Wolves at the Door - Lidiya Foxglove Page 0,78

society. It was basically a prison. I was trying to run away from home when they caught me, and I stumbled upon Orson being held captive in one of the upstairs rooms, with bands of iron around his limbs, slowly poisoning him.

He was in pain, he was sexy, and I knew the fae queen wanted an alliance with witches who were willing to marry faeries. I had the key to saving his life. So I made this bargain. Let it never be said that Daisy Pendleton let a sexy-ass man die on her watch.

“You do need to rest,” I murmured, seeing the burn marks on his wrists when his movements drew his sleeves up higher on his muscular arms. “These look bad…” Dots of blood spotted his shirt in places where the wounds had opened a little, despite our efforts to heal him.

“Bah,” he said. “I really do hate being tortured.”

“Everyone does.”

“But I’ve had worse.”

“So you don’t mind that you’re going to have to share your wife with some pompous lord?” I asked, crossing my arms. “What is this other man going to say about your home and your….cows?” Trying to have a conversation with Orson really drove home the fact that I literally knew nothing about him except that he had a sexy accent, gorgeous eyes, and he was ripped. Hmm. Even contestants on the Bachelor were more informed than me. I didn’t even know if Orson had a house. For all I knew he slept in a pile of hay. “I chose you,” I said. “Not anyone else.”

“You chose me, eh? A perfect stranger?”

“I’d seen enough,” I said, raking him with my eyes.

“I’m used to the arrangement,” he said. “The low faery lords often do swear fealty to a high faery lord. They act as a…” He snapped his fingers, like he’d been searching for a word I might understand. “Sponsor. In court. And our country lands send them food and wool, fools and wood, as they say. My sponsor was Lord Liorgan—that is, Stuart—and now that he’s passed on, I shall need a new one, alas for me. Stuart was a good friend, but he told me his intent to sacrifice himself, so what was I to say?”

“Maybe don’t?” I couldn’t imagine that if my friend told me they intended to sacrifice themselves I’d be like, oh okay. But faeries had a weird sense of honor. “You seem cheerful enough about this other man horning in.” My arms remained crossed. My neck relaxed into a tilt. Some girls have resting bitch face but I think I had developed resting bitch neck. “I get it. Exchanging contacts for goods. Sure. That makes sense. Sharing your wife? Not so much.”

“It’s not uncommon in the magical world. You surely know that; aye, but I know you do. Your friend Charlotte had how many lads flocked around her?”

“It’s common among people who already know each other! That’s why it’s called ‘bond-brothers’ and ‘clans’ and such! Not just letting your future wife be subjected to whatever this is going to be.”

His hand cupped my face. It was dry and warm even though his brow was sweating.

This was the first time he had ever really looked at me. Or vice versa. It was intimate and I realized I wasn’t used to that at all.

“You need rest,” I said. “Let’s get you to the healing baths or whatever.”

“Lass, who do you trust in this world?”

“Trust? What does that have to do with anything?”

“I asked you a question, and it has everything to do with everything. You must learn to trust if you’re to thrive here.”

The reason I’d agreed to this crazy idea was because there was something about Orson that made me like him, and I didn’t feel that way very often. Not at all. I searched his face now. His eyes were greenish, although their color was not quite settled. Having been captured for a while, his wild black hair and beard and eyebrows were all a mess. He had a strong nose. My grandmother would not like me producing kids with a man like this. She liked everything to look refined and clean. But what I liked about Orson was that he looked like he could protect me. He seemed strong enough to scoop me up like a baby. Nah, forget that, he could probably carry me in his hands.

Just thinking about those big arms around me and hopefully a big something inside me and oh damn, I did not have time