Page 66 of Her Orc Protector

We let the subject drop after that, turning instead to the practicalities of settling in—where to store the extra linens, how to fix the squeaky floorboard near the hearth, and whether the garden could be salvaged before winter set in. Ordinary concerns that grounded us in the present moment, in this small, imperfect space that was becoming ours.

As evening deepened, we prepared for Ellie's first night in her new room. Uldrek carefully assembled her cradle, checking each joint to ensure it was secure, while I hung a soft scarf above it like a canopy, creating a wash of gentle color in the lantern light.

Hobbie, who had been busy with her own mysterious preparations all afternoon, appeared in the doorway. "I’ll keep watch," she announced, gesturing to her basket-bed in the corner. "Sleep better with eyes on her."

I knew better than to argue. Hobbie's presence was a comfort, not an intrusion. And her protective instincts toward Ellie had proved valuable more than once.

After Ellie's evening bath, I nestled her in her cradle, humming softly as her eyes grew heavy. She fought sleep as she always did, tiny fists waving in protest until finally, inevitably, her breathing deepened and her body relaxed.

Uldrek and I lingered by the door, watching her sleep.

"She's really asleep," I whispered, still half-expecting her to wake at any moment.

"We should be too," Uldrek said, his voice low. But neither of us moved.

The realization of where we were—what we'd done—seemed to settle around us like a cloak. This was our home. Our family. Not temporary, not a lie told for protection, but something we'd built deliberately, piece by piece.

Finally, I stepped back, gently pulling the door halfway shut. Hobbie gave us a curt nod from her ridiculous but undeniably cozy-looking basket, then promptly closed her eyes, signaling the end of her interest in our activities.

We retreated to our bedroom—our room, not his or mine. The space was simple but welcoming, with the newly assembled bed beneath the window. The sheets and blankets we'd brought from Tinderpost House were folded neatly at the foot of the mattress, waiting to be spread. The air still smelled faintly of cedar and dust.

I laid my hand on the edge of the quilt, suddenly aware of the silence surrounding us. There were no barracks full of guardsmen nearby, no boarding house with thin walls, no Dora to appear with impeccable timing and innocent questions—just us.

Uldrek stood near the door, watching me. The lantern light caught the angles of his face, softening them.

"What is it?" I asked, noticing his hesitation.

"Just wondering if I should help with the bed or if you have some system I shouldn't interrupt."

I laughed softly. "I don't have a system." Then, noting his stillness, I added with gentle teasing, "What, are you scared of me now?"

He made a sound of mock offense, a low growl that sent a pleasant shiver through me. "I'm not scared of anything."

"No?" I took a step toward him. "Not even of sharing a bed with me? Properly, I mean. Not just sleeping."

His eyes darkened. "Now that," he said, his voice dropping lower, "that terrifies me."

We both laughed, a little breathless, like we'd just gotten away with something forbidden. And in a way, perhaps we had—escaped the past, outsmarted fear, found our way to this moment that had once seemed impossible.

I reached for his hand, drawing him toward me. "Come here," I said, and he did.

Our lips met with none of the hesitation of our previous encounters. His hands found my waist, steady and sure, as mine slid up to his shoulders, feeling the strength there. The kiss deepened, and with it came a sense of rightness, of finally arriving somewhere I belonged.

When we broke apart to breathe, Uldrek pressed his forehead to mine. "We should probably make the bed," he murmured.

"Probably," I agreed, making no move to do so.

Instead, I leaned in and kissed him again, allowing myself to melt against him—not out of fear or need or desperation, but simply because I wanted to. Because I could.

The day's tension, the worry about what was coming, the lingering fear—all of it receded, replaced by something warmer, more immediate. Tomorrow would bring what it would. But tonight was ours.

"How about," I whispered against his mouth, "we just make it messy instead?"

His laugh was low and full of promise as he lifted me gently onto the unmade bed. "That," he said, "I can definitely help with."

Chapter 19

The unmade bed beneath me was soft, the straw mattress giving way as Uldrek lowered me onto it. His mouth found mine again, the kiss deeper this time, more certain. I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing him closer, feeling the solid weight of him, the smell of cedar and clean sweat.

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