Chapter 9

Sorcha

Was it possible to fall in love in only a fortnight? I mulled over the question days after our first stop in the protected hollow. Once more, Drakolt held me on his lap as we rode, but by now I felt comfortable and cozy in his arms. I didn't mind the circuitous route we'd taken…it had allowed us time to get to know one another.

In the days since the first time he'd put his mouth on me and fulfilled my Harlot's Guide fantasies, I had come to see what a remarkable male Drakolt of the Clan Bladesedge really was. He was strong, aye, and scary…but not to me. He cared for me, he took care of me, in a way no one else ever had.

In my Father's keep, I was just another daughter, one more girl to be used to make alliances. No one had seen me as an individual with my own interests and dreams.

Drakolt did.

He spent time asking me questions, listening to my answers. Debating my opinions and admitting when I was right. He watched me, he learned from me, and used that knowledge to ensure I was happy.

That was remarkable.

Aye, ‘twas easy enough to fall in love with a male who did that, I supposed, even if ‘twas an orc.

But Drakolt does not speak of love .

Nay, he spoke of Mating . The way he described it, ‘twas more than marriage. More than love. ‘Twas a certainty felt in his blood and his heart and his gut.

And I could admit that I'd felt that call, that connection to him as well. Even before I touched him, something had tugged me toward him.

Was that the Mate bond he had spoken of? The bond he said would be finalized when he spilled inside me for the first time, breeding me…in front of everyone?

A fortnight ago, such a shame would have been bearable.

I might have closed my eyes and blocked out the sounds and endured the embarrassment of everyone watching him fook me…

But now?

Now that I had become intimately familiar with his body, his cock, his tongue? Now that I worried I had fallen in love with him?

I wasn't certain I could share him like that.

This connection we shared—whether ‘twas called love or the Mate bond—was special. And I didn't know if I could bear to share it with his clan.

"Only a few more miles." Drakolt was relaxed, the horse well-rested and as well-fed as I was. Another example of Drakolt's caring. "I look forward to introducing you to our people."

But how would he do that? By throwing me down and taking me in the village square?

Mayhap he felt me stiffen, because his fingertips stroked down my arm. "'Twill be aright, Sorcha," he murmured. "I vowed."

"I…" I swallowed. How to admit what bothered me? "Will your grandmother be there?"

He had told me all about the old woman, how her prophecies guided the clan for three generations.

"Aye!" There was pride in his voice. "She will have seen our arrival and will be there to greet us. And we'll be in time for the feast."

"And when will you…" I swallowed again. "When will we…? "

His arm tightened around me. "After the feast, little Mate." His voice was calm, comforting. "Gelma will have a big bonfire lit against the darkness, and you will become mine then."

With everyone watching.

I still couldn't decide if that was exciting…or humiliating.

How could I love a male who would humiliate me?

How could he expect me to help lead a clan who had seen me bred ?

"The others…have you seen…" Oh Lord, how to ask? "When the other Mated pairs came together, did you witness…?"

Drakolt made a little noise of understanding and sighed as he pulled me flush against him, so he could twine his fingers through mine. "Nay lass," he finally admitted. "My future doesnae depend on if and when their Mating produces kits. But their future, the future of the Bladesedge clan, depends on ye nurturing the next chieftain."

When he said it like that, I felt even more pressure.

"And Gelma says tonight is the night for that?"

The pad of his thumb made small circles on the back of my hand. "She has never been wrong about the timing of such things."

I thought of my courses and how I'd finished the day before we'd left on our interrupted journey to the MacDonald holding. If the math my mother had whispered to me was correct, then Gelma was right. This was the time of my cycle for me to become pregnant.

The correct time for my body to accept his seed and form his son. Our son.

The thought made me breathless and excited all at once. I had always known my purpose in this life was to bear my husband strong sons, but to be told ‘twould definitely happen tonight… My hand—still wrapped in his—flattened against my belly as he pressed it there. A son.

My son.

And I will admit, after a sennight of Drakolt denying me his seed as we worked our way through each position outlined in A Harlot's Guide , I was becoming desperate.

But no matter how many times he explained his people's traditions or expectations, I could not help but feel humiliated at the thought of what was to come.

"Sorcha." His hand untwined from mine and rose to cup my breast. "'Twill be fine."

He pinched my nipple through the bodice of the gown I'd been wearing for a fortnight. I had tried to wash it as well as possible during our leisurely stops to explore each other's bodies, but I was ready for a different gown. Now, however, he held me the way he'd held me that first afternoon…the way he touched my body as if he claimed it, claimed me , never failed to make me warm.

Today was no exception. As he rolled my nipple through his fingers, I grew breathless, began to squirm against his hard thighs.

Drakolt chuckled lightly. "That's my lass. When we arrive, I want everyone to ken yer mine . I alone can touch ye, make ye feel like this."

I closed my eyes on a whimper. "Aye, Drakolt." But he would allow everyone to watch us make love?

"Here we are, Sorcha. Home."

I opened my eyes and caught my breath at the picturesque village spread out in the valley below. The small community was bustling and prosperous, the huts well-maintained and the warriors' sparring ground protected. There was neither castle nor keep or even a fine manor home, but the village looked like a fine place to belong.

A cry went up as we were spotted, and Drakolt lifted his hand from my breast just long enough to wave. Then he claimed my nipple once more, playing with it almost absent-mindedly as the horse picked its way down the slope .

Then a familiar red head burst from one of the huts, called my name, and began running toward us.

Roxanna. She was safe .