Page 110 of The Orc Chief's Baker
“Teaching?” She laced her fingers with his and began through the woods, back to the path.
“He’s teaching old magic,” Brovdir said with a shrug. “Know nothing of it, but they enjoy it and that’s important, yes?”
“I think so.” She gave his hand a squeeze. She glanced up at the burly, scarred orc and her heart skipped a beat. He looked so confident. So strong and assured.
He looked like an orc chief.
Who would have thought something as simple as watching this male step into his role would make her light up like a candle in fog? She was just soproudof him.
“To the hall,” Brovdir said. She turned to look at him just as a large, blue and white bird swooped out of the trees and landed right on top of his head. It flapped its wings so hard he had to squint, but he didn’t look surprised.
She chuckled. “Do birds always land on your head?”
His grin softened his features. “It’s a message. From Oakwall.”
Her heart was hammering as he reached up and plucked a piece of cream-colored paper out of the bird’s taloned grasp.
“Headman Gerald has confirmed the meeting time,” he said.
Her stomach clenched with anxiety and anticipation. “Really? So, tomorrow morning, then?”
“Yes.”
She wrung her hands. What new changes would tomorrow bring? What upheaval would come next? She could hardly fathom it. Her stomach tied itself in knots all over again.
The bird on top of Brovdir’s head began to flap and spin around, distracting her in an instant. It tussled up his hair every which way, pecking and fluffing and spinning until his head was one big mat.
A mat that the bird promptly plunked itself down in.
Trinia slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing as Brovdir scowled and waved his hand to get the bird to fly away. The silly thingpeckedat him and stayed put.
Trinia lost her composure then. She burst into laughter and had to clutch her stomach.
The sudden noise, thankfully, startled the bird into taking flight, but what remained was a bird nest made from Brovdir’s hair that gave him the ridiculous wild look of someone who’d been out in a windstorm. Chunks of hair were jutting out every which way, some even straight up. There were even a few feathers.
Tears flooded her eyes. She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. She’dneverlaughed so hard.
“I’m sorry,” She managed, wiping her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to laugh.”
But when she looked at Brovdir, his expression was so soft, so gentle, that all her laughter died away, and in an instant, the fluttering in her gut took her breath all over again.
“L-let me fix you up,” she stammered, looking away from the tenderness of his gaze.
“No need.” His voice was low and warm.
“Of course there is,” she insisted with a gulp. “Sit down somewhere.”
There was afwumpsound, and she spun around to find that he’d instantly gone to his knees.
“I-I didn’t mean on theground.” He looked up at her with huge puppy dog eyes.
Blast it all! He was just soobedient. It made her blood heat up, her thighs clench, and her body go all squirmy with longing. But there was something else too. Something warm and tender. Something she wanted to lean into despite the fact that this massive, battle-scarred orc was nearly a stranger.
“Thank you. I can reach easily now.” Being on his knees would make it easier for her to reach his head. She went around to the back of him, mostly to hide her blush. She combed her fingers through the strands, and it was surprisingly soft and clean and smelled slightly of lavender.
It took little time to get the knots out, and then she slicked it back. Brovdir sat stock-still through the process and made not a single sound.
She came back around to examine her handiwork.
