Page 4 of When the Merchant Met the Orc

His green lips pull into a grin, and one of his eyebrows lifts slightly. “I understand that. I was up until two this morning with Cyrus’s poker crowd.”

I shake my head and smile. “He’s incorrigible.”

“That should be his name, really.”

I laugh. “Do you want some tea?”

Nate is still chanting “Eight!” but thankfully, he is doing it at a whisper level as he marches back and forth between us.

“I’d love some if it’s no trouble,” Halvard says.

I pad back into the kitchen, fill the kettle, and light the stove. Nate’s and Halvard’s voices carry through the house.

“Have you stayed with Mistress Kaya before?” Halvard is asking Nate.

“No, but she likes me, so it’s okay. Did you hear that her oldest cat can talk now?”

“It’s wild!”

I smile at Halvard’s sweet enthusiasm.

“I want a talking cat,” Nate says. “I hope he talks to me while I’m there. We don’t have any pets because we travel too much. But sometimes Mistress Laini lets Spark come over.”

“Has the dragonfox ever set anything on fire here?”

“Just a linen napkin, but it was old, so it wasn’t so bad.”

I chuckle and bring the tea tray out. We sip quietly while Nate disappears into the kitchen, and from the sound of it, he starts eating his apple again.

“He chews as loud as a horse,” I whisper.

“I am sure I’m no better.”

“Is it the tusks?”

His eyebrows lift, and my face goes hot. I shouldn’t have asked that.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “That was rude. I’m too curious for decent company.”

“Ah, I don’t mind questions. Aye, the tusks do tend to make me a bit more animal in some ways.”

The sparkle in his eye tells me he isn’t only talking about his meals and how he takes them. I swallow and take another sip of tea. It’s a bergamot and cinnamon black tea blend, and it’s divine. The scent calms me.

Halvard sips from his cup and hums in appreciation. “As I was saying the other day, I’d be happy to escort you on your trip to the coast. Cyrus and Kaya told me you were still planning on going.”

It’s kind of him, but he helps run a pub. He’s not a professional guard or a knight. But maybe the sheer bulk of him would keep most thieves, and as Nate would call themruffians, at bay.

“All right,” I say. “I insist on paying you, though.”

“You don’t have to. I’m happy to help you, Rychell.”

He says my name like it’s something special, which it’s really not. Rychells are a copper a dozen in the town where I was born, in the human realms. Halvard studies my face with a soft look and then meets my gaze.

“I appreciate that, but I’d rather keep this professional and pay you properly.”

He looks away, and his mouth lifts at one side like he’s fighting a laugh. I narrow my eyes at him, willing him to be serious and not to tease me. He probably can tell I’m physically attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? He’s gorgeous. It means nothing.

With one more glance my way, he nods, and I’m not sure whether reluctance shows in his mannerisms or if I’m imagining that.