Page 67 of The Orc Chief's Baker
Brovdir waved her into the bathroom, and she followed, desperate for a distraction to her rounding thoughts. The room was small but clean and the bath was huge. It was lit by threetorches and every fixture was made of wood, giving it a dim yet cozy feel.
“Thank you,” she murmured as he placed the towel on the edge of the sink. Her hand grazed down her soaked and muddy bodice. “Do you have any clothes I could borrow?”
His eyes grew wide for a half moment and then he went back to the trunk. He was so tall he had to duck through the doorway.
Her mouth went a little dry as she considered what it might be like to lie with such a huge male. She’d been with men before, but they’d been human. And small humans at that. Their attention had always been quick and efficient.
Being with this particular orc would be different.
He placed a clean, white shirt on top of the towel and turned to regard her with a tip of his head.
“I think that’s all I—oh, actually, can you pull that for me? I’m a bit too short.” She pointed to the trapdoor above the tub. She knew from Savili’s descriptions that it let heated water in from where it collected at the top of the tree. Savili’s had a string attached, though, so she could easily pull to start it without Iytier’s help.
Brovdir crossed the room and pulled down the slender door. A thin wooden pipe popped out from inside and a cascade of steaming water fell into the tub. It warmed the room up in an instant, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you.” She turned to the orc, who was edging toward the door.
“Take your time.” And with that, he turned on his heel and shut the bathroom door behind him.
And then she was alone with her thoughts—again.
Chapter
Eighteen
BROVDIR
He wasreallyout of his depth here.
He went over to the sink at the end of the storage cabinets near the woodstove, grabbing a thin towel from a wall hook as he went. He cleaned himself up with practiced efficiency, and changed into a clean pair of slacks, but every rustle and splash from behind the bathroom door drew his attention.
When would she come out? She was going to be dressed inhisshirt. The vision of her dressed in it, her curves gently highlighted by the thin layers of cotton fabric, the short length that would give generous glimpses of her round thighs...
The lush vanilla smell of her would cover the shirt. He may never wash it again.
Fades help him. Was that her sigh just now?
He shook his head in frustration. He’d had plenty of women stay the night with him before. Almost twenty. He had a set procedure for every step. If they cowered, he’d sit down and keep still. If they threatened, he’d show his hands and stay out of striking distance. If they cried, he’d turn away to give themprivacy. If they were quiet, he’d count himself lucky and go about his business until it was time to take them back to their home.
He didn’t know what to do withthiswoman. A woman who wasn’t afraid in the least. A woman who was used to the presence of orcs.
A woman who sought his comfort when she was in tears instead of scrambling for escape.
He was a wretch for wishing she would cry again just so he’d have an excuse to hold her. Next time, he wouldn’t hold back. He’d take her in his arms and cradle her to his chest and... and...
He wanted her so badly. The imprint in his chest was blooming, and he wasn’t sure he could stop it.
With a deep sigh and a rub to the center of his chest where the thrumming was beating a soothing rhythm, Brovdir went to his bed. It sat at the far corner of the room and was the newest thing in here, since he’d had to replace it before his first night. The mattress was plush, the blankets were warm, and the pillows were clean.
Though sometimes, when night crept in and his body sunk down into the wool-stuffed fabric, he missed being out in the woods with the laughter of his brethren a few feet away. Escape from his shelter was as quick as a slice of his claw. The sounds and smells around him were clear and unmuted by thick wood walls.
He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was, in fact, perfectly safe here. Humans weren’t trying to slaughter him in his sleep. Blighted animals weren’t raging in the darkness beyond the windows. Deadly, spiraling wind storms weren’t appearing from nowhere and swallowing up everything in their path.
But the sinkholes were.
Blast! He’d gotten so caught up with Trinia he’d forgotten Sythcol’s order to call the warriors and conjurers to him. Brovdir went to his desk at the corner of the room and pulled up the top. The wooden slats rolled to the back. He’d marveled for a long time at the craftsmanship when he’d first seen it, especially when he’d been told magic wasn’t at play.
Humans had made this wooden marvel.
