Page 66 of Halfling
“Getting the rest I needed.”
“But the stitches…”
“Sitting outside peeling potatoes won’t bother them,” he said, thinking of tomorrow’s chores she’d rattled off to him earlier. She was determined to earn their keep through sheer determination, it seemed, and Orek didn’t like the dark, tired rings beneath her eyes.
She’d taken care of them both for days now, but Orek was determined to carry some of that burden.
“I can do that.”
“Yes, and so can I.”
“Have you even ever peeled potatoes?”
“No, but I’ve whittled and I doubt it’s much harder.”
A sly little grin teased her lips, luring his gaze there. “Oh, I don’t know. There’s an art to it.”
“Then you’ll teach me,” he insisted.
She blushed again, looking flustered as she blew a curl out of her face and focused on her meal, but Orek was pleased. Sorcha was warm, fed, and seemed content. Ensuring those things was becoming his sole focus, as was the small smile that still played at her lips.
He’d never forget waking up the other day, bleary and confused, to her tears. He hadn’t known how or why, but they’dguttedhim. She shouldn’t cry.Never.Weak as he’d been, he’d wanted to thrash anything that moved, destroy anything that drew her tears.
But then she’d fallen upon him, her tears searing his skin, and he’d realized she criedfor him.
It was utterly ridiculous. Unbelievable. Unfathomable.
No one had cried for him. Not his mother. Not himself. No one.
Those tears tore at him and touched him and he’d vowed never again. He didn’t know how or why, justnever.This female, who’d come back for him when anyone else would have left him, who cared for him when no one else ever had, was not allowed to cry.
But if she was warm, fed, and content, she’d have no reason for tears.
So that’s what Orek intended to do.Just as a good mate should.
Sorcha couldn’t help stealing another glance at the barn as she feigned stretching her back. The harvesting was done, thank the fates, but now came the laborious collecting and storing. None of it was work she relished—she’d happily take her work at the stables over this any day—but didn’t complain, not when Cara and Anghus had been so lovely.
She and Orek had been at the farm for six days now, and Sorcha had spent most of that time helping around their homestead, trying not to be a burden. Between helping them and checking in on her recovering companion, she was more than ready to fall into her furs each night, but again, she didn’t complain. It was good, honest work, and she was grateful for the couples’ more than generous hospitality.
Her eyes easily found Orek, practiced as they were in searching him out. Today he’d parked himself on a pile of crates and haybales, leaning back against the barn wall. His shirt hung loosely off his broad shoulders, and his hair had been tied back in a hasty knot.
He looked so at ease, so…domestic.
To her amusement, peeling vegetables had indeed been like whittling but easier, and now he’d been set to peeling every vegetable Cara could get in his hands. Cara had exclaimed and praised his technique, and the children often stopped to watch the perfect spirals of peel he managed to make. Most were dutifully deposited in the crate of scraps Cara kept for mulch, but many still disappeared into the grabby hands and hungry mouth of Darrah. The kit was thrilled to have Orek up and about and available to climb all over again.
He still managed to be the kit’s favorite.
He’s my favorite, too.
Sorcha blushed at the errant thought but didn’t look away. There was something mesmerizing and…alluring about the steady, sure way he handled each potato or carrot, his strong, blunt fingers handling the small knife with simple confidence. Her eyes inevitably found their way up to his forearms, watching the tendons there jump and tense and release under his soft green skin.
I’d never have guessed that skin was so soft.But now sheknew—and didn’t know what to do about knowing, just that she had this low thrummingwantto do something.
“He’s just where you left him.”
Sorcha jumped at Cara’s gentle teasing, which only made the woman chuckle.
She turned back to the well where they’d been brushing off the stray wheat and cleaning up for the midday meal.
