Page 16 of Mistletoe

The Aerie was famed for being impregnable. A traitor opening the gates was unprecedented and a clear victory, but there were too many factors. The weather, for one. It had been cold and snowy on the prairie. The winds had to be brutal on the mountain.

Emma shook her head in disagreement. “Even if the military could waltz right in without resistance, they still have to march up the mountain. Conditions have not been favorable.”

“I didn’t realize you were a military strategist,petal.”

Emma bristled at the mocking tone and the pet name. Only her family could use such monikers. “Sir, you should not presume such familiarity. You do not know me.”

“Don’t I? Everyone knows you, Miss De Lacey.Gentle as the morning, peaceful as silence,” he quoted, then huffed. “Your pa got that one wrong. Doesn’t seem to be anything peaceful or silent about you.”

Ugh, that blasted poem. Her father’s ode to a prairie flower that flourished in the harsh environment struck a chord with a sentimental audience. Despite its popularity, no one seemed to understand it, and Emma was tired of explaining it.

Almost as tired as she was of the flower jokes.

“Let’s go, Pa,” she said.

The soldier grabbed her by the hand, preventing her from leaving. “Come on, petal,” he cajoled. “Loosen up. Have some fun.”

“Unhand me.” Emma jerked her arm back, but his grip tightened.

“Or perhaps take the stick out of your ass.”

Her father finally seemed to notice that his companion was an unsavory sort and demanded an apology from him.

Emma did not need her father to sort this problem out. Perhaps a more refined lady would have protested and cried in alarm, beseeching the aid of others. That certainly seemed to be the expected thing. However, Emma was perfectly capable of grabbing her mug of coffee and slamming it into the side of her assailant’s face.

The ceramic did not break, which was disappointing, but it made a satisfying noise. Hot liquid splashed over him, ruining that perfect uniform.

There. Sorted.

Chapter Five

Emma

Sweetwater Point

The Tavern

Silence hung over the tavern,all sharp edges and ready to fall, slicing everyone to ribbons.

The soldier gasped, dragging his hand across his face and through his hair to shake off the coffee. The aroma of vanilla and brown sugar was unmistakable.

“If it’s any consolation, you smell delightful,” she said.

“I demand satisfaction!” He flicked his hand, scattering drops of overly sweet coffee.

“Let’s calm down,” her father said. “Apologize to my daughter, and all will be forgiven.”

It was too late for apologies. The mood in the tavern soured, shifting from jubilant to agitated.

A barstool scraped across the floor. Emma heard Nina’s loud and much put-upon sigh. Without glancing over her shoulder, she already knew the sheriff wore an unhappy expression. This situation had only one resolution.

The silence broke. A figure burst through the front window, wearing an old saddle blanket over his head and shoulders like a cowl. Glass shards fell to the floor. The blanket fell away, revealing an orc—her orc.

This was not good. An orc in the tavern full of soldiers sworn to defend the population against monsters and the sheriff who was from a family of monster hunters? Disastrous, yet somehow exactly what she’d expect from the orc she discovered stark naked in her barn.

Why be discreet about your very existence when you can be dramatic?

The orc charged across the room and grabbed the offending soldier, yanking him off his feet with force.

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