Page 123 of Halfling
Sorcha swallowed the immediate retort because she knew what her mother truly said. Ciaran hadn’t really fit in with Aoife’s life when they met—and her father was a human man, not a halfling. It hadn’t mattered for her parents, though, because they were in love, and for a while that had been enough. But their lives, their goals, differed, and while they made it work and often seemed content in their independence, it meant a life often lived apart.
For a long time, it was just Sorcha and Aoife. Sorcha had been the one to see her mother through Connor, Niall, Maeve, and Blaire’s births. Ciaran was present only at his eldest and youngest children’s births, the latter only because he’d been recovering from a wound.
When their stables nearly fell to ruin after a groom stole all their coin and made off in the night, it was Sorcha who dried her mother’s tears and helped train the horses until they could afford to pay their grooms again. She still took on the duties of training the most difficult horses, freeing the grooms and stable hands to keep business flowing.
When blight hit their fields and orchards, it was Sorcha and Aoife who made ends meet until the next harvest came in. When her siblings were very young, it was Sorcha who cared for them so Aoife could sleep. When they had nightmares, it was into Sorcha’s bed they climbed for comfort. When Blaire’s birth had nearly killed her and Aoife too, it was Sorcha and Sofie who had nursed her mother through it all, spending sleepless nights with little Blaire as Aoife fought for her life.
So when her mother looked up at her with eyes gone serious, eyes that were the same shade and shape as her own, Sorcha understood.
She’d vowed to herself not to take a partner who wouldn’t be a partner. Perhaps her parents’ arrangement worked for them sometimes, and she knew they still loved each other deeply, but that wasn’t what she wanted for her own story.
“Orek is devoted, mama. He’s a good man. He wants to build a life and…belong.”
Aoife made a considering hum.
“Well, well, speaking of your handsome green man,” said Sofie as she peered out the kitchen window.
Sorcha looked over her mother’s shoulder to see Orek emerging with her youngest siblings from the forest, laden down with baskets and Darrah sitting atop his head.
She couldn’t contain her smile. The sight of him helped drain away some of the frustration of the conversation, and she turned back to embrace her mother.
“We’ll figure it out, mama.”
“All right, sweetheart.”
Unable to wait anymore, Sorcha said quick goodbyes and hurried out the kitchen door to meet the returning group.
Her siblings were laughing and chatting loudly, swinging baskets and books in their hands. Leaves stuck out of Calum and Keeley’s hair, and Darrah was licking his paws, giving Sorcha a good idea where they’d been.
“Sorcha!” cried Keeley when she saw her coming.
She braced for impact when Keeley ran to her, throwing her little arms around Sorcha’s thighs.
“Been to the berry bushes, I see.” She picked a few leaves out of Keeley’s golden curls.
“Uh-huh! We got the last of ’em!” she declared with a purple smile.
Calum and Blaire blushed sheepishly but couldn’t suppress their smiles.
When Keeley finally let her go, Sorcha stepped up to her handsome halfling, admiring him in the bright autumn morning. He smelled fresh and faintly sweet as she slipped her arms around his middle to hug him tight.
A warm kiss pressed into her hair. “Good morning, mate,” he rumbled.
“Good morning, my love,” she said, and got on her tiptoes to kiss him in the yard, for all to see. “Let’s put these away, and then I want to show youeverything.”
Orek found Sorcha’s home to be exactly as she’d described it. He may not have understood the scale, but the colors, the smells, the environment was all just as she’d had him imagining. She took him through the stables, introducing him to different horses and grooms and stable hands. The humans looked on with surprise, but the horses were amenable—especially since he was generous with handfuls of sweet hay and carrots.
She showed him the yard, the forges, the grazing fields, and the gardens. They spent the afternoon strolling through the apple orchards and following the brook that wended through it. She pointed out a rock that marked the border with the next property over, then put her finger to her lips and drew him across it to show him her favorite place to find geodes.
The day was a feast for the senses, and sometimes Orek felt overfull—yet he wouldn’t change a thing. The younglings were excitable and chatty, and he didn’t have to talk much at all to learn a great deal from them about the family and workings of the stables. He enjoyed their company. And the day had only gotten better when his mate appeared.
Dressed in her own clothes, well rested and smiling wide, she was a vision with her glossy curls and glittering eyes. He still couldn’t quite believe she’d kissed him, claimed him right there in the yard in front of everyone. The younglings had giggled and blushed, and Sorcha had led him away by the hand. Spending the afternoon with her settled his nerves, and he was content to let her show him anything she wanted.
The happiness suffusing her was palpable, and Orek loved it.
They didn’t find their way back to the house until late in the day, the sun disappearing behind the trees and lanterns being lit across the yard and stables to light the way of evening chores. They entered a house already brimming with lively chatter and delicious smells.
Orek was introduced to an older female named Aunt Sofie, who shook his hand with an appreciative glint in her eye. “I know you’ll treat my niece right,” she whispered to him, though the threat was apparent.
