Page 49 of The Orc's Thief
“Aye.” I grin, already knowing she’ll hate me a little for what I’m about to say next. “And that was one of yours, so be careful, little thief.”
Tessa opens her mouth to protest, then swallows her angry words. I brace myself for silence, or worse, a question too uncomfortable to answer, but the sound of rushing water cuts through the trees ahead.
“We’re coming up on a stream,” I tell her, nudging Pip into a trot. “Thank the gods.”
She catches up quickly. “It’s my turn to ask?—”
“I know.” I throw her a smile over my shoulder. “But I need to wash first. Then we’ll talk.”
Chapter
Eighteen
TESSA
Arlon leads us along the stream, his gelding following the larger horse meekly through the thick growth on the banks. We left the road a few hundred feet back and plunged into the dense forest, following the sound of the water.
I focus on Arlon’s broad back and duck beneath a low-hanging branch that nearly unseats me, though my thoughts whirl with worry. Why did he ask about his scent? And is he truly serious about washing? It’s cold enough that my fingers are red and aching, and I’m chilled to the bone despite my warm jacket. I already know the stream beside us is icy, but he looked almost relieved when he first heard it.
He dismounts at a bend where the water deepens into a green pool fed by a small waterfall. A broad boulder juts from the streambed, forcing the current to tumble over it in a thick spray that mists the surrounding rocks. Moss blankets the area in soft green, echoing the dark tones of the fir trees overhead.
“It’s beautiful here,” I murmur, my gaze following the water’s path.
“Aye.”
Arlon’s voice is slightly raspy, and when I glance over, I find him watching me, not the stream. Heat surges through my chest, warming me from the inside, and I turn quickly away, startled by the sensation.
What is it about this man that unravels me like this? It’s probably his looks. I’ve seen my share of handsome men—nobles with coin to burn, musicians, crooks, thieves—but none of them held my attention the way he does.
No, it’s more than that. It’s his skill. As I watch him lead the horses to drink at the edge of the pool, I turn back to the trees before he can catch me staring. Everything he does is efficient, practiced. He moves like a hunter, never wasting energy trying to impress. He just…does things. Last night, he found us shelter from the storm. This morning, he had breakfast ready without expecting anything in return.
I turn to thank him and squeak, startled, because Arlon has stripped off his jacket and is tugging his shirt over his head, revealing the broad sweep of muscle across his back.
He spins at the sound, eyes wide. “Tessa? What’s the matter?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, though not before catching a glimpse of his sculpted chest and abdomen, his arms thick with muscle. “You-you’re undressing.”
“Aye. I’ve no wish to swim in my clothes,” he says, calm as ever. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
I shuffle awkwardly, turning to stare at the treetops. “You couldn’t wait to reach an inn tonight? They’re bound to have a washroom. Aprivateone.”
He exhales slowly. “What could be more private than a deserted forest? And no. I’m used to washing every morning. I dislike skipping it.”
But I’m here.I want to scold him for being inconsiderate—but is he, really? If this is what he’s used to, who am I to berate him for it?
“At our palace in Bellhaven, we have an underground bathing chamber.” There’s a soft splashing sound, then he continues, “Hot water springs up right from the ground and fills all these small pools that have been carved into the rock. The best place in the world.”
I imagine a cavern filled with steam and unlimited amounts of hot water. “That does sound lovely.”
“It is. But I don’t mind the cold.” He’s speaking louder now to be heard over the rushing water. “Just wait a moment, I’ll be right out again.”
Now that Arlon is washing, though, I realize I haven’t really washed since leaving Ultrup two days ago. I splashed my face and rinsed my hands in the stream yesterday, but the last full-body wash I afforded myself was…Ugh. The afternoon before I broke into the Ravens’ mansion. I lift my arm, sniff experimentally—and cringe. Two days on the road, combined with nervous sweat and sleeping outdoors, make for an unpleasant combination of smells, awful even to my human nose. To think that Arlon has been sniffing me for the past day with his much better senses is too embarrassing to dwell on.
“Damn it.”
I stomp over to Clover’s side and dig through my saddlebags, pulling out a clean shirt, a pair of linen underwear, and the bar of soap I stole from Arlon. When I glance toward the stream, I catch sight of him standing beneath the waterfall, letting the water pour over him in steady sheets. I quickly look away, but not before glimpsing the firm lines of his buttocks and the powerful muscles in his thighs, braced to hold steady under the rushing current.
Then I tiptoe away, around the first clump of bushes, and down to the next pool, smaller than the one Arlon took over but still large enough to dunk myself in.
