Page 40 of His Orc Lady

“Aye,” I whisper. “Most everyone did. Gorvor had been figuring out a plan to save the clan from ruin and didn’t have time for his much younger cousin. My mother’s sister had moved away from the clan to live with her mate at another outpost in the mountains and didn’t visit often.”

I shrug, though the memory of that dark, lonely period still stings. “It was easy for a use?—”

I stop, refusing to call myself useless again. I’d come too far to let my father’s old notions affect my present.

Clearing my aching throat, I try again. “It was easy for a girl to slip through the cracks. I had no real girlfriends because my father had pushed me into training with the boys, and the boys didn’t have time for me because they were always training. I didn’t dare go outside because it was dangerous to go out alone, so I spent my time discovering all the hidden parts of the mountain palace.”

Owen rubs my back in soothing circles, his palm warming me through the thin linen of my undershirt. It’s exactly the support I need to continue.

“My mother walked out of our rooms one winter morning. I was still asleep, and I didn’t hear her leave, but I wouldn’t have known to stop her even if I did.” A lump forms in my throat, painfully tight, and tears sting my eyes, but I force myself to continue. “She was always walking, wandering around like a ghost.”

Warm arms wrap around me, and Owen pulls me to his chest. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry I insisted?—”

“No, I want to,” I interrupt him, my voice higher than before. “I think Ineedto.”

“All right.” He kisses the top of my head. “Then I’ll listen.”

“She walked out the front gate. The guards on duty saw her, but not one of them thought to stop a woman who so clearly wasn’t well.” I sniff, some of the old anger simmering to the surface. “They were trained to keep enemies out, not prevent our clanspeople from leaving.”

“And she never returned?” Owen guesses.

I shake my head, unable to speak. Tears spill over, running down my cheeks. I swipe at them with the edge of the blanketuntil Owen takes a clean, neatly pressed linen handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to me.It’s embroidered with his initials, the stitches neat, done in blue thread.

“My mother did that for me,” he confesses, his lips warm against my forehead. “I’d complained I kept losing my handkerchiefs in the laundry at the barracks, and for my next name day, I got a stack of these.” He pauses, then adds, “I don’t go home often enough. Your story made me realize it.”

I sniff and dab my eyes with the soft linen. “You should. Visit her, I mean. Family is important.”

“I know. My mother would like you. My father, too, though he might be confused about why a lady such as yourself would stoop to a lowly soldier like me.” He shakes his head, cutting off my protest. “I know, we’re equals and all, but he’d take one look at your fine dresses and pretty gold jewelry and wonder all the same.”

He touches the rings in my earlobe one by one, his fingers gentle. I shiver when he skims the pointed tip of my ear, and his gaze sharpens, as if he’s aware he found a part of me he needs to explore further. But he continues on and cups the back of my neck with his big palm, tips my chin up, and brings his lips to mine, a slow and comforting kiss.

“Does it bother you that I’m better off than you?”I ask.

I meet his gaze, my lips still tingling from his kisses. It’s a stalling tactic on my part, talking about this when I should finish my story, but thiscouldbe an issue between us, one we’d need to resolve before progressing our relationship.

But Owen shakes his head, a small smile twisting his lips. “No, Mara. I can’t keep you in silk and gold, but I suppose you’re more than capable of doing that on your own.” He fingers the fine embroidery on the sleeve of my undershirt, then adds, “Iwason my way to become a major in a year or two. Perhaps even a colonel if I played my cards right.”

I lift an eyebrow at him. “Was? You’re saying you’re not anymore?”

“That will all depend on what Lady Willow decides to do,” he says cryptically. “She hasn’t decided yet, so for now, I don’t want to give you a definitive answer.”

My chest floods with a mixture of hope and dread. Is he saying that he could possibly bestayinghere if Willow decides to be with Ozork? I like Ozork’s mate, but now, I find myself impatient with the woman. If she holds Owen’s future in her hands, she should tell him what she intends to do, no?

“I can see you thinking.” Owen interrupts my thoughts by rubbing his thumb between my eyebrows, no doubt smoothing away the frown lines there. “I’m impatient, too, but it’s only been several days. If you think about it, we’ve moved quite far for knowing each other less than a week.”

I purse my lips, holding back the argument that I might be with child already if we were both orcs and we gave in to our instincts that first time we saw each other.

Owen takes my silence as acquiescence, though, and kisses me quickly, then adds, “We’ll know soon enough.”

His voice is hopeful, but to me, it spells disaster—what if Willow decidesnotto remain at the Hill? Ozork would follow her to the human lands, and so would Owen, by his duty. And I’d still be stuck here…

“You didn’t finish your story,” Owen reminds me.

I sigh, knowing he’s right. “It’s not pretty.”

He considers me, then throws off the covers with a quick flick of his hand. “I didn’t come here forprettystories. Only the truth.”

He swings his feet from the bed, puts on his boots, and stands. I stare up at him, blinking unhappily. Is he really leaving? Now?

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