. Another
manic laugh slipped free, but going by the pleased look on the men’s faces and
the light in their stares, it seemed at least one of them imagined they’d be
getting lucky tonight.
    Her smile dimmed. Goddess, no. Just thinking about being
with another man had her belly cramping with nausea.
     
    Reuben stopped in the deep shadows of the trees and stared
at Isabella as she danced. Longing warred with deep, dark jealousy at the men
crowding around her. But it was the laughter spilling from her lips that caused
red-hot pain to pierce his chest.
    Had he been wrong about her? Did she not love him the way he
loved her?
    His beast stirred. He quelled it. But not before he wondered
if she’d seen the feral gleam of his red nightmix