Page 44 of Plucked By the Orc

“On that score,” Duncan relented. “I choose to speak no more of the matter. If you wish to discuss Miss Gabbert you should do her the courtesy of requesting her presence rather than trying to ascertain something without her.”

“Oh no, brother.” Albion restored his usual cheerful demeanor and took a last swig of the human whiskey he customarily had as an aperitif. “It is you whose feelings I was trying to ascertain. And I feel quite satisfied that I have my answer, even if you didn’t do me the favor of stating it outright.”

Chapter Fifteen

When Iris knocked on the library door later that night, with a distinct rap-a-tap-tap, Duncan felt almost as though he had summoned her. If he were given to such notions, at any rate.

He had been enjoying his pipe while absorbed in putting the final touches on the section ofThe Curious Customs of the Human Tonthat focused on Iris Gabbert’s metamorphosis. Of course, he never referred to Iris by her name, for he never named any of the humans in his book. It wouldn’t be fair. Describing her attributes and transformation was undoubtedly sufficient and the honorable thing to do at that. Just as he had relayed to his brother.

It was a fine piece if he did say so himself. Even if he chose not to dwell on Albion’s concerns regarding Iris’s future.

Even if he wasn’t sufficiently conveying her charms.

This section still lacked a certain something, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on precisely what. He failed to properlydescribe the vibrant presence that was Miss Iris Gabbert. That much he understood.

Then again, no writer, no matter their talents, could achieve that feat. Her singular essence had to be experienced to be believed.

“Come in,” he bellowed, removing the pipe and placing it on its mahogany stand to cool. And then, realizing that he had been louder than he intended, he rubbed his hands together nervously. Some of the ink from his pot had blotted the fine linen ruffles at his wrists, making him even more nervous. He took pride in his appearance and now must look like a blasted fool.

Iris peeked inside, long strands of beautiful chestnut hair framing her face.

“A girl’s got ears, your grace. No need to shout.”

She was smiling as she spoke, and Duncan found himself returning the smile. “What can I do for you, Miss Gabbert?”

“I’ve brought you a surprise, I have.”

Iris was in a fashionable state of what the English called “undress;” even Duncan grasped the humor in their misuse of that particular word. In this case, it meant that Iris had presented herself in a thin, informal, white cotton gown with a matching night jacket over it. The jacket had claret-colored ribbons zig-zagging over the cuffs and collar and a deeply cut neckline that did no disservice to Iris’s irresistiblefigure, the curves of which were now impossible for Duncan to ignore.

His body responded to her presence with its own mind, a low growl barely detectable but undeniably there, and the retraction of his claws. Like human men, Duncan also experienced stiffness in his nether regions, which he prayed she could not see.

What the devil had this woman done to him? She reminded him of the beguiling sirens that were said to have come from lands south of the Channel, and all the way through England andup to the Hidden Realm, to coax and seduce a man to an early death. Duncan had never put a store in such stories, of course, but it occurred to him that if these sirens were more than mere figments of some ancient storyteller’s imagination, Iris Gabbert just might count among their number.

“Don’t you want to see? Nothing in there that will bite ‘ya, I promise.”

She held a small crystal dish before her, offering it as Duncan imagined Eve would her apple in the creation story the English liked to recount.

A white cotton tea towel had been placed over the dish to hide its contents.He was reaching to peek when Iris draped the bowl with the tea towel once more and playfully slapped his hand away.

“It will cost you, it will,” she said.

Duncan reminded himself that she didn’t mean it would actually cost him coin. Her amber eyes were twinkling with some mischief. At the very thought, a growl emanated from the base of his throat.

After taking a moment to regain his senses, he asked, “What is the nature of this cost?”

“Information,” she said cheekily. “I’ve something on my mind.”

“Very well.” He placed his hands on his hips, trying to match the saucy tone in her voice. Though no matter how much he knew about human language and diction, he would never master that particular inflection. “Proceed.”

“Relations between men and women in the Hidden Realm,” Iris said. “You told me they were freer than they are in England.”

“That is an understatement but essentially correct.”

“I wonder.” Iris bit her lip in her enthralling way. “How Orcan women prevent falling pregnant. Until they are ready to have a child, that is.”

Duncan’s eyes widened at the candid inquiry, not because it bothered him but from surprise. He couldn’t imagine even the most broad-minded of human gentlemen doing anything but running away from Iris at top speed.

“An excellent question,” he said. “Seeing as how many human women suffer and die due to multiple births.”

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