Chapter 20
Rychell
Wind blasts the wagon, and Halvard calls out to calm Tamar. Despite his efforts and mine, the mare rises up and whinnies in fear. Thunder booms across the darkening sky. A bolt of bright pink lightning splits the clouds.
Magical storms are more dangerous than regular bad weather. The magic that rains down will destroy the wagon and make Tamar, Halvard, and me very sick.
Halvard jumps from the driver’s bench and jogs up to Tamar’s head. He takes her bridle in one hand and runs the other over her neck. He turns to face me.
“There’s a cave past the bend!” he says above the snap of more lightning and the drum of another bout of thunder.
I’m so glad he’s here.
On my knees, I try not to fall as Halvard jogs with Tamar. The wagon bounces as I sloppily cover our purchased goods and our packs with the tarp. I hook each corner of the tarp on the wagon’s four metal claws. I’m glad I spent the extra coin to get the tarp with the metal rings at each corner.
Tamar pulls the cart into the turn. A rocky hill slopes up toward the ridge that overlooks the forest. Wind-tossed, red-leafed maples cluster around a dark opening in the gray stone.
Halvard leads Tamar in that direction. Magic begins to pour from the churning sky.
Purple, gold, green, and pink bits of chaotic magic sparkle their way toward us.
“Get your head down!” Halvard calls to me.
I crouch low, and Tamar tugs the wagon into the cave, barely missing the torrent of magic. Halvard is murmuring to the mare and leading her farther into the cave. I look up to see the cave’s fangs hanging down, formations from the water dripping over centuries.
Halvard stops Tamar and smooths a palm down her neck. “That’s good now, love.” He pulls something from his pocket and feeds it to her.
I have to give it to the orc. He’s annoying, but he’s prepared.
I crawl out of the wagon and help him unhitch Tamar so she can move freely.
The space is big enough for two more wagons, and there’s a dry area beyond the rocky pathway.
Tamar turns and watches the storm in the small circle of the cave’s opening.
The thunder echoes. She dances, her hooves clicking on the stone.
Her back flank is smooth and soft, and I stroke her slowly, humming like I always do when grooming her.
She finally stops dancing and takes a deep and blowing breath.
Halvard has removed his sword and he is leaning it against the cave wall.
He steps up beside me and crosses his arms. The flash of lightning blinks across his eyes.
“Rychell, you’re a good person,” he says over the noise of the rain, the magic, and the thunder. “A kind one. I’m sorry if I said, well, I’m sorry I acted like I did. Only you know what is best for you and your son. I should keep my opinions to myself.”
My heart melts at the sincerity in his voice. “I have to admit, he is rather dull.”
Halvard faces me, one side of his lips lifting, and his beard poking out a little. It’s very cute.
“You do, eh?” he asks.
A strange lightness fills me, and I can’t fight a smile.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m not blind to the way he acts.
He’s steady. He’ll agree to a contract and likely keep it.
I don’t think I’m wrong about that, and the peace that our agreement would create in my home and in his. And in Nate’s life. But…”
“But?”
“There is a place for personality,” I say, “even in an organized life.”
“I should think so.”
Chewing my lip, I watch the storm’s riot of colors outside the cave.
I don’t know what to say or what I want Halvard to say, but the moment feels like a lute strung too tightly.
I can guess what Fiorella would say. I don’t like her, but I do hope she found a safe place to ride out the storm.
The thought of the word ride has my face blazing again.
What if I let go and explored the idea of being with Halvard?
Would that satisfy my curiosity enough to then let it go?
And then the request is out of my mouth before I can think about it.
“Show me, Halvard.”
My gaze is on the cave’s entrance, but I can imagine the changing emotions flickering across his handsome face.
“Show you what, Rychell?” The velvet in his voice tells me he’s giving me the look that melts my bones and reminds me that I’ve been alone for a very long time.
I clear my throat. “If you can handle the likely outcome of things not working out, maybe you could show me what I’ll be giving up with this contract.” My voice cracks.
“You mean what you’re not going to experience in a sham of a marriage to Osric.”
“Exactly.”
I turn to face him, my cheeks burning. I’m glad the light is low. His eyes are soft and hot as he holds out a hand. The air seems to vibrate between us.
If I take his hand, something will ignite. But maybe it would be better to get this out of our systems. One night, far from home and real life, could relieve us both from this tension. After, we could go back to being friends, and he will accept the fact that I’m going to wed Osric.
“I won’t touch you unless you clearly ask,” Halvard says quietly, his words barely audible under the sound of the wind and rain.
“And if you do, then all you need to say is Stop if you change your mind at any point. Or tell me to shut my hole right now, that it was a foolish thing to suggest, and we can start a little fire in here and make some food instead.”
His scent curls up my nose—warm whiskey and the citrusy soap he must use on his clothing. Heat emanates from his large form, and I imagine what it would feel like to wrap myself in that warmth.
“Yes,” I say, my voice surprisingly even despite the butterflies in my stomach.
“Yes?” His eyes have blown wide, and he’s gaping like a landed fish.
A chuckle bubbles from me. “Yes to you touching me. But you have to take this slowly. I’ve never done this.”
“Done what?”
I glare, feeling flushed. “You know what.”
“You’ve never lain with anyone?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“But—”
“I never wanted to,” I say.
“And you do now. With me?”
“Why are you acting shocked? You are the one who said you could scent me.”
“No, I know you’re physically attracted, but you’re saying I’m the only one you’ve ever been attracted to.”
I laugh. “No, but you’re the only one I’ve been curious enough about to consider having sex.”
“This is a lot to live up to,” he says gruffly.
My heart leaps and turns over. I’m lightheaded.
“It was your idea originally, orc.”
He laughs, removes his belt and his long shirt.
The shape of him is a wonder—so much muscle and broad expanses of forest-green skin.
A light gathering of coppery hair sits over his heart.
He’s striking. My fingers ache to touch him and to learn the lines of his body.
He lifts his hand in invitation again, and this time, I grab his fingers and smile.
“Indeed it was,” he says, and he tugs me against him.