Chapter 3 #2
Lillian held the poultice against my eye, which meant my movement dragged her against my chest, and she slapped her free hand over my mouth.
The shock of that movement, that touch, stifled my roar more than anything else could.
She draped against me, one small, strong hand pressed against my ruined eye…one palm against my lips.
I don’t think either of us breathed.
Slowly, slowly, the burn in my eye socket turned to blessed numbness. And still we hovered there in tableau.
Lillian was touching me.
I told myself she’d only done so to keep me from yelling and alerting the guard. But my Kteer didn’t listen; it was too focused on the feel of her, her body aligned with mine, leaning against me like this, her big blue eyes so close to mine…she was touching me.
Finally, I felt her inhale slowly, and I—unable to resist—brushed my tongue against her palm. She flinched but didn’t pull away. Did she think I would make some noise if she did?
Here and now, I would sooner lose an arm than do aught which would cause the guard to come investigate why the laird’s daughter was draped across his prize prisoner.
So this time, when my tongue touched her palm, I took my time. I stroked her skin softly, tasting her sweat and calluses, wondering what sort of life she must lead as a lady of the Tarbert Keep.
And the whole time, Lillian watched me, her breaths shallow.
“Kragorn…” she breathed.
And deep in my chest, my Kteer howled with glee.
Had it only been yesterday I’d thought myself dead?
Now I knew her taste, knew the sound of my name on her tongue, and I had a reason to live.
This time I swiped my tongue—the width of it—along her palm, and she jerked her hand away. I wished I could grab it, pull it back, pull her fingers into my mouth and stroke them with my tongue. I wished I could show her how sensitive an orc’s tusks were, and what we could do with them.
But she just stood there, peering down at me, eyes confused.
“Are my sisters honored Mates?” she asked again, and my brow rose, impressed by her tenacity.
The least I could do was give her the reassurance she sought.
“Drakolt leads the Bladesedge clan, and although we are ancestral enemies, I have heard naught to believe he is anything other than an honorable orc.”
Lillian stroked the cloth against my eye once more, then pushed herself upright. She had to press against my injuries to do it, but I wouldn’t have minded even if I hadn’t gone numb; I would hold her up if she asked for it, even with my arms chained.
“My older sister Sorcha is Mated to Drakolt.”
I nodded, knowing full well that’s why I’d led my men to battle against her father. “Then she is his partner.”
“Not his prisoner?”
Why would she think that?
“I told you, Mating is not marriage. ‘Tis something more. A kenning, Lillian, that this is the female ye will cleave to for the rest of yer life, and spend those years making her happy. Mating honors the female, no’ holds her prisoner as yer human marriage does.”
In the moment before she turned back to her tray and those hated poultices, I saw tears spring to those bright blue eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she bent to smear more of the goo on another cloth.
And there was naught I could say in response, because she was the one caring for me.
When she turned back to me, her attention on the wound in my side—her eyes still watery but not shedding tears—I took a deep breath and braced myself for the pain. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and began to worry it, then glanced at me.
“This will hurt.”
“So did the rest.”
“You must not yell. The guard will ask questions.”
And she was disobeying orders? I had enough forethought to nod once, quickly, to let her know I understood. But the mystery of her actions distracted me when she slapped the poultice against my side, so I was able to swallow down my roar of pain.
Mayhap for the best.
Lillian twisted, and before I understood what was happening, had her arms around my torso.
Nay, strike that; I still didn’t understand what she was doing, not before she began to wriggle—a movement my cock and Kteer appreciated very much—and I realized she was pulling a bandage around me.
She was bandaging me.
I took a deep breath, suddenly struck with an emotion I couldn’t name, and she froze. Her head tipped back, those wide eyes staring up at me, her arms around my chest…my filthy skin, stinking of months of captivity, pressed against her chin…
Mine.
The thought slammed into me before I could react, and I shook my head to clear it. Nay, Lillian was a lady of Tarbert Keep, my enemy’s daughter.
And she is yers.
My Kteer crowed, and I shuddered.
“Kragorn?” she whispered, still wiggling to get the bandage around me. “Are you in pain?”
“Aye, lass,” I muttered hoarsely, my eyes following her movements. “Constantly.”
She didn’t need to know ‘twas my cock I spoke of.
Now she nodded as she sat back on her heels, her attention focused on tying the bandage to hold the poultice in place.
“’Twill begin to numb soon. I only brought enough today for your three most concerning wounds, but the mustard seed heals quickly.”
“So do orcs.”
Did one corner of her lips twitch wryly? I hoped so.
“My father wants you able to stand by Hogamany, which is in three days.”
Midwinter was passed, then? I truly had lost track of the days.
“I think you will be able by then,” Lillian announced, rolling to her feet.
When she stood, her head was above mine. Not by much, which meant I would tower over her once I was strong enough to push myself to my full height. But for now, I had to tip my head back to see her, especially with the cloth tied around my head and ruined eye.
Her hand moved, her fingertips resting on my shoulder. A benediction, mayhap?
“Thank you, Lillian,” I rasped. “For the food. For yer care.”
Her nod was jerky, and she pulled her fingers away as if she could feel the burn from the poultices working.
“I—I did it for my father.”
Ah.
A timely reminder. It was necessary, too, I growled at my Kteer. Lillian wasn’t mine; she had no interest in me as a male. She was merely here to heal me because her father, my enemy, had given her orders.
I needed to remember this.
No matter how my cock might react to her, no matter how my chest might expand at the thought of her touch… Lillian was not mine.
I was naught. I was chained in her father’s dungeon, sitting in my own filth and horror, half-frozen, and mad with fever. The only way she might look at me was with pity, not hope, not desire.
Lillian was not mine.
But as she packed away her crock and bandages and the empty teapot, my eyes followed her motions hungrily. As the burn from the poultice faded, the chill of the stone walls seeped back into my muscles, tightening them, and I knew I was in for another long night.
She straightened, glancing about the cell as if she might have forgotten something. The metal tray she’d left yesterday, the one intended to reflect sunlight across my skin, was still in place, but the heavy clouds spoke of snow, not sun, so ‘twas useless today.
I saw the moment her gaze landed on the flea-infested blanket I’d used for the last months, saw the way she glanced at me and back again. When she crossed to it, her nose wrinkled as she scooped it up. Understandable; it likely smelled even worse than I did.
But she stepped in front of me, shook it out…and wrapped it around my shoulders. The movement put her breasts near my mouth, and I sucked in a deep breath, desperate to catch her scent on my tongue. When she straightened, I was almost giddy.
Mayhap ‘twas still the fever’s fault.
“There,” she said with soft satisfaction, pulling the blanket tight over my chest and tying the corners together. “’Tis not much, but mayhap you will not freeze before I return tomorrow.”
She’d wrapped me in a blanket. Meager though ‘twas, this was the most kindness any human had ever shown me. Her precious father hadn’t told her to do this, I’d wager.
So my voice was thick when I whispered, “Thank ye, again.”
Her fingertips lingered on the knot as she met my gaze.
“Thank you for explaining about Sorcha and Roxanna.”
Then, as if she’d said something she shouldn’t have, Lillian yanked herself away, stumbled toward her tray with the empty bowls on it. She scooped it up and limped as quick as she could toward the cell door.
As the metal gate swung closed behind her and she called for the guard to lock it, I flexed the muscles in my arms. The one wrapped in the poultice was still blessedly numb, but the guard wouldn’t see much of my bandage with it covered in this blanket.
A blanket she’d given to me to stay warm. As if the memory of her touch wouldn’t be enough.
I settled back on my heels, tipped my head back, and exhaled. Lillian wasn’t mine, but the full moon was in a few days, and Tarbert had something planned for me.
For the first time, I had a chance at escape.
And a reason, as well.
Thank ye, Lillian.