Page 15 of Wagered to the Orc
My opportunity came sooner than I expected.
The fifth day at the cottage, I woke to the gentle patter of rain on the branches above me, and I was pleased we’d plugged the leaks in the thatch over the cottage. Still, I’d planned to ride the mare to the neighboring croft to exchange some of thebkarnmeat for fruit and dairy, and a wee drizzle wouldn’t stop me. I loaded the gelding, ensured that Effie knew where my dagger was in case of danger, and reassured her that naught would bother her.
At the door, I hesitated, surprised by how natural it would feel to reach for Effie, to embrace her, to tell her I’d be home soon.
Instead, I dug my claws into my palms and resisted the urge.
By the time I returned to the croft, ‘twas late in the day and the rain was much heavier. I was soaked, the chill leeching into my bones, but the trip had been successful. I wanted to hurry through the horse’s care in order to show my treasures to Effie, but I forced myself to take my time.
When I did enter the house, she sprung from the chair by the small fire with a welcoming smile, and when I saw she’d been mending one of my wintershirts, a pang of something like homesickness swept through me.
What would it be like to return home each day to a female like this? A female delighted to see me, who cared for me as I cared for her?
“Did you get apples for Mags?” she asked, pressing both palms to the table and leaning forward eagerly.
My voice was gruff when I answered. “I did. Also cheese, eggs and…”
I triumphantly unwrapped the last bundle, and she finished the sentence.
“Bread!” Her whisper was almost reverent. “Oh, Korvak, thank you!”
Gods below, I loved it when she used my name instead ofMaster.
Supper that night was delicious and, I had to admit, almostfun. I told her of the journey and the crofter—a normally cheerful male who had been plagued today by a boil at the end of his nose—and his wife. She asked questions and hid her giggles behind her palm, which I found charming.
Slicing another piece of cheese, I pressed it atop the bread and passed it to her. “Eat, Effie,” I urged gently. “We’ll get some meat on yer bones yet.”
She flushed and dropped her gaze to the table but took the offering. “Thank you. Korvak. You are…very kind.”
MyKteerleapt at the sound of my name on her lips, but at the same time, I wished she hadn’t seemed so surprised at the simple nicety.
By this time, the rain was pounding on the thatch, and I had to admit I wasn’t looking forward to wrapping myself in my kilt and huddling outside in it. Especially with the cheery fire Effie had built up in the hearth and the drowsy feeling in my veins from my full stomach.
So, when she turned to me—hands clasped in front of herself and her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat—and blurted, “Why not sleep inside tonight?” I was severely tempted.
Mayhap she saw that, because she took a stuttering step toward me.
“I will do naught you find uncomfortable, Korvak. I will not push myself on you, or offer you my body, if you do not want it. But…” She glanced toward the shuttered windows. “It is nasty out there tonight and the bed is big. I can sleep here by the hearth.”
I slowly stood. “Ye think I dinnae want yer body?”
That hadn’t been the response she was expecting, judging from the way her eyes widened. “I assumed…That first night, you left.” She swallowed, gaze dropping to my chin. “Since then, you have not…”
Time to be honest, I suppose. I took a step closer to her until I could smell the scent of her skin, the underlying scent of her faint arousal. Until I could reach out and touch her.
I reached for her hand, cradling it softly in my larger palm. Her breath caught at the contact, but when I moved her hand to press against my kilt, to cup the thick erection throbbing incessantly against the wool, all that breathwhooshedout of her in surprise.
Her fingers squeezed, although I wasn’t sure if ‘twas instinct or on purpose.
“Effie, I’ve spent every night—every hour—fighting myself to keep from touching ye.”
Slowly her head tilted back until she met my eyes, her hand still cupping my cock.
“Why?” she asked simply. “I am yours.”
Och, nay. My hand lifted, resting against her neck the way it did that first night. I cupped the back of her head, my hand large enough for my thumb to brush against her cheekbone.
The touch was soft, simple. But I could feel her tremble beneath it.
