Page 82 of The Orc's Thief
He grins. “Would you like this? Keeping house, living off the land?”
I pause, unsure whether he’s joking. But Arlon remains silent, watching me intently.
“Maybe,” I say softly. “But wouldn’t you miss your family?”
“I’m not saying we should remain right here.” He steps closer, then takes my hand and lifts it to press a soft kiss to myknuckles. “I’m asking whether you’d be willing to give up a life of adventure to build a home somewhere safe.”
My chest tightens at the idea.A home somewhere safe. It’s been a decade since I last had that, and that safety was an illusion, dependent on my good behavior, as it turned out. To allow myself to dream is dangerous.
But there’s something about Arlon that forces me to be honest.
“I think so. It’s not necessarily the danger I crave.” I clench my hands, trying to find the right words. “I’ve simply found the fastest way to provide for myself. So if you’re asking if I’d give it up if I had another option, then I suppose the answer is yes. I just don’t have many skills that could earn me a living outside of thieving and sneaking.”
Arlon looks as if he might protest, but I put a hand on his chest, tapping it lightly to stop him.
“I’m not exaggerating. My childhood was incredibly sheltered, and all that was expected of me, as the younger daughter of a rich man, was to be pretty, be coy, and land myself a wealthy husband,” I explain. “My governesses didn’t prepare me for life in the real world. They taught me to play the lyre and sing prettily, to dress so my figure was shown off most advantageously. The only useful thing I learned before I left home was dancing.”
Arlon’s dark eyebrows climb. “Dancing?”
“It made me light-footed.” I grin at him. “I’m a much better burglar than I would’ve been without Mr. Rooney’s lessons. I was his star pupil. He’d probably keel over from shame if he knew what I’m using the skills for.”
He laughs, then leans in for a quick kiss, just a brush of his warm lips against mine. “One day, I’ll get you to play the lyre for me.”
He releases me, and I stare after him, surprised. I’d just admitted that I wanted to build a future with him, and he’s already moving on?
But he rummages through his saddlebags and pulls out an envelope that looks a lot like the letters he wrote at the inn this morning. He holds it out, and I take it from him, turning it over in my hands.
“What’s this?”
Arlon hesitates, then admits, “I wrote you a letter. You said you never get any, so I thought…”
My heart trips at his words. “You wrote me a letter?”
“Look, I’ll go wash, and you can read it or toss it, I don’t?—”
I put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Thank you.” My throat feels tight, so I swallow before adding, “I’ll read it now. I’d never—I wouldn’ttossit. It means a lot to me that you remembered.”
It’s not easy for me to say this. I was taught that ladies aren’t meant to speak their minds, and talking about my feelings is even harder. But I instinctively know that this gesture from Arlon is more than significant. Until now, he’s flirted with me and protected me, yes, but this… He might have found the exact path to my heart.
His smile is a little lopsided, as if he’s still unsure of my reaction but relieved, too. “All right, then. I’ll be right back.”
He’s gone, his quiet footsteps fading into the night noises of the forest. I stare down at the letter for a breath, then hurry over to the fireplace. I pry open the wax seal, pull out the folded sheet of paper, and tilt it toward the light.
Dear Tessa,
It feels silly to be writing this when I could walk over to you and tell you all this in person, but you looked so sad when you told me you never get any letters that I had to change that,immediately. You’ve gone to talk to Mistress Maeve, so I don’t have a lot of time, but I’ll write you as many letters as you want in the future.
I’ve been imagining what our future might look like, and I don’t know the answer yet. I’m not sure what you want, which makes it difficult to picture the life we could have together.
But let me tell you what I have so far: Us, waking up together every morning. Good conversation over shared meals. Me, making a fool of myself just to see you crack a smile and roll your eyes. You, trying to pretend you’re not ogling my ass as you walk behind me.
It sounds like a good future to me. Would you agree?
All my love,
Arlon
The letter trembles in my hands. I’m torn between laughter and tears, my insides twisting strangely. I wonder what Arlon’s parents must be like, to have raised a man so comfortable speaking about his feelings. I’ve never met anyone like him, and I wonder once again if the fates have made a mistake matching us together.
