Claire Delacroix (10 page)

“My territories,” he said. He glanced away and his lips thinned dangerously. “My armies, my gold, my wives. All that is mine did he covet, for why else would he have invaded this territory as soon as my sire died?”

“I suspected as much but did not know for certain,” Thierry said hastily. Abaqa leisurely looked him over, then snorted again.

“Indeed, you should understand the fact of the matter,” he said. His voice dropped to a threateningly low timbre as his gaze locked with Thierry’s. “‘Tis not healthy for a man to crave what is mine.”

“Who succeeds Berke?” Thierry dared to ask.

Abaqa smiled. “Why am I not surprised that you, of all men, would ask that question?” he mused. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair and regarded Thierry for a long moment before shaking his head, as if to clear it. “I know not. No clear successor is there.”

“Then that is why they left the field,” Nogai guessed. Abaqa flicked a glance to Thierry’s companion.

“I would expect as much,” he said quietly. “Undoubtedly, they have returned north to burn their Khan in a fitting manner. For the time being, it would seem there is no threat to me.” Abaqa’s gaze meandered back to Thierry and he raised one brow thoughtfully. “At least, not from
outside
the tribe,” he added.

With that, the khan snapped his fingers and summoned a drink for himself, effectively dismissing the two warriors from his company.

* * *

An enraged roar woke Kira abruptly from her slumber.

Her father had discovered her crime. She cringed in anticipation of the lash’s bite, and when none came, dared to take a breath. Kira opened her eyes with difficulty to find herself huddled on the damp ground, her wrists still bound to the tent pole, and recollection came flooding back.

She blinked to clear her foggy vision and the roar erupted again. Kira cringed at the proximity of the sound and her gaze flew across the tent.

The man in white stood before her warrior, his manner calm as he gestured toward her. The warrior was markedly less calm. Kira could virtually feel the heat of the anger emanating from him. His eyes glittered and his jaw was set. His companion with the goatee lounged in the opening to the outside. Kira met his gaze and he winked broadly. Her gaze skittered uncertainly back to the warrior.

What had angered him? And what price would his fury bear? Only too similar was this to her father’s frequent tempers and she could only fear for the worst. Would he beat her? Rape her? No help was her addled mind in this matter, for it seemed to Kira that she could barely put two thoughts in order. Curse the white one and his mixture.

Should she surrender the pearl or was it already too late to save her own hide? She struggled against her bonds, able to think of naught but escape. To her dismay, her body did not readily follow her bidding and her clumsy movements were futile.

Her warrior barked a short question and the man in white shrugged. The warrior looked fit to explode when he jabbed one finger at the other man, his tight words evidently a threat of some kind. The white-robed man drew himself up taller at the apparent insult, but the warrior had already turned away.

To Kira’s chagrin, the warrior turned his attention on her. She scurried backward but could not move far because of her bindings. Incapable was she of hiding her fear in this state, with her body fighting every move and the warrior’s anger clearly beyond anything her father had ever let her see.

He squatted purposefully beside Kira. She cringed and his scowl deepened with displeasure as he untied her wrists. Fearing his anger was directed at her, Kira instinctively shrank away, only to have him glance to her in surprise. He touched the chafe marks on her skin with one gentle fingertip. She shivered, not knowing what to expect, certainly not expecting to look up and find him watching her with what might have been concern.

Not here. Not from this man. He cared only that she live long enough to return his property. Kira’s heart skittered unsteadily, then lurched when he folded one heavy hand around hers. Naught could this mean, she told herself wildly, even as that increasingly familiar tingle of awareness launched over her flesh. The warrior snarled something at the man in white. That man shrugged indifference and the warrior’s lips thinned.

He grasped Kira’s elbows when she might have pulled away again, confusion puckering his brow when she gasped in response. He stood slowly and virtually lifted her to her feet, arching one brow in silent query. Kira nodded hastily, wanting no more than to be free of his unsettling touch.

When he released his grip on her, no one was more surprised than Kira that her knees gave out beneath her. She gave a little cry as she crumpled toward the ground again and heard the white one’s knowing chuckle.

The warrior swore and scooped her up before she collapsed. The tent danced around them and Kira closed her eyes weakly, despising the single tear that crept out from between her lashes.

Weakness. How she hated weakness. Especially in herself.

The warrior said something and the white one answered with apparent reluctance. Kira squeezed her eyes tightly as the warrior carried her outside, the motion of his step making her stomach roll uncertainly. She leaned closer to his warmth despite herself and found his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Its echo was curiously reassuring and she dared to release the breath she had been holding and relax ever so slightly against him.

Just for a moment. Until she could be strong again.

She was safe, Kira thought, feeling the fog in her mind advancing to claim her once again. Nonsense, she corrected sharply, knowing the first thought was naught but whimsy.

Curiously, Kira’s conviction in that fact did naught to halt her fingers from spreading across his chest. Well it seemed she would grip the beat of the warrior’s heart within her very hand as all faded to naught.

W
hen Kira awakened in the familiarity of the warrior’s tent, ‘twas nearly dark. She rolled over and found him watching her silently. Kira’s breath caught in her throat. Their gazes locked and he moved not a muscle, as though he was waiting for her to collect her thoughts.

Disconcerting it had been, to say the least, to find herself relieved to see the stern warrior in the white tent. Kira could make little sense of her response. Certainly the man had done little to endear himself to her, though she had to admit that he had not been as cruel as she had anticipated.

At least, not as yet. ‘Twas a particularly heinous tactic he had in mind, she surmised, for evidently he meant to gain her trust before abusing her.

Although she was forced to concede that she could scarcely have imagined that her maidenhead would be intact after an entire night in the Mongol camp.

He rose abruptly to his feet and closed the distance between them. When he bent over her, Kira refused to show her trepidation. Her mind was clearer for the sleep and she boldly held his gaze.

Had she not known better, she might have thought that he smothered a smile at that.

He urged Kira to her feet and her guts writhed. She gasped and he seemed to understand, for he hastened her immediately outside and toward the latrine pits.

* * *

Well it seemed that matters had changed. Though Kira knew that she had never been so thoroughly voided in her life as she had been in this camp, the warrior demanded naught of her when she had finished at the pits. To her astonishment he led her purposefully in the opposite direction from that of his tent. His silence seemed particularly ominous and Kira could not help but speculate whether she had been grateful too soon.

Mayhap the time of her reckoning had come.

He led her away from the camp. Kira hoped they made but a roundabout return, but when they stepped outside a cluster of tents, her heart began to pound. His pace continued relentlessly into the open fields on the far side of the camp and Kira knew she would not stride away from this place. Naught but the grasses weaving in the wind was here and her heart almost ceased to beat when he stopped abruptly.

Was it here he intended to take her? Or did he mean to retrieve the gem with his knife? The grass rippled around them and the uncanny silence of the plain filled Kira’s ears. Indeed, none would hear her scream in these remote pastures. Her heart took off at a gallop at the realization, for ‘twas quickly followed by the certainty that there was naught she could do about it. He was larger than her, stronger, undoubtedly more cruel. She could fight, but the battle would not last long.

Well it seemed that she could not draw enough air into her lungs and Kira feared she might faint. She felt the utter stillness of her companion and dreaded his intent before he raised his fingers to his lips and let out a long, low whistle.

Then he stood perfectly still, waiting it seemed, his grip relentless on her arm. Kira scanned the horizon in confusion, fancying she heard a faint sound stirring above the silence. The warrior squeezed her arm once and lifted a heavy finger to point into the middle distance, never uttering a word. Kira suddenly saw the dark shapes approaching.

What was this? Beasts he needed for his diabolical plan? She could not even imagine what wickedness he planned to wreak upon her.

Four horses became discernible as they drew closer, their manes blowing loose, their hoofbeats becoming more and more distinct. Kira glanced up and fancied that the warrior’s features softened as he watched the creatures run. She could not be sure and looked back to the beasts in confusion.

They ran directly toward them. Kira was certain they meant to run right over them. There was a death she would expect to be painful, though it made no sense that the man beside her held his ground. When the creatures bore directly upon them and Kira thought she could see their eyes, she bolted.

The warrior impassively tightened his grip on her arm before she could take a second step. Well it seemed he had anticipated her move, but as the horses drew yet nearer, Kira could not even summon surprise.

They whinnied and she covered her ears with her hands, knowing they were too close to turn. Kira cringed and turned toward the warrior, his grip on her arm allowing her precious little movement, indeed. Her heart pounded and she cowered against him, but the horses veered off unexpectedly.

Kira glanced up in astonishment. Her fear transformed magically to delight when the horses cantered around them in an ever-tightening circle to slow their pace. He had summoned them. And they had come. Kira looked to her warrior with newfound respect. Never had she known anyone who had a way with beasts. The creatures walked the last few paces between them, one nuzzling the warrior’s other hand with its nose.

They had not been trampled to death. Kira watched in amazement as the warrior scratched the beast behind its ears with what might have been affection. When the one with cream markings on its brown coat nudged its nose against her knee, she dared to stretch out a hand and mimic the warrior’s gesture.

To her surprise the wild creature tolerated her tentative caress. Its coat was thicker and softer than she might have anticipated and Kira reached to touch the furry curve of its ear. The horse abruptly snorted and proudly tossed its head, backing away to fix her with an assessing eye.

She feared it would run away and the warrior would be angry with her, but the horse stood his ground and regarded her cautiously. Kira remained as still as she could, sensing this was part of the warrior’s strategy with the creatures. She barely dared to breathe as the beast eyed her warily.

A long moment later, the horse stepped toward her again. It ducked its muzzle under her hand demandingly this time and Kira could not help but smile.

It liked her. She rubbed its ears, daring to press her fingers a little more firmly into the fur, and the horse amazingly leaned into her caress.

The warrior released her elbow abruptly, moving with a speed that startled her. In the blink of an eye he had cast a harness over the head of the horse before her. The creature tossed its head indignantly and pranced for a few paces. Her warrior did not relinquish his grip on the reins and the horse soon settled.

Could it be that the horse had been harnessed before? Kira could not imagine that a wild creature would take so readily to the restraint otherwise. But no time had she to reflect upon the matter. Suddenly the warrior dropped the reins to the ground and stepped on them, simultaneously gripping her waist and lifting her. Kira panicked.

He would not put her on this horse alone!

She struggled against him and the horse nervously danced sideways. The warrior dropped her to her feet once more though he did not release his grip on her waist. He said something quickly to her, but Kira could not understand him. She shook her head desperately, unable to think beyond her terror of being on the horse.

His voice dropped when he spoke again and she fancied he spoke more slowly. Despite that, Kira looked stubbornly at the ground, unwilling to aid him in any way with whatever foul plans he had for her. The warrior muttered something and gripped her chin, relentlessly forcing her to meet his eyes. Once again she was startled by their silvery tone, that momentary surprise long enough for him to snare her attention.

“Tiflis,” he said slowly, his accent making it difficult for Kira to immediately understand his meaning. “Tiflis,” he repeated. She nodded quickly. Tiflis. What about Tiflis? He pointed to her and the horse, turning to gesture toward the horizon past the Mongol camp. “Tiflis,” he said again, and Kira understood.

He was sending her home.

Her heart fluttered but she did not dare to hope until she knew the fullness of his plan. Too good to be true this was and a catch there must be. Kira pointed tentatively to the warrior, not daring to touch him with her fingertip.

“Tiflis?” she asked. Uncertain she was whether he meant to accompany her, but he shook his head firmly. He repeated his assertion and Kira nodded once more.

She was going home alone. Was it possible that she had misunderstood him? One glance to the resolute gleam in the warrior’s eyes destroyed that illusion. Relief flooded through her and she dared not think too much about the matter. No understanding had she of his reasoning, but she would grasp the unexpected gift with both hands and flee directly home.

But she had to ride this horse to get there. She turned a wary eye on the horse, knowing full well that the creature was her only possible means of transport. Mayhap to go home, she could conquer this fear.

When the warrior lifted her once more, Kira did not struggle and the horse did not stir as her weight was settled on its back. The warrior flicked an imperious finger at Kira’s knee and she obediently lifted it over the horse’s back, her color rising with the awareness that the warrior was seeing far more of her
chalwar
than was truly appropriate.

But well enough had he shown that he was not tempted by her, she reminded herself fiercely, accepting the reins from him as her nervousness rose.

Could she really ride this creature all the way home?

The warrior stayed her with one hand and she watched as he unlashed the sheath on the inside of his left forearm. A dagger obviously reposed within it and Kira’s fear rose once again. What did he intend to do? Was this all a ruse to raise her hopes before he killed her? Did he mean to retrieve the pearl once and for all in this secluded spot where none might help her?

Kira recoiled when he reached for her arm. He frowned impatiently, the fact that he seemed puzzled by her response dissipating some of Kira’s doubts. He tucked her hand firmly under his arm and pressed it against his side, leaving the soft flesh of her forearm turned up. Kira shivered, but he simply laid the sheath over her arm and lashed it there with his characteristic efficiency of movement.

When he released her arm and handed her the reins, Kira understood that he was giving her a means of protecting herself. When last had anyone given her anything? When last had anyone done anything for her at all? Kira looked to him in amazement, but he merely propped his hands on his hips and jerked his head in the direction she was to ride.

“Tiflis,” he repeated yet again, sparing a pointed glance to the sinking sun.

Kira touched the hilt of the knife tentatively, struggling to accept what he was doing for her. A gift he had granted her that could save her life.

Impulsively she reached into her pocket and retrieved the pearl she had passed. She thrust her hand out between them and held the gem out to him at arm’s length. ‘Twas only fair, after all, that she give him the pearl.

He frowned as he held out his hand, then understanding dawned in his eyes as he realized what she offered. His gaze rose slowly to lock with hers and Kira fought the tremor that danced over her flesh when he deliberately took the gem from her fingers.

“Thank you,” Kira said simply. She willed him to understand what she meant, touching the knife once more and laying a hand on the horse’s neck.

The warrior’s eyes gleamed and he rolled the lustrous pearl between his rough thumb and forefinger as he silently held her gaze. Something changed in his expression, though Kira could not have named that tentative softening in his eyes. Precious little chance had she to do so, for he half turned away and scowled when she did not urge the horse onward.

“Tiflis,” he insisted flatly.

When Kira did not yet move, uncertain what kept her from doing so, the warrior raised a hand and gave the creature’s rump a resounding smack. Kira yelped in surprise and desperately tried to grip the beast’s round belly with her knees as it ran at breakneck speed toward home.

When she had gained her balance, she risked one glance over her shoulder to find the warrior far behind her, his hands propped on his hips as he watched her flight. The grasses waved about him but he stood completely motionless, silhouetted against the distant hills, the other three horses grazing nonchalantly about him.

* * *

Thierry found the yurt unnaturally quiet when he returned. He prowled around its interior restlessly, unaccountably annoyed that naught had appeared to change, when in fact so much had.

The shaman had moved openly against Thierry for the first time. No idle threat had he made this time, for in taking the woman, the shaman had challenged Thierry’s prior claim. No doubt had Thierry that all within the camp already knew the tale. This could not bode well for Thierry’s future.

Vulnerability he had feared, and vulnerability she had brought. Never had he been challenged like this; never had another dared. Although the woman was gone, Thierry wondered what fruit this incident would bear. Would his authority be questioned? His command over the
tümen
revoked? He knew not and liked not the uncertainty.

‘Twas clear already that Abaqa was losing patience with him, though whether the two incidents were linked, Thierry could not say. Abaqa’s threats were openly made this day and ‘twas clear Thierry had gained naught of credit on the field. Berke’s retreat had stolen his sole opportunity to redeem himself.

Would Abaqa cast him out? Or would he suffer the same fate as Chinkai?

Thierry scuffed at the carpets and scowled across the shadows of his yurt, startled to find his vision of the sleeping woman sprawled across his cushions as clear as if she were really there.

He turned away from the haunting image, dismayed to find his anger rising. She was gone. Headed home to her family where he should have left her. Thierry’s gut clenched at the thought but he forced himself to face reality. Destined she was to spend her life sorting pearls. Mayhap she would wed one of those soft urban men. Bear him robust sons and delicate daughters.

Thierry strode out into the growing darkness, biting down on the bile that rose in his throat. She had not been his to touch. Though he tried to forget its presence, the pearl he had shoved into his pocket seemed to burn a mark in his thigh. Only too well did he understand that it was the pearl he had demanded. Thierry resolutely ignored the press of the gem as he decided to seek out some
qumis.