Page 31 of The Orc's Promised Bride

She tried to focus on their surroundings, but it was hard to think of anything other than the warmth of his palm at her back, and his solid presence at her side.

The library turned out to be larger than she’d expected, with floor-to-ceiling shelves and comfortable reading nooks scattered throughout. Shafts of afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching dust motes that danced in the air.

He sat beside her at a heavy wooden table, translating passages. His deep voice wrapped around the unfamiliar words, making them sound like poetry. She tried to focus on the text, searching for any mention of travelers between worlds, but found herself repeatedly distracted by his presence.

Their shoulders brushed as he leaned closer to examine an intricate illustration, and the contact sent a shiver through her body. Her breath caught and when she glanced up, she found him watching her with those intense green eyes. Heat flooded her cheeks and she quickly looked back at the book.

“This one mentions the goddess bringing gifts to her people,” he translated, his finger tracing the lines.

She shifted in her chair, hyper-aware of every point where their bodies almost touched. The library felt smaller somehow, more intimate, despite its grand size. Every time their hands accidentally met reaching for the same page, electricity crackled between them.

Hours passed as they pored through volume after volume. While the books contained fascinating histories and legends, none specifically mentioned anything similar to her arrival. But she found she didn’t mind the lack of progress as much as she should have. Each shared look, each accidental touch, each moment of charged silence built upon the last, creating an undercurrent of attraction that made it hard to concentrate on anything else.

An elderly woman in a simple gray dress appeared between the shelves, bobbing a quick curtsy.

“Lady Jessamin sent me to offer my assistance in preparing for dinner, my lady. I have clothing waiting at the bathhouse.”

She thought of her borrowed clothes, and the elegant woman she’d seen earlier. A proper bath and clean garments would be welcome. She nodded and rose, but when he rose as well, the maidservant cleared her throat.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but males aren’t permitted in the bathhouse at this hour.”

She glanced uncertainly at him. The thought of being separated from him made her uncomfortable, even within the safety of the convent walls. His jaw tightened, his protective instincts visible in the tension of his shoulders, but he only looked at her.

“It’s your choice,” he said.

She hesitated, then nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “But you’ll stay close?”

He cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her skin in a gentle caress that made her lean into his touch. After a moment, he nodded, though his reluctance was clear in his eyes.

He followed them down a winding corridor to a set of intricately carved doors.

“This is as far as you may go, sir,” the servant said politely but firmly, and he gave an abrupt nod.

“I will wait here.”

“If you’d care to change, I will bring Lady Jana to meet you in the small dining room.”

It was phrased like a suggestion, but it was clearly an order. He looked at her again and she managed to smile and nod again.

“Very well,” he growled, but he remained where he was until the doors closed behind them. The weight of his gaze lingered like a physical touch, making her skin tingle even after she could no longer see him.

Behind the doors was a series of bathing chambers. The servant led her to a large, steam-filled one, scented with lavender and something more exotic. Several deep pools were carved into the stone floor, steam rising from their surface.

The maidservant helped her undress and she sank into the nearest pool, letting out a contented sigh as the hot water eased her tired muscles. While she enjoyed the luxury of a proper bath after days of cold stream water, her thoughts kept drifting back to Lothar. She already missed his playful banter and protective presence.

After washing her hair with fragrant soaps, the maidservant helped her from the pool and wrapped her in soft linen towels. The woman’s skilled fingers worked through her damp hair, arranging it in an elegant style with a few small braids woven into the dark strands.

The dress they brought her was simple but beautiful - deep blue silk that flowed like water - and it fit astonishingly well. The fabric felt impossibly fine against her skin after days in Lothar’s borrowed clothes, although she still found herself missing the familiar feel of the coarse linen.

Following the maidservant back through the convent’s halls, her heart started beating faster, already anticipating seeing him again.This is ridiculous, she told herself.We’ve been apart less than an hour.

The woman led her to a small, elegant dining room with a wide window overlooking the town below. She saw Jessamin standing next to a massive orc who could only be King Ulric, but she barely registered their presence. Lothar was standing near the window, almost unrecognizable in formal attire with his hair neatly braided and threaded with small silver beads.

She was so used to his easygoing smile, his teasing, that this formal side of him took her by surprise. He looked powerful and handsome, but also distant, and her stomach knotted. But as soon as he saw her the tension in his posture eased, and then their eyes met.

The heat in his gaze made her breath catch, but along with the warmth spreading through her body was a sense of… homecoming, as if everything was suddenly right with the world. All of her fears disappeared as he came towards her. He was still her Lothar, her savior, her protector.

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