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He finished his gulp of my ale, which I no longer wanted.
“Oh, she won’t die. She’ll come crawling back here before the first snow, which should be any day now.”
My eyes narrowed. “And ye’d accept her back in town?”
“I’ll accept her in my bed.” He winked lewdly. “She’s still a fine-looking woman, despite bearing two brats.”
“You would offer her protection?”
To my surprise, he laughed, a too-jovial sound, and I knew he was attempting to manipulate me.
“I would offer her my name, orc.”
He…wanted to marry her?
I knew that human marriage was nothing like orcish Mating. Humans paired off for legal reasons and protection, mostly. As always, when I thought about the differences between a union fated by the gods versus an alliance created for clan benefit, I pushed aside the reminder of what my younger brother Severn has given up for the good of the clan.
The point was, a male like John might want to tup Cataline, but why marry her?
“You think her a whore,” I reminded him, half-fascinated by this turn, half-disgusted, the ale souring further in my stomach.
“She carries another male’s bairn.”
“Aye, and I’ll even allow her to birth it and give it to the church, if it lives.”
Gods below. Gods below. I couldn’t breathe. I felt as if I’d taken a blow to the chest. My fingers spread across the wood, my claws extending as I struggled to control my Kteer’s response to such casual cruelty.
A child was sacred, a gift to be celebrated…and this male spoke so casually of disposing of it?
“And her son?” I managed to choke. “Ewan?”
He sipped from the ale again, his bushy brows raising over the lip of the mug.
“You recall the brat’s name? Aye, he’s the key to all of this, eh? The reason I need to marry her.”
I blinked, and just like that, my understanding of humans slid sideways, and I was in unfamiliar territory again. My sister had Mated a human male. Mayhap Matthias would be able to explain this mystery to me.
Why would John need to marry her? Because of a child he called a brat?
“Aye,” the male declared with a firm nod, finally lowering the empty mug. “When she has a taste of winter snows in that miserable croft, she’ll come crawling back to me, even if ‘tis just to save her son. She’ll open her legs to feed the brat, I know it.”
Of course she would. The fact that she lived in a world so despicable that she would feel it necessary is what turned my stomach now. My claws dug into the wood beneath my palms and my Kteer rumbled threateningly.
“But ye dinnae just want to fook her?”
John chuckled darkly as he wiped the mug with the dirty rag.
“I need her to legally become mine, so the brat does as well. Once he’s recognized as my son, she can die for all I care.”
This time, the growl did rip from my throat, and the other male glanced up in surprise, which slid quickly into a tolerant chuckle.
“Don’t fret, orc, I’ll not kill her. I remember you were fond of her, all those months ago, eh? Well, I assumed she was a good fuck then, and she’ll be an even better fuck now that she’s desperate.”
He turned away to slide the mug back onto the shelf.
“Aye, she’ll please me in bed—and out of bed—if she knows what’s good for her. And I’ll let her help raise her son.”
By all that was holy…
