Chapter 7
Rychell
Watching Halvard fight was like witnessing an artist at work on a masterpiece. He was the epitome of grace and righteous fury. His massive body, the muscles rolling in his shoulders, arms, and back, shifting this way and that like a perfectly formed machine.
“I’m not afraid, if that’s what you’re thinking back there,” I say.
“I’m very glad. I will always fight to keep you safe.”
“I know. I’m grateful. Thank you so much for risking your life for me.”
“You’re welcome. I will never let anyone harm a single hair on your head.”
The passionate tone of his words sends a thrill through me.
I recall his hands on me, so careful not to squeeze too tightly when he could crush me like a week-old grape if he wanted to.
I imagine what it would feel like to be caressed by those scarred hands, to wrap my arms around his powerful neck and feel a measure of his weight stretched along my body.
My breathing grows erratic. Gritting my teeth, I shove those imaginings to the dark corners of my mind.
I will not risk Nate’s heart with a romance. I refuse.
A small voice in the back of my mind whispers, But what about a few days of passion? Nothing has to be permanent…
No, I can’t allow. Too risky. I like Halvard too much. I’m not sure I could say no after a taste of him.
I swallow and force myself to focus on the road and my plan. Maybe I should tell Halvard and nip this whole thing in the bud.
“When we arrive in Honey Sands, I’ll get us two rooms at the Yarrow Inn.”
“Sounds good.”
“We will visit the market, visit with some traders most likely, and I might have a meeting or two.”
“I will accompany you all over Honey Sands.”
“Perfect. I added one thing to our plans.”
“Whatever you need to do, I’m here for it.”
I swallow and nod. “I saw an ad placed by Master Osric Breakwave. He runs the main spicery in Honey Sands.”
“I’ve heard his name.”
“I haven’t met him, but I’ve purchased spices from his stand in the market there. Today, he ran an ad. He’s hoping to find someone who will marry him and engage in a business relationship for both companionship and trade work. For a partner.”
Halvard shakes his head like a bug is flying around his ear. “I’m sorry. I think I misunderstood you.”
“Osric wants a life partner for companionship and business.”
The orc grimaces. “Like a contract in place of a romance?”
“I guess, yes. Yes, that’s probably a good way to put it.”
His silence is a weight pressing on the air around me. Finally, he sighs, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath. I don’t know why.
“Rychell, you aren’t going to sign up for that, are you?”
“I didn’t ask for advice, Halvard.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him nodding, his eyes stormy.
“No, you didn’t,” he says. “My apologies. If you want a loveless marriage for you and a cold father for your son, I will stay out of it.”
Heat springs to life under my skin, and emotions I can’t quite name boil in my blood. “What gives you the right to be angry about this?”
“I’m not angry,” he says.
“You sound very unhappy.”
He shrugs. “I am disappointed.”
“By what part exactly?” What do I want him to say?
“Never mind. I don’t have any right to feel anything about your decisions. I apologize.”
I blink.
He stares at me. “Rychell?”
I stare right back. “You apologized. Just like that.”
He tilts his head to one side. “I did, yes.”
“I honestly don’t think a male of any kind has ever apologized like that,” I say.
“I’m straight up, no chaser, Rychell. What you see is what you get. Granted, I don’t reveal everything I’m thinking or feeling because that is my business.”
The heat in me shifts into a pleasant warmth, and my stomach is oddly light and full of tickling sensations. What is wrong with me?
“I accept your apology,” I say firmly. I can’t stop staring at his sparkling copper eyes and the ring in his lower lip.
He nods and looks ahead. “We’re almost to the berry flats.”
“Maybe that would be a good place to do a little training and let Tamar catch her breath.”
“Agreed.”
I’m so glad he dropped his argument against my plan with Osric.
I’ve lived many years on my own, and I don’t have the patience to deal with a friend who insists on butting their head into my every decision.
I have my way of doing things. Practical.
Efficient. A close circle that includes Nate and Kaya.
That’s all I need. I have people that are right outside the edges of that inner circle—Tully the witch and Laini the weaver.
I trust them, but I don’t reveal much to them either.
They don’t see the true me, just the parts I wish to show.
When we reach the area locally known as the berry flats, we give Tamar the freedom to graze the low-growing grasses, and I pour her water from my waterskin into the bucket I bring with me on trips.
I join Halvard in the meadow where he is rolling up his sleeves.
The lines and movements of his forearms are mesmerizing. Then I realize he’s been talking.
“…and then you can try the move against me,” he says, looking expectantly at me.
“Oh, sorry. What were you saying?”
His grin belongs on the face of a handsome villain. “Take this.” He hands me a knife with a greengold wood handle.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I made it.” There’s a sweet pride in his tone.
“Really?”
“Aye. I apprenticed with a smithy in my youth.”
“Then why did you end up being a warrior?”
His lips purse, which makes his tusks more prominent. “I was trying to impress a female.”
I laugh.
Halvard runs a hand through his hair and takes another knife from his belt. His is a little larger and has a black handle. “Now, mimic my move here.”
He widens his stance, and I do the same. With smooth, slow movements, he holds the knife in front of him, slightly to the right.
“You’re right-handed, yes?” he asks.
“I am.”
With a nod, he continues. The knife slips through the air as he draws it in a horizontal line.
He flips his hand over and moves it back again, flipping his wrist so he is back in that first position.
I do my best to follow along with my knife, and we do this until I’m actually feeling it in my shoulder.
“Good. Let’s have you practice on me.”
“You sure you’re up for the risk?”
His eyes twinkle. “I can handle you, woman.”
A shiver travels down my body. Something about a male this big talking to me like this has the less practical side of me preening.
He talks to me about where to aim, and I go at him, nervous I’m going to cut him despite his confidence. But he stays back far enough that no contact is made.
“Good. Very good. You move very naturally.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not everyone is naturally graceful like you are. Were you a dancer at some point? Or into some sporting type of hobby?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s nice. I like teaching folks who seem built for defending themselves. It’s easier and more pleasant for all involved.”
“So if I were a clumsy mess, would you still teach me?”
His chuckle is deep. “I would,” he says, locking his gaze on me.
I tug at my corset, suddenly warm.
“Let’s work on another strike. Try this.
” He pivots so we are facing the same direction and slides the knife through the air upward in a diagonal motion.
Flipping his hand at the top of the invisible line, he drags the blade across an imaginary opponent's back across that same line. I try to do the same, but his frown says I’m doing it very wrong.
“Hmm. May I help you?”
He sheathes his knife. I stutter a yes as he slips behind me and wraps his hand around mine so we’re both holding the greengold blade.
His body lightly presses into mine, and he feels even larger this close up.
I’m a good two feet shorter than he is. He moves with me and helps me turn my hand the way he did in his demonstration.
“Relax.” His breath tickles the top of my head.
My heart hammers like I’ve had too much black tea. I attempt to breathe slowly and ease my shoulders away from my ears.
“Good. Very good. You move like water, Rychell. It’s just your wrists being naughty.”
“I have naughty wrists?”
His laugh rumbles from his chest into my body. “Aye. They want to remain straight, and for this, they must cock.”
“They must what?” My face is on fire.
“You must cock your wrist a bit. Like this,” he says.
He uses his other hand to hold my arm until he has me set into position, but I can’t memorize this.
I’m too discombobulated by him saying that word.
Inwardly, I’m shaking my head at myself.
His scent of whisky and soap envelops me, and heat pools low in my belly.
I chew my lip and try to stop breathing completely.
Stepping back, he gently takes the knife from me. “All right. I think we should get back on the road. I don’t want to throw too much at you at once.”
“Yes. Good. Okay.” I take a deep breath and hurry to get Tamar into the harness.
We only stop once more to gather berries for a light meal and help Tamar with a rock stuck in her right front foot. Halvard has me run through the two knife motions while we nibble on the last of the cheese.
He boards the wagon again. “On the way back, I’ll teach you some defensive moves.”
“Thank you.”
I feel off. Like I’ve done something wrong.
But I haven’t. I grit my teeth, annoyed at myself for worrying about what Halvard thinks of my plan to speak with Osric.
I don’t need his approval. I don’t even really know him.
He probably has no idea how messy love can be.
He acts like nothing bothers him, well, aside from my plan for a contract and a marriage.
I don’t want messy. I want peace. I’m not going to let this male, despite his good looks and kind heart, get in the way of my goal.