Page 10 of Wagered to the Orc
I worked up the courage to ask, “What did you do?” while twisting the rag in front of me.
“I left them outside. Mama mouse is going to have to find a new place to move them so I can have my pot back.” He glanced up at me, even as his fingers worked to tie the leather into a sort of cone. “In the meantime, I’ll fill this with water and get a fire going, so ye can wash with warm water, and I’ll fetchsomething soft to eat.”
My mouth dropped open as he left once more and I was left standing in the middle of the cozy room.
He was…he knew my jaw ached and was offering me soft food? He was heating water formeto wash?
I glanced down at my gown again. ‘Twould never be as fine as Sorcha or Roxanna’s, but it had been my best before this journey began. Now ‘twas dirty from my falls, and the vomit I had landed in. I likely smelled horrible. Was that why he was offering me a wash?
“’Twas a kindness, anyway,” I whispered, twisting the rag in uncertainty. “And he did not have to be kind.”
Taking a deep breath, I glanced around the room. Beside the hearth there was a cabinet I imagined might hold cooking implements, and a sturdy table with a set of chairs. Along the opposite wall there were hooks and a screen, and a huge bed was pushed into the corner, the coverlet tucked snugly around the mattress to protect it from the faint layer of dust.
Aye, thiswasa cozy space, one well-maintained.
I glanced toward the open door again.
What would happen to me when we reached his village? Would he turn me over to his chief who held Sorcha? Korvak had called Sorcha his brother’sMate, and the description of such a state made it sound special. Could she protect me from whatever the orcs had planned?
Nay, I needed to protect myself.
And I had long ago learned how to do that.
My mother and John had taught me.
Swallowing, my hands rose to the ties of my gown. By becoming the property of one male, I was safe from the urges, theviolence, of the others.
I slidAHarlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts, which had been tucked between my breasts for the duration of our ride, from my bodice and moved to the bed. Lifting the mattress, I slipped it beneath, hoping Sorcha’s prized possession would remain safe.
Mayhap I could put some of that long-forgotten harlot’s knowledge to good use.
As I stripped from my outer gown, I glanced around the room again. I thought of the tiny helpless mice he had every reason to exterminate, but instead he had relocated. I thought of this home, obviously taken care of. I thought of the horses, well-trained and calm.
I thought of the way Korvak had saved me from John, and whether he realized it, from Moltar as well. My jaw still ached from the male’s blow, and I imagined I was bruised.
Korvak had saved me.
He could save me again.
If I made myself valuable to him.
And I only had one thing of value.
I hung my gown from one of the hooks and reached up to untie my braids. Mother once told me that men preferred their females to look wanton, hair around their shoulders, so I would see if that helped.
I was pulling my stockings from my legs when Korvak stomped back into the cottage, a stack of firewood in one arm and the full leather cauldron in the other. He stopped, gaze dropping to my bare knee where it emerged from the chemise I was holding up.
His nostrils flared, and as I watched, the front of his kilt shifted. His cock was not unaffected by the sight of my bare legs, and despite the nervousness twisting in me, I hoped that was a good sign.
Abruptly, Korvak tuned to the hearth. He dropped the wood, hung the leather cauldron from the crane, and lowered himself to one knee to arrange the kindling.
I hurried to remove my other stocking, watching him.
He had a surprisingly lovely back, did he not? I had always secretly admired the way the muscles of a man’s back moved as he worked or sparred, and Korvak’s were the finest I had seen. Well, no surprise—the male was also the biggest, most muscular I had seen. His hands were strong, his arms were the size of my legs, and his back was quite a thing of beauty.
Thoughtfully, I straightened, still holding my chemise ruched up to my thighs.
When he rotated, still on one knee, I sucked in a gasp again at the ugly, hard angles of his face. That scar twisted his expression into something dark…or mayhap ‘twas his thoughts as his gaze slowly moved from my face to my chest to my legs.
