Page 20 of The Orc's Promised Bride

“These purple flowers - they look similar to echinacea, but the petals are different.” She lifted a slender branch, examining itclosely. “And this bark… the pattern is like willow, but the scent is completely new. Yet this is clearly a longleaf pine cone.”

He watched her sort through his findings, delighted with her obvious pleasure as she separated the plants into neat piles.

“This one,” she held up a cluster of white berries, “we definitely don’t have these at home. What do you call them?”

“Moonberries,” he answered in his language, then repeated it in English. “They glow at night.”

“Really? I’ve never seen anything like that before. Do you use them for anything?”

Did she realize she’d responded in his language? She’d learned it with startling speed and didn’t even seem to notice how frequently she used it.

“Not the berries. They’re poisonous. But the leaves can be steeped for a tea that eases sore muscles.”

She turned the berry-laden stem over in her hands, then set it carefully aside and sketched a quick picture. The way her face lit up delighted him, along with the way she unconsciously leaned closer to him as she asked questions. Her skittishness seemed to vanish when she was intent on learning.

He sat back and surveyed the camp with satisfaction while she sorted her plants. He’d transformed their temporary home into something approaching comfort over the past few days. The lean-to he’d constructed kept the morning dew off their sleeping area. He’d spent hours gathering the softest moss he could find to cushion the ground beneath their bedroll, making it almost as comfortable as a proper bed.

The cooking area had evolved from a simple fire ring into a proper hearth, with flat stones creating a stable platform for cooking, and her drying rack to one side. Another task that had taken a considerable amount of time, but her delight had made it worth every minute. Perhaps he should gather some longer branches and build a smoking chamber to one side of the hearth. Preserving some of the marta meat would add to the stock of supplies he was assembling.

For when we leave.He quickly pushed that thought aside. He was in no hurry to leave their camp.

“Admiring your improvements?” Her voice interrupted his thoughts, and he looked back to find her smiling at him. “I’m a fan - especially since you added the padding under the bedroll.”

“I’m glad you’re sleeping better.”

He did his best to keep his tone neutral although the past two nights had been both a blessing and a curse. She’d continued to insist that they share the bedroll and the new shelter. Each night, he’d carefully positioned himself at the far edge of the sleeping area, determined to give her space. And every night she ended up curled trustingly against him.

Her presence beside him filled an emptiness he hadn’t even known existed, but each morning it became harder to resist the urge to pull her closer, to bury his face in her hair and claim what his heart increasingly insisted was his. How could someone who flinched at sudden movements while awake seek him out so naturally in sleep? The contrast tormented him, along with the growing certainty that she was meant for him, despite his lack of prayer to the gods.

As if in rebuttal to his thoughts, she reached for the walking stick he’d carved for her. He’d spent hours getting the height just right, smoothing the wood until there wasn’t a single rough spot to hurt her hands.

“I think I’m ready to try again,” she said, using the stick to push herself up.

He tensed, ready to catch her if she stumbled. But she balanced carefully, testing her weight on the injured ankle. The sight of her in his shirt, which hung nearly to her knees, stirred feelings he tried to suppress.

“We should be able to leave soon,” she said, taking a tentative step. “I can walk well enough now.”

His chest ached. Of course she wanted to leave - she had no reason to stay in this makeshift camp, no matter how much it had come to feel like home to him. He forced himself to focus on practical matters.

“The ankle still swells by evening,” he pointed out, moving closer as she took another step. “And you’re favoring it.”

“I can manage.” She gave him the determined look that he was coming to recognize. “We can’t stay here forever.”

Why not?

He bit back his instinctive response. No matter how comfortable he made the camp, they couldn’t stay isolated forever. If nothing else his brothers would eventually come looking for him.

“I need to find answers,” she added, running her fingers over the smooth wood of her walking stick. “About how I got here, why I’m here.”

She took another step, wobbling slightly, and he reached out automatically to steady her. This time she didn’t flinch from his touch, and that small victory made his pulse quicken - as did the feel of her silky skin beneath his hand.

“We could stay,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “Build a proper shelter. Hunt. Gather plants.”

She smiled up at him, still not moving away and he had to force himself not to pull her closer.

“It’s tempting.” Her expression grew serious again. “But something’s pushing at me, like… like I need to be somewhere. I just don’t know where.”

He shifted uncomfortably, considering their options. The shrine where Kari had appeared lay far to the north of his village - and he didn’t like the idea of taking her there. What if the gods decided to send her back? He couldn’t bear the idea of losing her. But perhaps there was another way for her to get the answers she was seeking.

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