The last of the tension in Ella’s body seemed to swirl away at once, and she gave him a wry, relieved grin. “You’re sure? You wouldn’t even want it to help purchase your lamps?”
But Natt only shook his head, sparing not even a glance to where Alfred was sputtering again beyond them. “It is yours,” he said. “Should you wish to trade for lamps with it, I shall be glad — but should you not, I shall also be content.”
Well. And looking at Natt’s eyes, so bare and beautiful on hers, it was like the last, missing truth between them had finally settled into place. And without moving her gaze from his, Ella tilted her head toward John, still standing only a short distance away.
“John, when you asked about the filing of my father’s will,” she said, “you meant to ask whether it had properly become law. Didn’t you?”
“I did,” replied John’s even voice. “And as you confirmed, it has.”
“And you also said, previously,” Ella continued, her eyes still held to Natt’s increasingly uncertain gaze, “that under the terms of our new Treaty, any laws currently in existence that referred to men now refer to orcs, also.”
“I did,” John said again, with perhaps the faintest trace of impatience. “And as Nattfarr is now an orc of standing — our filing tomorrow with the humans shall call him a duke — you are thus free to proceed as you wish.”
Natt was fully frowning, now, his eyebrows furrowed close together, but Ella only nodded, gathering her courage. Her heartbeat was galloping in her chest, her body shivery and trembling, but her eyes were steady, true on Natt’s. She was Ella, of Clan Grisk, and she would choose to trust, one more time. She would speak her heart.
“Nattfarr, of Clan Grisk, Speaker of Five Clans,” she said, each word a thudding, echoing truth. “Will you marry me?”
37
The stillness descended with powerful, deafening force. Radiating out from Ella to swallow the world in its strength, in the truths playing one by one across Natt’s staring eyes.
Shock. Astonishment. Disbelief. Slowly giving way to understanding, and then appreciation, and then to a rising, deepening awe.
Tojoy.
And in a jolting, forceful movement, Natt’s clawed hands grasped for both of Ella’s, holding them tight. While those black orc eyes searched her, found her, looked deep into her soul.
“Ach, my Ella, of Clan Grisk,” he said, the words sure, fierce, true. “I will.”
The stillness seemed to unfurl for one last instant, almost like approval, like a blessing, and Ella felt herself give him a slow, true smile — and then the quiet around them snapped away all at once. Replaced with shouts and cheers of approval, calls of luck and congratulations, and a bitter curse from Alfred that Ella didn’t even blink at.
And when she hurled herself into Natt’s strong arms, they were waiting. Grasping her painfully close as he spun with her, his head again buried deep into her neck, his eyes dripping unmistakable wetness against her skin.
“Ach, my sweet, lovely lass,” he choked. “You honour me. I have never dreamed of such a gift.”
Ella was weeping too, and perhaps laughing at the same time, her face bent deep into his neck, too. And gods he smelled so good, he was about to be herhusband, and did that truly mean she could keep everything, the house, the money, his jewels, their forest —
Ella wanted to run, suddenly, or dance, or tackle Natt straight into the swamp and take her filthy pleasure with him — but she was in his arms, warm, safe, it was perfect, perfect. Inhaling that damned intoxicating smell of him, nuzzling her face deeper into his skin, her tongue tasting, his head tilting, her teeth suddenly ready, bared, desperately hungry —
And then, to Ella’s pure and utter shock, she bit down, hard, sinking her sharp teeth deep into Natt’s perfect silken skin. Flooding her mouth with his delicious salty sweetness, the very essence of him, her orc, her mate, soon to be herhusband, and she should stop and why couldn’t she stop and what in Akva’s name was she doing, what the hell was Natt thinking, what would hesay—
She finally shoved herself away, her breaths desperately heaving, her face prickling and flustered and hot. Her eyes wildly, shamefully seeking Natt’s, even as she felt her traitorous tongue brazenly come out to lick, slow, at her bloody lips.
But Natt, Natt was only looking at Ella with a rising, trampling warmth, the hunger and the appreciation flashing deep and forceful across his half-lidded eyes. “Look at you, my hungry lass,” he said, his low voice all liquid melting heat. “With my blood all over your sweet maiden mouth. Such a filthy, clever little beast, who learns all my wishes without even a word from my tongue.”
Oh. So he’d —wantedthat. Ella was gulping for air, the relief feeling like a physical force, while Natt gave a low, rolling laugh, his shameless hand come down to brush at her nipple-ring through her dress. “But should you do this again,” he murmured, promised, “I shall tear off these fool clothes at once, and fuck you where we stand.”
A shiver of delicious heat swirled down Ella’s back at the too-tempting thought, but when she shot a belated glance around, they still had quite a sizeable audience. Olarr and the Duke of Preia’s man had seemed to vanish, as well as John, but the rest of Alfred’s men were all still here, lurking uneasily about.
And, of course, there was still Alfred himself. Who was standing only a few steps away, and gaping at Ella and Natt with a shocked, glittering, vehement rage in his eyes.
Natt growled again, the sound rumbling deep in his chest — and in reply, without warning, Alfred hurled himself toward them. His toothless mouth shouting, his fists wildly swinging — and this time, Natt’s swift, powerful punch landed Alfred straight in the chest. Sending him wheezing and staggering backwards, his arms flailing, until he finally collapsed back onto the earth, and lay still.
“Somebody get this fool out of here before he gets himself killed,” said a voice, Jule’s voice, clipped and annoyed. “Byrne, is it? Why don’t you toddle off and get a horse to strap him to, and we’ll have a band escort you all back to Tlaxca. And if this titled ass ever expresses a wish to return — either to here or Ella’s lands — please do us all a favour, and remind him that he’ll lose more than a few teeth next time.”
Byrne gave a pathetic-looking nod and obediently shuffled off, and after a jerk of Grimarr’s head, Baldr and Drafli went prowling close behind him. And Natt began leading Ella away too, his arm heavy and warm around her shoulder — but Ella had stopped, briefly, to look down at Alfred’s prone form beneath them. Alfred, her former betrothed, the man who’d betrayed her, and given them such grief.
He was still conscious, if seemingly deprived of breath, his eyes glaring balefully between Ella and Natt — but suddenly Ella felt only contempt, and maybe even a distant, detached pity. She could do this. She was.
