“Ach, you have marked me, lass,” Natt murmured. “As you surely shall again, inside as well as out. Now sleep, my pretty, filthy beast. I shall keep you safe.”
Safe. And with the sheer, sparkling comfort of that truth radiating bright through her soul, Ella finally closed her eyes, and slept.
Epilogue
Ella Riddell’s housewarming party was supposed to be perfect.
Itwasperfect, she told herself firmly, as she cast an assessing gaze over the crush of people currently filling Ashford Manor’s ballroom. She had incorporated some ideas from the orcs on holding proper festivities, and had arranged for games and dancing and music, and multiple tables piled with shocking amounts of food and drink. There were even a pair of orc drummers in one corner, Bjorr and Othan from Clan Ash-Kai, beating out a steady, cheerful rhythm.
“You’re looking well, Little Miss,” said a familiar voice, and Ella easily turned toward the interruption. It was their elderly neighbour Mr. Kemp, and he was eyeing her with clear curiosity, his gaze lingering on her freckled face, her mismatched earrings, the unmistakable swell of her belly under her clingy, stylish frock. “I was sorry to hear the news about Lord Tovey, but it was great luck that your lawyers found a way to keep you here at the old place, after all.”
“Yes, they were very clever,” Ella said, with a quick smile. “I’m so glad to be staying on here for good. Though Lord Tovey and I remain on cordial terms, the prospect of permanently leaving my home was just too difficult to contemplate.”
Mr. Kemp nodded, fixing Ella with a knowing, keen-eyed look that had again, briefly, flicked down to her swollen waist. “Well, I’m sure you’ll move on,” he said pointedly. “Or perhaps you’ve done so already?”
Even the thought brought a flare of warmth to Ella’s belly, and a flush to her cheeks. She had more than moved on — she and Natt had in fact been married at once, many weeks ago now, in a small, joyous ceremony beneath the trees, with a human priest officiating, and the exchange of new, matching, proper rings. A solid gold band for Natt that set smoothly against his father’s ring, and a beautiful, gold-and-emerald ring for Ella, made new and bright from the Grisk forge.
And afterwards, deep within the mountain, they’d performed a traditional Grisk ceremony, and exchanged far more shocking jewels. Ella sliding a new, even thicker gold band flush against Natt’s groin, while he’d slipped a smooth, heavy gold ring up deep and hidden inside.
Ella was wearing that ring tonight — she could feel its quiet weight there, a constant whispering teasing — and her hand dropped reflexively to her waist, again drawing Mr. Kemp’s eye. “Yes, in fact, I have been seeing someone,” she said belatedly. “Though I’m keeping it rather quiet for now, just until everything’s settled.”
It was all part of the master plan — a plan Ella and Natt had willingly embarked upon these past months, under Grimarr and Jule’s clever guidance. Taking their time introducing Natt into Ella’s old life, especially to avoid any unwanted questions about Alfred, or the inheritance, or the rumbling whispers of war — which had thankfully only remained whispers, so far. And in the meantime, their goal was to consistently use Ella’s plentiful resources and considerable influence not to shock, or demand, or push — but to carefully, methodically support this peace, easing the orcs and humans together.
And tonight’s party was another quiet step forward. Showing Ella’s pregnancy to her neighbours and acquaintances, and introducing orcs to her home in a benign, non-threatening way. While also serving as a true housewarming, a celebration of the legalities all finally being finished, and the proper transfer of Ella’s home to her and Natt’s command, for good.
“And your mother?” Mr. Kemp asked Ella, with another sharp-eyed look. “Is she quite pleased with all these new developments?”
Ella didn’t try to hide her wince, because her mother had quite possibly been the most difficult part of all this. There’d been no way to keep Natt secret from everyone, and Ella’s mother had of course needed to be told, as well as her staff. And while her staff had kept it reasonably quiet so far — Ella had accompanied that shocking information with equally shocking wage increases — her mother had immediately launched into no fewer than three fits of hysterics, and multiple threats of exposure and ruination.
But Ella had managed to stay firm through it all, and had offered to grant her mother a generous allowance, and move her permanently to the new residence of her choice. An offer that her mother had finally, disdainfully accepted, choosing to move halfway across the continent to the realm’s capital, in an arrangement that was far preferable to all.
“Yes, Mother seems quite content in Wolfen,” Ella replied. “She’s far happier in town, I think, hobnobbing with like-minded folks, enjoying fashion and parties. Rather than stuck out here with me next to Orc Mountain.”
Mr. Kemp grimaced, darting a meaningful glance toward Bjorr and Othan in the corner. “Well, she does have a point about that damned mountain,” he countered. “And I must say, it’s an odd choice, on your part, bringingthemto a party.”
But Ella only smiled again, and gave an unladylike shrug of her shoulders. “I am committed to supporting this new peace between men and orcs,” she said. “And Bjorr and Othan are excellent musicians, and very kind as well. Should you like me to introduce you?”
Mr. Kemp’s eyes bugged alarmingly in their sockets, but his curiosity prevailed, and he finally gave a tentative nod. To which Ella promptly grasped his arm, and led him over to where Bjorr and Othan were currently taking a break, Othan already giving a sharp-toothed smile toward a pretty young woman nearby, whose face was rapidly turning a deep, flustered red.
Ella quickly made the introductions, easing the three of them into a creditable conversation about the state of the hunting nearby — until she was rudely interrupted by the sudden arrival of Teppo, Tommi, and Trot. All rushing their furry, wriggling little bodies around her skirts, and joyously barking at once, bearing the unmistakable excitement of dogs with important news to share.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” Ella said to Mr. Kemp, as she scooped Tommi up into her arms. “I’ll be back shortly.”
With that, she followed Teppo and Trot across the bustling ballroom, toward the small side door. It led to the servants’ back hallway, and Ella felt her heartbeat rising as she trailed the dogs down the quiet, dim corridor. Toward the side drawing-room, which currently had its sliding door closed — but the first two dogs had already scratched it open a crack, shoving their wriggly bodies in between, and Tommi leapt out of Ella’s arms to chase after them.
Ella quietly followed, easing herself through the door, and sliding it almost shut behind her. The room was dark, settled deep in shadow, but the dogs had rushed straight across it. Toward where a large, muscular shadow was leaning casually against the wall opposite, next to an open window. Natt.
The dogs were already barking and wriggling around him, demanding at once to be rewarded for their efforts, and Ella smiled as Natt complied and knelt, taking time to rub and scratch each of their heads before quietly ordering them back out the door. To which they reluctantly obeyed, squeezing their little bodies out past Ella again, while Natt slowly stood tall, and met her eyes.
It had been nearly two days apart, with all these damned party-preparations, and the scent of him was already unfurling through the air, the sight of him weakening Ella’s knees. And with a choked, hitching breath, she hurled herself across the room, and straight into his warm, waiting arms.
He grasped her close, swaying her back and forth, and his head was already nuzzling at her neck, his breath drawing in slow, reverent, deep. “Ach,” he murmured, with a heavy sigh, and a light nip of his sharp teeth against her skin. “It has been too long, my lass.”
Ella desperately nodded, her hands finding his face, and dragging him down for a heated, hungry kiss. Soft, sweet, succulent, his long tongue tangling into hers, sending furious sparks of hunger scattering wide beneath her skin.
He was only wearing his kilt, and Ella’s starving hands were already grasping at it, feeling his bulging hardness behind it — but Natt gave a husky laugh, and gripped for both her hands. Raising them up over her head, and drawing her back so he could look at her, the assessing sweep of his eyes barely visible in the dark.
“Look at this,” he murmured, his voice low, appreciative. “My fair, filthy lass plays a fine lady tonight. This is a new frock, ach? Made just to flaunt my son?”
