Page 56 of Her Orc Protector

I stepped onto the cracked path, conscious of Uldrek watching me. The windchime clinked softly as I passed, as if in greeting. Up close, I could see that the blue shutters had been repainted at some point, the newer color slightly mismatched with patches of the original that showed through where the paint had flaked away.

"The owner died during the war," Uldrek explained as we reached the porch. "Her daughter inherited it, but she lives in Valara now. Doesn't want to come back."

"So it's been empty all this time?"

He nodded. "Kazrek mentioned it. His sister rented it for a while, but she’s gone back home to Port Haven."

I ran my hand along the weathered wooden railing of the porch. It was sturdy despite its aged appearance. "And you found it before anyone else could?"

"Maybe," he said, a trace of smugness in his tone. Then, more seriously, "Want to see inside?"

He produced a heavy iron key with a simple pattern etched into its head. It turned easily in the lock, and the door swung open with only the faintest creak.

I stepped across the threshold, immediately enveloped by the scent of old wood, dust, and dried herbs. Sunlight filtered through the windows at an angle, catching the floating motes that our entrance had disturbed. The main room was modest but welcoming—a narrow hearth dominated one wall, while a simple wooden table sat beneath the front window, positioned to catch the morning light.

Two doorways led off from the main space—one to what appeared to be a small kitchen area, the other to what I assumed were sleeping chambers.

The house creaked beneath our feet as we moved further inside, but it wasn't the protesting groan of unstable structures. It was the comfortable settling of a place that had stood long enough to know its own voice.

"It's quiet," I said softly.

Uldrek nodded. "Far enough from the market to avoid the noise but close enough to walk. And the river's just behind those trees." He gestured toward the back window. "Good for water. And..." he hesitated, "...nice to look at. Sometimes."

I moved slowly around the perimeter of the room, letting my fingers trail along the wall. The plaster was worn in places but solid, the hearth clean and well-maintained. I paused at the mantel, noticing the faint outlines where objects had once sat—perhaps family treasures, removed when the owner died.

"Kitchen's through here," Uldrek said, leading the way through one of the doorways.

The kitchen was small but functional, with a stone sink beneath a window that looked out onto a tiny herb garden. Cabinets lined one wall, and a small woodstove sat in the corner.

Uldrek checked one of the cabinet doors with a grunt. "Hinge is loose," he noted. "Easy fix, though."

I opened another cabinet, finding it empty but clean. "Furnished?"

"Partially," he said. "The big pieces stay. Table, bed, stove. We'd need our own... everything else." He looked slightly embarrassed. "I don't have much. Just what's in my pack."

"I don't have much either," I reminded him gently.

He nodded, looking relieved. "We'd figure it out."

The bedroom was larger than I'd expected, with windows on two sides allowing for cross-breezes. A solid wooden bedframe stood against one wall, bare of linens but sturdy-looking. A simple wardrobe completed the furnishings.

"The other room's smaller," Uldrek said, gesturing toward the final doorway. "Could be for Ellie.”

We stepped into the smaller room, which was bathed in warm light from a single window. The space was empty save for a low shelf built into one wall—perfect for a child's height.

"Ellie would love this," I said softly. "She's already trying to pull herself up on everything. She'd use that shelf to stand."

I moved to the window to test the latch, finding it secure but easy to operate. "Good," I murmured. "Easy to open for air, but not for tiny fingers."

Uldrek stepped behind me, reaching past to check the frame above the window. "Solid," he confirmed. "No rot."

He was close—too close, his heat radiating against my back. His arm remained braced above mine, his chest nearly touching my shoulder. I meant to turn slightly, to make some practical comment about the window or the light or anything mundane. Instead, I found myself looking up into his face, suddenly struck by the intensity of his gaze.

He wasn't smiling now. His eyes were dark and intent, fixed on mine with an expression that made my breath catch. Slowly,deliberately, he reached up and tucked a stray curl behind my ear, his knuckles brushing my cheek as he did.

I exhaled, and the sound trembled between us.

"If I kiss you here," he said, "I might not stop."

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