Copyright © Bronwyn Green 2010
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Excerpt From: Moonlit Ménage

The softly babbling river behind Brontë Matthews and the breeze dancing through the leaves provided accompaniment to the haunting melody spilling from her fingertips. It pulled at her, drawing her into a swiftly moving current of emotion. Unease and pleasure swirled together, flowing through her as rapidly as the water. It was as if the music wove a spell, drawing out her hidden feelings for the two men in front of her—desire, confusion, longing, lust. The song echoed her every emotion.

Closing her eyes, she tried to grasp the next, elusive phrase from her memory as her bow danced across her viola. In her mind’s eye, she could see the cascading notes, scrawled across her composition notebook, but they vanished into a smudge of ink. Frustrated and unable to recall the phrase, she repeated the previous line and lifted her bow from the quivering strings. The last note hung suspended, trembling in the still morning air.

"Where did you hear that?" Quillen Davies demanded.

Brontë slowly lowered her instrument to her lap as his voice slashed through the tranquillity of the moment.

"What do you mean?" she asked, studying his face. His normally relaxed demeanour had vanished, and horror replaced the laughter always apparent in his eyes. She looked to his friend, Tarran Ashe. Though he was usually the more taciturn of the two men, he looked as upset as Quill. She frowned. What the hell was their problem?

Quillen bent his head closer to hers. "I mean, where did you hear it, cariad?" Worry increased his accent’s musical lilt, contrasting sharply wit...