The woman eagerly obliged, and soon she was comfortably seated at Gwyn’s table, while Gwyn carefully crushed a bowl of fresh silphium seeds, and then poured the juice into a little vial. “You’ll need to drink one of these each moon to prevent pregnancy,” she told the woman, as she handed over the vial, and accepted her coins in exchange. “If you’re consistent, it has a very high efficacy rate. However, to increase your chances, you need to have your man pull out as well. No ‘mistakes’ or ‘just this once’ nonsense, all right? We women need to watch ourselves with men, and be smarter than they are. No exceptions.”
She felt herself wince at that last bit, but luckily the woman didn’t seem to notice. And after thanking Gwyn effusively, she went cheerfully on her way, leaving Gwyn alone and unsettled again, and frowning darkly at the door. At that crossbow-bolt, and that damned flimsy wooden slide, which that damned devious orc could open at his leisure.
No mistakes. No exceptions.No trouble at all…
Gwyn’s mouth barked out a noise much like a growl, and she finally fumbled for her silphium seeds, and made up another dose. Rather larger than her usual monthly amount, and rather early, too — but she couldnotafford to take any chances with this. She was making her own way. Getting rid of the rubbish, for good.
She swallowed down the bitter liquid with a grimace, and then forced herself to focus on her day’s tasks. There were plants to water and attend to, seeds to harvest and prepare, stems and leaves to dry or crush or boil or steep. Not to mention the outdoor garden, too, and after several hours’ productive work under the hot sun, she even set up an impromptu crossbow-target beside her rose-bush, and launched into some shooting practice, as well.
It should have helped. It should have thrust away all remaining thoughts of the orc, and Roy, and Gwyn’s combined failures over the course of this past day. It should have made her far too tired to keep glancing over her shoulder, her heartbeat erratically skipping, while the occasional shudder quivered down her spine.
The orc wouldn’t dare come back. Not after last night. Would he?
But once the sky had finally darkened to blackness, and Gwyn had washed, changed, eaten, and lit her reading lamp, it felt like an army of aphids was crawling under her skin, searching for a way out. Making her jump at tiny noises, her gaze constantly glancing toward the door, her clammy, trembly hands incessantly reaching to stroke the loaded crossbow. And she was both exhausted, and wide awake, and it was late, and what the hell was he waiting for, and perhaps she should go harvest her candlewood again, and —
“Whereareyou, orc,” she groaned aloud, digging her palms into her eyes. “Just get itoverwith.”
Nothing happened, of course, and finally Gwyn lost the battle with her flailing brain, and jerked toward her candlewood. Her hands eagerly reaching for their cruel spines, the relief already ringing through her thoughts —
When behind her, something rapped on the door. Loud, quick, decisive.
Someone. Was —here.
Gwyn’s heart surged in her chest, her legs staggering straight toward the door. And without calling out, without even thinking, she shoved aside the flimsy slide, and flung the door wide open.
It was the orc.
5
The orc was here. Again. Standing tall and casual outside Gwyn’s door, his eyes cool, his grey-green bare shoulder leaning against the doorframe.
And in his clawed hand, this time, he held a single, pure white rose. It was a variety Gwyn had never before seen, and she felt her frantic eyes briefly narrowing on it — where had he foundthisone?! — before darting back to his face. His harsh, angular, grey-green face, with its raised black brows, its ever-quirking mouth.
And as Gwyn gaped at him, her own mouth fallen entirely slack, his smile slightly broadened, showing more of those deadly gleaming teeth. “You no shoot me today, woman?” he asked, his low voice sparking something quick and warm in her belly. “Or you wish me to wait here, whilst you ready your bow?”
His amused eyes had glanced meaningfully behind her, toward where her crossbow was — Gwyn’s hands clenched to fists — still lying uselessly on the table. And gods above, why hadn’t she at least remembered to grab it before opening the door, what if it had been a wholehordeof orcs come to loot and pillage and —
“No, you great arse,” Gwyn loudly snapped, over that deeply alarming thought. “Now get in, before someone sees you.”
She jerked her head toward the room behind her, even as her rioting rational brain loudly pointed out that the likelihood of the orc being seen here was surely almost nonexistent — but the orc’s broad, sudden grin instantly set her thoughts scattering again, her heart wildly roaring in her chest.
“Ach, as you wish,” he drawled, his voice and eyes brimming with mockery — but before Gwyn could protest that, or change her mind, he pushed off the doorframe, and strode straight toward her. His big hand reaching for herface, goodgods— but she didn’t move, didn’t even try to argue. Only felt her lashes fluttering, her breath catching, as those warm fingers spread wide on her cheek, tilting her face up.
His brows had lifted, almost as if asking a silent question — and curse her, but Gwyn answered with an exhale, harsh and shuddering. Still not moving, not thinking, not even as the orc slowly bent his head, and…kissedher.
It was a rush of heat, a shouting storm of shock and sensation. A tilting, swirling unreality, with an orc’s soft, heated lips teasing gentle against hers, his clawed hand sinking into her hair. While his musky green scent flooded the air between them, and his long, fluid, muscled body eased closer, fitting tall and effortless against hers…
Gwyn felt herself gasp into his mouth, her hand somehow clutching against the warm, silken skin of his arm. And in return he actually chuckled, his body sliding even closer, as a slick, slipperytonguebrushed brief and hungry against her lips —
She was kissing an orc. She was…kissinganorc?!
Gwyn hurled herself backwards, far,fartoo late. Reeling away from his warmth, his lean strength, his damned devious tongue. And oh, she could stilltastehim, could still feel the silk of his skin under her fingers, could still —
She could still seeoutside. Could see the night’s darkness beyond him, through the propped-open door. And what thehell, she’d been kissing an orc with the door thrown wide open?! And good gods, she was going tomurderthis bastard, and clearly she should have eagerly welcomed the rioting mob, as well.
The orc was still smirking, as though flaunting his indisputable victory over her — and when Gwyn belatedly lurched to shut the door, she was disconcerted to discover he’d already somehow closed it. Even though his eyes hadn’t once left hers, and his hand smoothly reached up to tuck the rose behind her ear.
Gwyn briefly braced herself, anticipating the certain prickling of thorns — but there was no scraping, no pain. Only the orc stepping slightly backwards, his warm hand again tilting her chin up, while his glinting eyes flicked down, and up, and down again.
