Page 66 of The Orc Chief's Baker
“You worked it. Should be yours.”
“That isn’t how it works.” Her body felt heavy and cold despite the thick cloak that was still nestled around her. “And Ronhold is toocunning. He conned Rebekia out of her leatherthe day afterhis father dropped dead. Said the debt owed was hisfather’sresponsibility, so he didn’t have to pay her back a cent and she should collect from the folk who’d bought the shoes the leather made. He worked all that out before his father had even beenburied. There was nothing anyone could do, not even Headman Gerald, and Rebekia still struggles to this day.”
Brovdir’s brow furrowed, and she had to work hard not to avert her gaze.
“And now Ronhold has his sights set onme. Not just the bakery. He knows he needs a baker to run it. He’s trying to convince me to marry Tobbis, his worthless, sniveling son. But I willneverdo that.Never.”
The conviction in her tone was punctuated by Brovdir tightening his grip on her hand. His eyes turned dark as his brows came down. He was looking at her so intently she couldn’thelp but squirm. She knew she must be a dreadful sight. Covered in mud, puffy eyes, red cheeks, leaking nose.
“Fades,” she said glumly. “Maybe it would have been better if that sinkhole had swallowed me up.”
She watched the orc’s face crumble, and suddenly, she was in his arms.
“Never say that again.” His voice was harsh next to her ear. His breath hot. “Never.”
Trinia sat stiff and frozen as the huge male wrapped her up in his strength. His warmth. He felt so strong and solid and stable. The complete opposite of how she had felt when the ground had fallen out beneath her and the sinkhole had sucked her up.
It was like he was pulling her right back out of the depths all over again.
“Never, Trinia,” he said again, right into the top of her scalp. Firm and confident and warm, and her body melted into him.
A hard, shuddering breath left her as she rested her cheek on his wide shoulder. Her hands came up to rest against his bare chest. The muscles contracted under her touch. So hard, but his skin was so soft. He smelled wonderful. Like warm woods. A shady walk in summertime. A gentle breeze and sweet, clean water. Familiar and soothing.
“I will do all I can to aid you, Trinia.” His warm words rustled her hair. “I vow it.”
How long had it been since she’d been given a hug? Since she’d felt so comfortable in someone’s embrace?
Not since her mother had died.
And it felt sogood.
Would it feel this good when he bedded her?
A jolt of embarrassment shot through her, and she scrambled out of his embrace.
“I apologize,” he said rapidly. He backed away from her but stayed crouched, like she was an animal he was afraid to spook. “I forgot myself. I will not touch you again.”
“What? No, that’s not...” She’d messed this up. “It wasn’t you. It— The hug was nice. Thank you. I feel better.”
Brovdir’s eyes went huge, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to pull her into his arms again. She wished he would. She wished she could fall into his embrace and close her eyes and forget this night had ever happened.
But she couldn’t.
It was time to ask him. Time to set her plan in motion. She’d be his conquest, and he’d build her a new house. She just had to get the words out. Right now.
“Could I have a bath?”
Blast her worthless bread-based bones back to the Fades who’d made her.
He nodded instantly and got up from the floor. He crossed the room to the large trunk at the edge of the bed and pulled out a towel.
Why couldn’t she get the words out? It wasn’t a big thing. There were at least ten women at Oakwall who played conquest for orcs regularly and many more who had done it once.
Only once.
Because it washard. Growing a child, feeding him at the breast for a season, passing him off to his father to raise... it would beso hard.
But would it be as hard as being homeless? As hard as being forced to live with Yerina again? As hard as being pressured by Ronhold to slave away in a bakery that wasn’thers, day in and day out?
