Page 51 of His Orc Lady

Steagor rumbles out a laugh. “Oh, come on, would you want your Hazel to show up naked in front of me and the captain?”

Vark growls, then bites back the sound and shakes his head, contrite. “I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry for teasing you, Mara.”

Owen lifts his head and blinks at me. His gaze moves from my feet up my body to where my breasts strain against the bathing sheet. His eyelids lower a little, and I squirm in place, fighting both shyness and arousal at the same time.

“Did we look this smitten?” Steagor muses, glancing from Owen to me and back.

Vark picks up a bar of soap and tosses it at him. “Aye, you’re still exactly like that whenever Poppy’s close.”

I glower at them both, worried they might say too much. “You lot should get out, too. It’s almost time for dinner.”

Owen groans, then scrubs his face with his hands. “I want to remain in here forever, honestly. But I promised Ozork I’d escort Lady Willow to the king’s chambers. I’ll see you later?”

I can’t help but grin at him. He’s asking about the dinner, true, but also about the meeting we’d arranged for afterward. “Aye.”

Then I scamper away before the temptation to stay and watch Owen get out of the pool gets the best of me. In my room, I put on one of my nicest gowns, a deep crimson one that complements my skin and cinches my waist in just the right spot. I braid my hair and coil it up in a crown, securing it in place with golden hairpins, then exchange the plain gold hoopsin my ears with prettier earrings, ones I asked Torren to make for me. They’re fashioned in the shape of holly leaves, complete with tiny rubies for the berries, and they’re perfect for tonight’s celebration.

I leave off any perfume because I want Owen to scentme—there’s nothing that compares to the scent of a true mate, and tonight, when I explain everything to him, he might want to get an extra whiff to confirm it.

My excitement grows as I leave my room and hurry down the corridors to the great hall, just to check in with Earna. She’s busy seasoning the fennel salad that will be served alongside the boar roast and the potatoes, and she waves me on, calling out that everything is going according to plan.

I swoop in anyway and press her in a quick hug. “Thank you, Earna. For taking such good care of us.”

Her already flushed cheeks turn a darker shade of green. “My pleasure, dearie. I made some of those nut paste pastries for dessert.”

“Ooh!” I grasp her hand and squeeze her fingers. “The ones you made for the secret cake tin a couple of weeks ago?”

She grins. “Aye, the very same. Now run along, or you’ll be late!”

I arrive at Gorvor’s chambers to find the door thrown wide, the party already beginning. Steagor and Poppy are there, sitting on a padded bench at the side of the room. Steagor is wrapped around her, and she’s resting against him, the picture of perfect calm. Vark has brought Hazel, and I hug them both, glad they’ve come to support Ozork.

The orc we’re celebrating today arrives not long after, smelling strongly of his mate. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs, clearly unrepentant. He moves toward Gorvor to speak quietly with him, then stands at the entrance to the room, waiting for his lady to show up.

When she does, it’s on Owen’s arm, and he hands her over to Ozork with a polite bow. Then he makes his way directly to me, his grin wide. “I don’t think she suspects anything. I didn’t even let on I knew about the dinner, so it should be a surprise for her.”

He keeps his voice pitched low, not that Willow is paying any attention to him. She’s talking quietly to Ozork, whose craggy face is glowing with joy. At the sight of them, happy tears sting my eyes. Ozork waited for so long to find his mate, and now it seems he’s figured out a way to build a life for both of them.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Owen murmurs.

I glance up at him, heat rising in my cheeks. “Thank you.”

“You’re always beautiful.” Owen closes his eyes for a moment and draws in a deep inhale. “But this dress is very pretty, that’s what I meant to say.”

I tug lightly on the sleeve of his jacket. “You’re not looking too shabby either, Captain.”

He’s put on his high-collared jacket with the three golden pips and combed back his hair into a neat bun at the back of his head. My fingers itch from wanting to undo the tie from his hair and dig my fingers through it, especially now that I know how smooth and silky it is.

“You’re staring, my lady.”

I glance up with a gasp, caught in the moment. His words are deep, and tension builds between us.

“I might decide I don’t care for the king’s dinner after all,” he continues, his voice barely audible above the murmur of the conversations around us. “I want to take you away from here to somewhere we can be alone.”

“I can’t,” I groan. “I want to, but this is important. We need to wait.”

He puts his hand on the small of my back. “Oh, I know. I only wanted to tell you how I feel.”

I bite my lip, then mirror his gesture, only I don’t leave my palm on his back but slide it a little lower.

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