Claire Delacroix (3 page)

The warrior nodded curtly, apparently having understood the gist of her response from her gesture, and barked an order to Johannes. The scholar raised imploring eyes to Kira.

“Some pearls he needs valued immediately for the Mongol khan,” he whispered. Kira felt her eyes widen in surprise despite her determination to keep her thoughts hidden.

Mongols. ‘Twas true, then. Her gaze flicked reluctantly back to the third man with his characteristically Eastern features as though to verify her original suspicions.

When the Asiatic man grinned wickedly, Kira inhaled sharply. Her gaze danced back to the tall man seemingly of its own accord. He was watching her with that unnervingly silent scrutiny. Kira took a slow breath as she came to terms with Johannes’ revelation.

No need had she to look into either pair of cold eyes again to know that these men would slaughter anyone who did not do their bidding. ‘Twas all part of their daily business, she had little doubt.

No wonder Johannes was terrified.

But she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

Kira drew herself up straighter and endeavored to look confident of her own abilities. No heart had she for abandoning Johannes to this forbidding man’s disapproval.

“A rough value can I give him of the gems,” she offered, the strength of her voice surprising her. Johannes translated her words and Kira took a deep breath, willing her heartbeat to slow. Truly she hoped that she could fulfill this task.

And her father thought that
he
had left her a test of her abilities. Kira licked her lips nervously as the warrior slowly slid a small pouch from his tunic. Could she do this? In truth there was little choice now. The warrior said something directly to her and Kira was forced to meet his compelling gaze once more though she did not understand his words.

“He says that the way pearls drop from your lips when you speak is a sign you can be trusted,” Johannes supplied.

Kira swallowed with difficulty, knowing that she dare not reveal the truth of what he had obviously misinterpreted. She reached for the bulging velvet pouch, startled at the jolt that tripped over her skin when the warrior’s rough fingertips brushed hers.

His skin was warm.

Suddenly Kira was aware of him in a much more intimate sense than she would have preferred. The unexpected contact and the faint waft of his musky scent awakened something within Kira that would have been better left slumbering.

She snatched the bag and backed hastily away, hating the knowing expression that lit his eyes at her move. Curse him for presuming to guess her thoughts. For no flattering thoughts had she of a barbarian warrior, regardless of his own interpretation of her response. Kira lifted her chin defiantly and glared at the tall man.

“Time will this take,” she managed to say, forcing herself to continue even when that jaw hardened with displeasure. “Mayhap you could return later.”

Impossible ‘twould be to work under this merciless scrutiny. Irrational ‘twas and she knew it, but Kira wanted this man out of her father’s shop. Now. She felt agitated as she never had before and told herself ‘twas the man’s very stillness that unnerved her. And the way he watched every move so impassively. ‘Twas unnatural.

Her heart sank when Johannes’ voice faded, his translation not even complete before the warrior shook his head with certainty. He bit out something that Kira had no trouble recognizing as a recrimination or a threat or both and she felt her cheeks heat again. Too much ‘twas to have him question her honesty.

“No intention have I of cheating him and you had best make that clear,” she told Johannes tersely. She felt the heat of an indignant flush staining her cheeks but did not care. “An honest house is this. ‘Twas only my suspicion that ‘twould be easier for me to concentrate on the task without supervision that prompted my suggestion.”

A flurry of Mongol followed her words and again the warrior shook his head, deliberately settling himself onto an inverted oil vessel that her father had abandoned in his packing. He braced his elbows on his knees, looking even more immobile than he had before, and growled one last comment.

“He says you will have to get used to him,” Johannes supplied in a small voice. Though his words came as no surprise to Kira, her heart took an unsteady lurch as she met the warrior’s resolute gaze.

Fine. She dropped the sack of pearls deliberately on her worktable. The sooner the pearls were assessed, the sooner he would be gone. And a good riddance ‘twould be.

* * *

She was annoyed, of that there was little doubt. Thierry found the unexpectedness of her response curiously amusing. Fear he was used to, but disgruntled cooperation was a response that was entirely novel.

Evidently the woman was a witch.

Those full lips had tightened, and the teeth that had flashed when she smiled earlier were gritted together in a clear bid for self-control. The soft gold of her complexion was now tinged with a more ruddy hue. She cleared her work space brusquely of other gems, the expression in those wide dark eyes mutinous at a minimum.

For all of that, though, she did his bidding. Thierry supposed another less perceptive than he might have been fooled, but he saw every minute sign of her displeasure. That such a small and feminine creature would even consider defying him was as fascinating as it was unprecedented. Thierry could not help but watch her tiny hands as she worked.

Though she refused to glance in his direction, Thierry knew she was completely aware of his regard. He leaned back against the wall, fingering the hilt of his blade speculatively. What manner of woman spewed pearls from her mouth when she spoke?

A puzzle that was, but no less of one than her response to him. Why was she not terrified? Certainly the thin scholar had made it clear that he was Mongol. Fear had flashed through her eyes, telling Thierry that she was well familiar with their reputation. But she had not recoiled in the manner of most soft urban women who had seen naught of life.

What kind of woman would have the audacity to act thus? A Mongol woman, surely, but this woman’s delicate features hinted naught at Eastern blood.

A witch she must truly be. Indeed, ‘twas well Thierry had guessed her game, for he would need to guard himself against her sorcery. No other explanation could there be. Convinced of his own logic, Thierry watched the woman with grim determination.

Incredibly, his suggestion that she might cheat him if left alone seemed to have struck a nerve. That aroused Thierry’s curiosity. Surely these town people did not expect foreigners to trust them?

Or mayhap she simply disliked that he had guessed her game so early.

“Mayhap you should have the pearls assessed back at camp,” Nogai suggested.

Thierry stiffened, hearing the leer in his old companion’s voice. He did not have to look to know full well the path his
anda
‘s thoughts had taken. Though the woman’s garb was cut full, ‘twas clear enough that she would be small and shapely. He stifled an uncharacteristic surge of annoyance at his old companion’s appetites.

“They will be assessed here,” he said flatly, hating Nogai’s knowing chuckle. Thierry felt the other man lean closer, fully anticipating that his next words would be for his ears alone.

“Tempted, are you not?” Nogai whispered mischievously. Thierry did not acknowledge the taunt, staring resolutely forward. He was
not
tempted. Women did not tempt him. “Well should you be, for she is a tasty morsel, indeed.” When his words still garnered no response, Nogai dropped his voice yet further. Thierry struggled not to bristle.

“Mayhap should you not be interested, I should sample her myself.”

“Nay!” Thierry bit out the denial more harshly than he intended.

The woman glanced up like a frightened doe, her startled expression making him consider apologizing.

Apologizing? Khanbaliq loomed in Thierry’s mind and he straightened his shoulders deliberately. ‘Twas only the soft folk of Khanbaliq and other courts who apologized to women. Urban folk. He tried unsuccessfully to summon a sneer. A Mongol would not apologize. Thierry held the woman’s startled gaze for a charged moment, then her color rose and she turned abruptly away.

A Mongol he was these days and he had best recall that fact. This woman he owed naught. Thierry felt his eyes narrow as he recalled the way the pearls had spewed from her lips. And the tingle she had launched over his skin when their hands had accidentally brushed.

“A witch is she,” he pronounced, as much to remind himself as anything else. To his completely unwarranted relief, Nogai’s manner cooled immediately.

“Touch her not,” Thierry added testily.

“Nay,” Nogai concurred. He even took a wary step backward, unconsciously granting the woman more space. “No telling is there what price she would extract for that.”

The scholar drew himself up taller as though he personally took insult for the charge. One cold glance from Thierry silenced any protest he might have made.

The woman’s gaze flicked between the three of them uncomprehendingly. Clearly she sensed that they discussed her. All three men remained stubbornly silent, even the scholar refusing to clarify the charges for her. The woman’s lips thinned in annoyance and Thierry almost smiled.

Smiled? First apologizing, then smiling. Surely his wits were addled this day. Thierry scowled. ‘Twas the witch and her sorcery that did this to him. She spun with a defiant flick of her chin and carried a broad vessel back into the shadows.

Where was she going? Thierry panicked and jumped to his feet.

For his obvious suspicions he earned a scathing glance from the lady in question that effectively checked his pursuit. Thierry almost smiled at her indignation, but the ripe curve of her buttocks outlined when she bent to scoop water from an urn halted that rare impulse before it had truly begun.

Nogai made an admiring sound under his breath that Thierry alone seemed to note. She was yet more shapely than he had guessed and Thierry’s mouth went unexpectedly dry. How long
had
he been chaste? He could not cease fingering the hilt of his blade, though he told himself the gesture was merely a habit.

She propped the brimming clay bowl on her hip as she returned. The further evidence of the slender curves hidden beneath the full cotton garment fed Thierry’s awareness of both her and his own increasingly agitated state. Abruptly and uncharacteristically he wished he had been able to completely adopt his tribesmen’s penchant for simply taking whatever they wanted.

The value of the pearls was all he was here for, he reminded himself sternly. Once he had that information, he would return to the khan’s camp. With Nogai alone. Abaqa would have his tribute from Tiflis, such as it was, and they would ride to battle on the morrow.

He watched the woman settle the brimming bowl on her worktable. Her hands were long fingered and graceful for all their delicate size, though Thierry knew not why he noted such a thing.

‘Twould be ridiculous to undermine any of his aspirations for what could amount to no more than base desire. Abaqa might not thrive as long as his sire, and Thierry might yet have the opportunity to vie for his ambition. No woman was worth jeopardizing all of that.

The woman moved quickly, her sudden gesture as she cast the pearls into the vessel catching Thierry’s eye. He leaped forward in alarm, too late to intervene, as the contents of the velvet pouch spilled into the water.

A trick ‘twas! And too absorbed had he been in his own troubles to anticipate her move!

Nogai swore. He lunged forward in the same moment as Thierry. The two of them towered over the woman as she glanced up in alarm. Thierry peered into the depth of the water, his anger flaring when he realized he could not see the pearls.

They were gone! He had failed!

The vessel had some sort of false bottom, Thierry concluded in dismay. He cursed his own stupidity in letting his baser instincts cloud his normal caution.

He would not grant Abaqa such an easy victory.

The woman’s eyes widened when Thierry hauled his blade purposefully out of his belt. He silently applauded how well she played her role for she looked confused, then perfectly incredulous to find the unsheathed blade right beneath her nose. She met his gaze, her beautiful dark eyes startled. Thierry hated himself for his inexplicable urge to reassure her.

Was she not bent on deceiving him? Did such intent not grant him the right to take her life? Why then did he have this inexplicable urge to stroke the furrows from her brow?

“Tell him that this is the best way to find forgeries.”

She spoke hastily to Johannes, the translation making Thierry frown. He watched with amazement as she gestured to bobbing orbs on the surface of the water. She murmured something else, and the scholar’s quick translation sparked Thierry’s interest.

“You have been tricked.”

He dared to wonder in that moment if his own assessment of the gems had been correct. The woman quickly plucked the “pearls” that floated off the surface of the water as Thierry watched. Before he could intervene, she offered them to him with a dismissive gesture that told Thierry more than eloquently their authenticity. They
were
counterfeit. He grudgingly acknowledged her skill as he looked at the “gems,” lowering his blade but not yet ready to put it away.

“Counterfeit,” Nogai breathed. Thierry felt his friend’s regard upon him. “You suspected as much before we even came here, then?” he demanded admiringly. Thierry merely nodded, watching the woman carefully to see what she would do next. “City dwellers,” Nogai sneered as he shook his head. “Surely they cannot think we are such fools as to let such an insult pass?”

“The matter is best left to Abaqa,” Thierry said calmly, a newfound admiration in his gaze as he watched the witch.

Mayhap he had misjudged her. She flicked a self-conscious glance to him and flushed in a most fetching way. Thierry’s gaze dropped to her lips. She licked them and something raged to life within him.

Thierry frowned and tore his gaze away. He filed the false gems carefully in one of his pockets that Abaqa might be shown the fullness of the insult. He peered into the depths of the bowl with curiosity, all too aware of her sweet scent. The water had cleared and Thierry counted ten pearls nestled together in the bottom.