Claire Delacroix (14 page)

Then the warrior’s finger slipped decisively lower. Kira caught her breath, knowing his destination without a doubt yet powerless to stop him. A jolt tripped through her when he touched that spot again, the one he had teased briefly in the other tent.

Kira panicked. She would not couple with him again this night. She was sore, she was confused, she was tired and rather less than herself thanks to the effect of the
qumis.

And he was teasing her, breaking down her resistance with single-minded resolve just so they could mate again. No regard did he truly have for her, for had she not seen his lack of response to her nudity the other morning? Indeed, he had only partaken of what was offered. No remorse did he feel for his deed, and at her telling response to the gentle pressure of his fingertip, Kira thrashed in an almost certainly futile attempt to gain her freedom.

To her astonishment the warrior let her go.

K
ira gained her footing in a flurry of tangled silk, and felt an utter fool when the warrior did not move at all in pursuit. She gulped unsteadily to regulate her breathing, finding herself snared once more by his assessing regard.

Again they watched each other warily.

Kira began to wonder if he had turned to stone in truth, then his eyes narrowed suddenly and he abruptly stood. She darted out of his range and he spared her a glance that could have been indulgent had it come from any other man.

With smooth gestures he lit a lamp and hung it from the central pole. He carried a flame from the lamp to a small stove reposing in one corner, his intensity in focusing on his task leaving Kira feeling as though she had overreacted. Indeed, it seemed unlikely that this supremely unconcerned man even knew she was with him, let alone that he expected her to couple with him. Kira shifted her weight uncertainly from one foot to the other, not knowing what she should do next.

Should she run?

But where else would she find haven on this night and in this camp? Had she not wanted him to claim her? Evidently he had done so and it seemed that her place was here.

Even if her companion was markedly disinterested in that particular fact.

He filled a large pot with water and set it on the small stove. Kira nibbled her lip, wondering what was his intent. To her surprise he began to peel off his clothes and methodically fold them before laying them neatly aside.

He meant to couple again! Kira panicked anew. She scurried to the farthest side of the tent. Full well did she know that she would be able to do little to fend him off, but Kira kept her distance. No reason was there to make his conquest an easy one.

The warrior continued disrobing, clearly undeterred by her actions. Not a glance did he spare in her direction, even when he stood splendidly nude, and Kira acknowledged a niggle of doubt as to his objective. Could she have misread him? The pot of water steamed and he squatted before the short stove to pour the water into a bowl. He rummaged in his saddlebags, producing a length of cloth, from which he tore a shorter piece, and a brown block that fit easily into his hand.

Only now did he turn to Kira, and she was disconcerted at how readily he looked directly to her. Indeed, the man fairly had eyes in the back of his head. He offered the trio to her, but she hastily shook her head. Kira scurried backward, not trusting him enough to close the distance between them. The warrior shrugged and plunged the block into the water.

Only when it began to lather on his skin did Kira realize that it was soap. Considerably coarser and darker soap than she knew, certainly, but still she licked her lips carefully at the very promise of a bath. Filthy she felt after these past few days. How long had it been since she had indulged in the luxury of bathing twice daily? Indeed, that ritual of her life in Tiflis seemed but a distant memory.

Of course, she would have to disrobe to wash properly and that was out of the question.

Kira stubbornly turned her back on the sight of her warrior’s nudity and folded her arms across her chest. She could well enough go without a bath this night.

Although, she conceded as she spared a glance down to the filmy array of garish scarves beneath his heavy cloak, the man could not see much more of her than he already had. And had she not been nude in his presence before?

She flicked a glance over her shoulder to find him scrubbing his body with evident relish. He ran the wet cloth over his skin with a flourish, closing his eyes as the warm water ran over his skin.

Curse him. Had she any idea that the man had a sense of humor, she might have thought him deliberately teasing her. But not this man. He glanced up and their gazes locked for a long moment, Kira fancying she spied a glimmer of something in those silver depths before he abruptly returned to his task.

She turned and stared resolutely at the cavorting shadows thrown on the tent wall. Had she not been in the river but two days past? How dirty indeed could she be? Her belly itched at the thought. The warrior made some low sound of satisfaction in his throat and splashed in the water with obvious pleasure.

Well it seemed to Kira that her very skin crawled at that unwelcome reminder. The river water had been filthy and brown. And that
had
been two days past. She noted the dark line beneath her nails as the splash of his bathing taunted her anew.

Enough.

The man had seen and indeed sampled all she had. Foolish pride would not keep her from being clean. Kira dropped his cloak from her shoulders and bent to untie the knotted scarves with shaking fingers before she could change her mind.

Her nipples beaded as she turned to confront him in her nudity and she could not have met his eyes to save her life. She tossed her hair over her shoulder as though untroubled and resolutely crossed the tent to demand the soap with one outstretched hand.

The warrior did not surrender the soap.

Kira gritted her teeth before she looked up to meet his eyes, only to find him shaking his head with that maddening slowness. He said something that was evidently an explanation and she was certain he was denying her a bath.

Of all the wicked ways to tempt her! Anger shot through Kira. She heartily wished that she could tell him in no uncertain terms what she thought of such churlish behavior.

Indeed, it might be worth telling him, whether he could understand her words or not.

Kira propped her hands on her hips and opened her mouth to do just that, only to find the warrior’s heavy finger firm against her lips.

It was wet, and a trickle of warm water ran over her chin from his hand, but Kira could not move to stop it. Her eyes widened in surprise.

Kira reluctantly met his gaze as she fell silent, unable to deny the twinkle she found there. The very sight disconcerted her with its unexpectedness so that she lost the thread of her argument. Instead she found herself nodding dumbly when he held up one cautionary finger and cocked a brow.

His wet skin glistened as he tossed his water out the tent flap and she could not help but notice the play of the muscles across his back. Kira set her lips stubbornly, mentally granting him but an instant more of tolerance before she made her thoughts most clear.

To her surprise he filled the bowl with the remainder of the hot water and offered her the bowl. Indeed, it seemed he had divided the water in half as if he fully expected her to bathe despite her original refusal.

It irked Kira that he found her so predictable, the reappearance of that twinkle in his silver eyes doing little to improve her temper. A new length of cloth did he tear, offering it and the block of soap with all the gallantry of a foreign courtier.

Curse him.

Kira snatched the soap and cloth in ill humor, momentarily grateful that he did not seem determined to aid her in this task at least.

Although, the way he casually turned aside and ignored her nudity left something to be desired, as well. He laid out a pair of blankets nonchalantly near his folded garments, evidently completely oblivious of her nakedness or even her presence. At least he could glance in her direction once in a while, Kira thought irritably as she scrubbed her skin. The man could make a pretense of being attracted to her, if truly he had claimed her.

Unless he thought her merely a whore. Kira’s eyes widened at the possibility and her fingers fumbled so that she nearly dropped the soap. Could she have sacrificed her virginity for naught but a night?

‘Twas unthinkable, but not so easy to dismiss as Kira might have liked. She looked to the warrior to find him squatting atop the blanket, apparently at ease with his own nudity and watching her carefully. Kira had the uncanny sense that he had sensed her distress over that last thought, though truly there was no way he could know what was in her mind. He cocked one dark brow, as though inviting her to explain. Kira wished she could.

Somehow she sensed that he might reassure her, irrational though that thought was. What
had
she done? Tears blurred her vision once more but Kira refused to let them fall, stubbornly reminding herself that she was yet alive. Had that not been the point of surrendering her virginity? To ensure her very survival?

But had that truly been achieved? Kira wished she had some assurance as to the security of her role, whether she be whore or claimed woman.

She frowned and scrubbed the remainder of the soap from her skin, surprised to find the warrior looming in her peripheral vision. His brows tightened together as though he, too, was frustrated by their lack of common language, then he began pointing around the tent. Each time he pointed, he said something terse, a word or mayhap a phrase, but Kira knew not what was going on.

When he pointed to his tunic and stated
“kalat,”
she suddenly understood.

He was naming objects in Mongolian. Kira nodded quickly, glancing around for some way to indicate that she understood him. Her gaze fell on a tin cup and she pointed inside it.

“Qumis,”
she said hopefully. The warrior nodded once with evident satisfaction. He held her gaze and pointed to the middle of his chest.

“Thierry,” he said firmly. Kira felt her eyes narrow, for the word did not sound Mongolian to even her untrained ears. He repeated it, though, and she realized he was telling her his name.

Thierry. Kira almost said his name herself, having an inexplicable urge to feel the word roll over her tongue, but checked her response just in time.

She would
not
say his name. She would not forgive him so readily. Not until she understood whether she was his woman for good or his whore for this night alone.

And neither would she couple with him again, should she have any choice in the matter.

The warrior watched her expectantly, but Kira stubbornly said naught as she lifted her chin high. She certainly would not tell him her name, for that would be worse than saying his. That silver gaze bored into hers, as though willing her to understand, but Kira resolutely made no acknowledgment of his demand.

Finally he gestured to her and cocked one brow questioningly, but Kira shook her head adamantly. She would not tell him. His lips thinned and he turned away, indicating with one hand the blankets he had unfolded and beckoning to Kira. She shook her head again, pointing determinedly to the other side of the tent.

She would not sleep with him.

There was no doubt that she had displeased him with that. The warrior folded his arms across his chest and shook his head just as determinedly. Kira straightened her shoulders, knowing that she had no intention of acquiescing to share a bed with him this night. Had he not let her sleep in privacy before?

A male voice raised in song outside the tent drew Kira’s attention away from their contest of wills. Two women giggled before the man outside began to laugh raucously, as well. No doubt there were some indulging themselves this night. They were close, though, and she wondered fleetingly, as their voices drew yet nearer, if they intended to come right into the tent.

Kira looked back to the warrior in trepidation. He counted off three fingers and gestured outside with those fingers, then pointed to the side of the tent where Kira had intended to sleep. She shook her head quickly, certain he was just trying to frighten her, but he nodded confidently and repeated the gesture. They could not be coming here. Had she and the warrior not been alone here before?

The voices grew yet louder. The warrior watched her silently and Kira wondered if that night had been an exception. Certainly the tent was much too large for one man alone. Kira licked her lips nervously as the laughter grew nearer.

Well it seemed that their privacy was to be short-lived.

Still Kira hesitated as the voices outside grew in volume, jumping when the warrior unexpectedly scooped up his silk
kurta
with uncharacteristic impatience and strode across the space between them. He planted himself between Kira and the tent flap, shooting her a murderous look when she might have stepped away. He shook out the folded shirt with a snap of his wrist.

An instant later her vision was clouded by the undyed silk as he hauled it over her head. The lustrous fabric slid over her face, releasing the warm scent of his skin. Kira closed her eyes for a moment, opening them to find the singing man and two women staggering into the tent. Only just in time had the warrior covered her nudity and she was astonished to find gratitude flooding through her.

Surely she was confused this night to feel gratitude for the warrior who had taken her so publicly. Truly the
qumis
had addled her mind.

The newly arrived man whistled appreciatively and made a drunken grab in Kira’s direction. The warrior moved quickly to kick out the other man’s ankle, sending him sprawling on his face, much to his women’s giggling delight. The fallen man laughed and shook a finger at the warrior as he rolled to his back and made some jest, though indeed the warrior did not seem to see the humor in the situation.

Kira barely had time to note that the man was the same who had been the warrior’s companion earlier before she was scooped off her feet. Her breath caught and she was unexpectedly deposited in the middle of the unfolded blanket.

The warrior had dropped down beside her before she could voice her complaint, one arm clamped around her waist while the other swept the blanket over them in a savage gesture. She glanced up to find a dangerous gleam in his eye and a stern set to his mouth that effectively checked any impulse to make any protest clear.

Indeed, he seemed quite agitated that his companion had reached for her, his relentless grip on Kira naught if not possessive. His very response seemed to make his ownership clear, and Kira could not help but wonder at the cause.

Could she have been claimed after all? If so, for how long and on what terms? She glanced up at the warrior’s stern countenance and he seemed to sense her doubt, for he caught her eye even as his fingers spread to span her waist. He tucked her slightly closer to his side and, knowing she had little choice in the matter, Kira settled against his hard warmth to sleep.