Writing for Fun
November 2023
Hunter’s Moon - Lynn Gale
Hot breath on my neck. I opened my mouth to scream but made no sound. Too late! I can’t run any more.
Eyes wide open, I sat up, heart beating rapidly. I stared around the unfamiliar room . . . at the high ceiling and dark oak-beamed walls filled with age and secrets. It took me a while to realise where I was. I pushed my sweat-soaked hair away from my burning head.
‘Another nightmare, my love?,’ My new husband rolled towards me. His low, throaty voice echoed around the room.
‘Yes, the same one.’ I shivered, he reached out a strong, muscular arm and pulled me towards him. I snuggled into his smooth, hairless chest. ‘It’s only nerves,’ he said, his face showing concern. ‘Tomorrow, it will all be over.’
A solo cycling holiday in the beautiful mountains of an Eastern European Principality could have ended in disaster when I was run off the road by a black sedan that didn’t stop. Lying in a ditch, concussed, covered with dirt and a sprained ankle, a dark Adonis with the most amazing green eyes I had ever seen clambered down and helped me out. He took me to his impressive family home, where a doctor was summoned. A few weeks rest was prescribed.
My handsome hero was Prince Randolph Lupino, the eldest son of Crown Prince Conri of Erivan. His family was warm and welcoming, spoiling me with all the pleasures money could buy. I enjoyed an amazing six weeks of pampering and, with the attentive Randolph catering to my every need, I never wanted it to end.
My recuperation over, I felt bereft. How could I go back to my lonely life in England?
As I packed to leave, Randolph came to my room. To my surprise, he dropped down on one knee and presented me with a beautiful moonstone ring. Ecstatic, I accepted his proposal. Me! An abandoned baby! A princess! A life of comfort and luxury awaited.
We married in a whirlwind of gold regalia, white lace and tall ferns in the exotic, landscaped gardens of the grand house. Holding onto the arm of Prince Conri, I was escorted between the rows of red velvet-covered chairs with gold bows filled with the vast Lupino clan. Their striking green eyes shone brightly as they turned to watch me. I felt a cold chill wash over me; it must be wedding day nerves I decided.
It was a rather staid reception, my husband deep in conversation with his father and uncles, while their dark-haired, green-eyed wives surrounded me, demanding to know all about me. As they got closer and closer, I was beginning to panic when Randolph appeared and rescued me from their probing questions. A long black car, that looked somewhat familiar, whisked us off to the coast for a honeymoon cruise around the Baltics on the family’s luxury yacht. Soaking up the late September sun, swimming in the cold clear water, and enjoying freshly prepared, delicious meals with my attentive husband. What more could I ask for? When Randolph informed me that we needed to head back for the commitment ceremony to be held on the twenty-eighth of October, he saw the confusion on my face, he assured me it was a family tradition and only then would I be accepted as a true Lupino.
Staring past Randolph, I gazed through the picture window and watched the grey clouds race across the night sky to reveal the Hunter’s moon in all its splendour. I looked up into his face, needing reassurance that all was well. Was that a glint of yellow in those piercing green eyes? No, of course not, just the reflection from that full, bright moon.