He didn’t look back at Amari.
With the privy door closed behind him, he went to the shelf where a pitcher of water and a basin waited. He splashed water on his face, trying to get himself under control.
He’d convinced her heart, he was certain.
Now he just had to convince his own.
Amari plopped downon the end of the bed, and stared at the privy door.
Had she misread Orval’s interest?
She flushed. Maybe. She wasn’t untouched, after all. She’d had a baby and she wasn’t a virgin any longer. Her body wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination; it had changed, from pregnancy and birth. She pulled her robe closer around her.
On the other hand…for one brief, glorious moment, he’d returned her kisses. And she’d felt him responding to her.
Amari bit her lip as confusion overwhelmed her. Maybe he was right, maybe it was just the stress of the moment, the tensions of the last few months. Maybe she—
The door opened and he stepped out, looking somehow both sheepish and determined.
Warmth flooded through her, settled in her chest, and bloomed. This wasn’t a spur of the moment thought, it wasn’t an impulse.
Her hearth stood before her.
“We should get some sleep.” Orval didn’t look at her as he limped to his side of the bed. “We need to talk to the elders tomorrow and hopefully Xydell will finally wake up. It would be good if she could tell us more about these people.”
He was babbling nervously as he pulled back the bedding and climbed in. He stretched out on his back, staring at the ceiling. “Did the babes feed well?”
“Yes,” Amari stood and pulled back the bedding on her side. “How is your leg?”
“Not too bad tonight,” he said quietly as she lay down and covered herself.
Amari curled on her side to face him, staring at his profile. She took a breath, determined to speak.
“No,” Orval forestalled her. “We are not going to discuss this. The marcusi may appear tomorrow to get you and the babes to safety. I am not going to let you make a mistake out of gratitude. I know that you should choose your Hearth Fathers for their ability to defend the Hearth and—”
He blithered on, but Amari had stopped listening. “HearthFathers?” she said with a frown, interrupting his declarations. “You mean, more than one Hearth Father?” Had he said that before?
“Yes, of course,” Orval said. “I know your people take multiple fathers into the Hearth, and I read the standards that you should follow. We would be fooling ourselves if we…”
He kept talking, but the joy in her breast drowned out his words. She propped her head up with her hand, and looked at him, staring at the ceiling, rattling on.
She moved her foot, tucking her toes under his calf. Orval gave her a startled look.
“My toes are cold,” she said, keeping her face straight. “Do you mind?”
“Er, no, it’s fine.” Orval said and continued on with a list of why he wasn’t suitable as a Hearth Father.
She rubbed her foot up and down his leg, and tucked her other foot under as well.
Orval darted a glance at her, but kept on until he finally wound down.
“What book did you read?” she asked. “About Hearth Fathers?”
“Oh, well,” Orval relaxed, as he always did when discussing books. “It wasUyole: A Fine and Noble Landby Verismet. I also had a copy ofBirth Rituals of Foreign LandsandRare Matriarchal Cultures, which went into detail about the bracelets and their significance.” He sucked in a breath as she rubbed his skin with her toes. “Are your feet warm yet?”
“No,” she said, and kept rubbing. “All this time,” she mused aloud, “all this time, you thought this? You cared for us, and preserved us, and all this time you thought this about yourself? That you are not worthy?”
Orval blinked at her, then returned his gaze to the ceiling. “Of course,” he said. “It has always been so, you know.”
