Claire Delacroix (4 page)

‘Twas obviously a magic trick of hers to be able to so easily sort the wheat from the chaff. Though he knew not the means of her sorcery, Thierry respected the result. She pushed up a sleeve to reveal a slim and honey-hued forearm and scooped the remaining pearls from the base of the bowl. Was her skin the same shade everywhere? The question was more intriguing than it ought to have been. Thierry abruptly held out his hand to claim the meager spoils, uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts.

To his complete astonishment the woman plopped the gems into her mouth.

Nay! She meant to swallow the only part of the tribute that was valuable!

Rage filled Thierry, rage with himself for being so foolish as to trust a stranger. He dove across the narrow table separating them. The vessel of water toppled precariously. The woman cried out and stepped back in surprise, but Thierry was quicker.

His hands locked around the slim length of her throat with practiced ease. The water splashed over their feet. The scholar shouted in dismay, Nogai swore yet again, but Thierry had no time for qualms.

He could not let her swallow them.

That one thought filled his mind even as he noted the softness of her skin beneath his hands. The woman’s eyes opened even wider as his grip tightened purposefully. He noted with some satisfaction that fear had finally claimed her.

He flexed his fingers so they would not slide over her silky skin of their own accord. She had tricked him!

The witch choked unevenly and spat a half dozen pearls to the floor, tears filling her dark eyes as still she coughed. Out of the corner of his eye Thierry noted that Nogai retrieved the gems.

There had been ten pearls in the water, Thierry was certain of it.

Four there were still unaccounted for and well he intended to wait them out.

He gave the woman a little shake and she made a gurgling sound deep in her throat. Furious that she had so deceived him and was showing a perverse inclination to expire at this most inopportune time, Thierry released her throat and slapped her back hard.

Another pearl leaped to the floor.

Three more! He smacked her shoulder blades once more when she still choked, ignoring the older man’s fervent and useless prayers. A second gem made the jump, rolling across the dirt. Finally a third gleamed as it fell from her lips. The woman drew a shuddering breath and cleared her throat slowly, wiping her tears as Thierry glared at her impatiently.

One more there was.

When she spoke, he would have the last pearl, he resolved grimly. His eyes narrowed at the look of outright hostility she shot at him. Traitorous witch! He gripped her shoulders that she might not bolt and waited patiently.

“You stupid fool!”

She spat an insult he had no interest in understanding. Thierry watched her full lips with growing disbelief when no gem dropped from them. He frowned at her tirade even as the older man translated, the indisputably angry words flowing over him unattended. There could be little doubting her meaning, those brown eyes flashing with fury as she wagged an admonishing finger beneath his nose.

“Look what you have done with your meddling!” she charged angrily.
She
was angry? Thierry inhaled slowly when the scholar’s words made clear her accusation that he was at fault.

Mayhap she was annoyed that he had foiled her plan, he speculated thoughtfully. Otherwise she might have had nine more pearls. His lips set grimly.

No right had she to the khan’s tribute. To think he had thought her insulted by his earlier charge that she meant to cheat him. She had simply been annoyed that he had so accurately anticipated her intent. A fool he had been to trust her at all. Thierry regarded her coldly, then held out his palm between them in a silent but eloquent gesture.

The woman shook her head firmly and pointed to her stomach once more.

“Ways there are to retrieve something swallowed,” Nogai asserted calmly as he unsheathed his blade. The woman took a hasty step backward, evidently needing no translation of the other man’s intent.

“Aye,” Thierry agreed and headed purposefully for her.

The gem would be his. She darted to the back of the shop in a futile effort to evade him. When he cornered her, her breath was coming in quick gasps, her eyes and the hasty flutter of the pulse in her throat revealing that she was finally truly afraid. She said something that was obviously an entreaty, but Thierry had no intention of following Nogai’s suggestion.

He would not question why. He pressed down on her shoulders until she dropped to her knees, unable to help noticing how tiny she was as he closed one hand around her jaw. The other slipped into the thick silk of the hair at her nape.

Soft, he marveled, hesitating for an instant. Years had it been since he had felt anything so soft as this woman’s hair. She spared him a terrified glance that recalled him fully to his senses. Thierry pushed his finger into her mouth and down her throat.

She clutched at his hand, her grip surprisingly strong as she coughed and gagged. Thierry knelt over her as she dropped to all fours, sensing that the pearl would shortly be his.

Her offering, though, was completely devoid of gems.

A witch she was, indeed. He glanced to her speculatively, finding her looking thoroughly human with those tears of exertion streaming over her cheeks. Despite her state, she managed to glare at him indignantly. Thierry once more stifled that unfamiliar urge to smile.

Instead he frowned and held out his hand once more.

“Gone ‘tis,” she insisted, the scholar’s rapid translation filling Thierry’s ears. He refused to look away and she pointed emphatically to her stomach. “None have you to thank for that but yourself,” she chided, her chin tilting up defiantly.

Something about her indignant response niggled at Thierry, even as her lack of fear intrigued him. He looked quickly to the scholar, wondering if he had misunderstood her intent.

“What does she mean?” he demanded impatiently, still not relinquishing his grip on her shoulders.

His fingers curled around her and without thinking, he drew her closer. The spice of her skin was intoxicating and he forced himself to look away as he gathered his jumbled thoughts. Thierry felt rather than saw her look to the scholar in turn. Her breathing quickened when he simply responded without translating.

“The flavor of a pearl reveals its origin and hence its value,” the older man supplied quietly. Thierry glanced back to the woman in time to see her flick a glance filled with trepidation up to him. She demanded something of the scholar, presumably an explanation, and he noted that her voice had risen.

“She should have told me her intent,” he growled, staring at her so hard that she seemed compelled to look to him anew. When she did, he savored his threat, relishing the sound of the Mongol tripping off his tongue as she shivered beneath the weight of his hands. “Now she will have to pay the price.”

T
he warrior released his grip on her so abruptly that Kira nearly fell back on the floor; Johannes’ translation of his last words no reassurance at all. What did he mean? Her mouth went dry as he retrieved the pearls from his companion and jammed them back into the velvet sack. He shoved it into his tunic as he turned slowly and regarded her.

She would not cower.

Her heart began to gallop, however, her mind filling with a thousand possibilities. Would they kill her now to retrieve the gem? Kira had barely the chance to note a newly decisive gleam in his eye and panic before the warrior had closed the space between them and tossed her over his shoulder.

She struggled instinctively against him, earning herself a stinging slap on the buttocks and a tightened grip on the back of her knees. In truth, the blow hurt little but her pride. The other Mongol laughed, his lecherous grin right before her, and Kira cringed in anticipation of her fate. The time of reckoning had come and there was naught she could do to turn the tide. The warrior turned abruptly, the echo of his low voice rumbling against her thighs in a most disconcerting way.

‘Twas intimate beyond compare to be pressed against him thus. Kira desperately tried to put some distance between the warrior’s warm flesh and her own. His heat rose through his garments to taunt her breasts, her thighs, even her palms pressed against his shoulders. ‘Twas futile she knew to struggle, but Kira could do naught else.

“He says to tell you he means to have the pearl,” Johannes offered as he appeared abruptly before her eyes. His own dark eyes filled with sympathy before he continued. “One way or the other.”

Kira’s mind recoiled in shock at the promise in those words, but the warrior was ducking back out into the sunlight. His long strides took them across the market square and away from the only home she had known in record time.

“Johannes!” Kira cried out. She noted suddenly that the busy market had fallen silent as all simply watched her being carted away. “Johannes! You must help me!” Although Johannes had trotted into the market behind them, the warrior’s determined pace was quickly leaving him behind.

Much to Kira’s chagrin, Johannes seemed to be making no efforts to close the gaping distance. Would she be abandoned by her neighbors to the Mongols’ whim? What would her father have to say of this? Worse yet, she was leaving the shop untended in his absence. Kira cursed her own sorry hide for failing in yet another of her sire’s tasks. Never would she prove herself worthy of his love this way.

“Johannes!” The other warrior strode behind her captor with equally long steps. When Kira made the mistake of meeting his eyes, he very deliberately licked his lips. She recoiled, but he laughed harshly. Only too readily could she imagine what this one had in store for her. Truly she had fallen into the hands of the devil’s own spawn.

Mayhap it would have been a mercy if they had her killed quickly.

“None can help you but yourself, child,” Johannes called from far behind them. Kira heard the thread of fear in his voice. She looked desperately to the old neighbors in the market, dismayed to find them clearing out of the Mongols’ path, as well. They stood silently aside with terrified expressions.

But when had they ever helped her? Indeed, she was a fool to be surprised. Kira gritted her teeth and lifted her chin. How many times must they have heard her cry out during the night? How many times had they heard the bite of her father’s lash finding its mark and done naught for her? How often had she greeted her fate alone before?

How often, indeed.

No one to help her but herself. Truly, naught had changed.

* * *

Kira’s breath abandoned her lungs in one sharp move when the Mongol unexpectedly tossed her across the back of a horse. At least he touched her no more, though her skin still tingled from the imprint of his hands.

The beast wore a high red saddle, caparisons rich with embroidery hanging over its sides. Though the trappings were dirty and showing signs of wear, the horse’s chestnut coat was glossy as though it were well tended. It pranced impatiently beneath her weight, yet more evidence that it suffered naught beneath this man’s hand.

Mayhap another tended his beast, she told herself stubbornly. It could not be that a Mongol showed concern for any other than himself. Kira slanted a glance at her captor and confirmed her own silent judgment. Certainly no kindness ever passed from the hand of this stern man. Had he not slapped her own buttocks? Truly, men were all the same.

The horse took another nervous step and the ground moved dizzyingly beneath Kira’s gaze. She inhaled sharply at the promise of her first horseback ride and fought against the bile rising in her throat. Too unsteady a perch was this for her taste, and the journey had yet to begin.

She found the weight of an uncompromising hand in the small of her back and the warrior’s knees nudging her shoulder and thigh before she could collect her thoughts. Warmth flooded through her garments and across her skin from that outstretched palm, and Kira panicked.

He muttered something impatiently when Kira struggled to right herself. She glared up at him through the tangle of her hair.

“I will not ride like a sack of grain,” she informed him frostily, taking refuge from the barrage of unfamiliar feelings in anger once again.

He seemed somehow to understand, for one hand gripped her hair and hauled her upright painfully to sit before him in the saddle. Kira voiced no complaint, merely gritted her teeth. She would show no weakness. She felt the other Mongol watching them, painfully aware of his poorly concealed amusement. She stubbornly ignored him as she fought against her rising fear. What did they intend to do with her? Her imagination was only too ready to supply the obvious alternative. Her warrior made a demand, an imperious point of his finger making it clear that he intended her to ride astride.

Like a common whore. Never. Kira shook her head immediately at the inappropriateness of that, watching his lips thin to a grim line. ‘Twas bad enough to guess her fate without having to agree to the deed. Without preamble the warrior pushed her head resolutely back down toward his knee.

Well, if that was her choice, she would ride astride, Kira resolved. Anything would be better than the indignity of riding like a sack of grain. Not to mention that she would likely become ill in such a posture. She impatiently pushed aside his hand and sat up once more, gripping the horse’s mane as she struggled against her full djellaba to lift her leg over the creature’s back.

The Mongol muttered what was surely an oath. Kira flushed as his hands closed firmly around her waist as he lifted her high. Only too aware was Kira that his hands fully encompassed her waist and she felt claimed by him in some inexplicably new and disorienting way.

Nonsense. Kira’s cheeks flamed yet ruddier beneath the other Mongol’s interested eye. Full
chalwar
trousers she wore and naught was there for him to see. And well they both knew that she was no whore.

Even if he might mean to change that fact. Kira felt her hands begin to tremble as though they were not a part of her.

Kira leaned forward but evidently ‘twas not the warrior’s intent that they be separated, for one muscled arm locked around her waist. He imprisoned her easily against his chest, her arms pinned to her side beneath his relentless grip.

She struggled indignantly, the recent wounds on her back stinging with friction from her efforts as she roundly cursed his familiarity with her. The unmistakable feel of something hardening against her buttocks brought her to a flustered halt.

Kira panicked silently, for no doubt had she what that something was. A virgin she might be, but she was not a fool. A woman need not be a whore to know what was what in this world.

Would he possess her here and now if she vexed him? No good could come of this, to be sure. At this very real indication of what might be in store for her, fear threatened to overwhelm Kira. How often had her father threatened her with the beating of her life if a man laid a hand upon her? ‘Twould be her fault alone, she had been made to understand, and the lash a necessary punishment. A fine match did her father intend to make for her one day, a marriage that would financially assure the leisure of his days.

Only an ungrateful wretch of a daughter would steal the promise of that away from her sire.

Surely her maidenhead could not be the price he would compel her to pay her for swallowing the pearl?

Kira’s heart chilled and she felt herself begin to tremble as the possibilities became more clear. No doubt had she that a Mongol would take what he wanted, regardless of her entreaties. She felt the blood drain from her face at the realization that no explanation would suffice for her father.

His future would be destroyed and ‘twould be all her doing.

The warrior’s fingers fanned to close more resolutely around her elbow, eliminating any option Kira might have had to move farther away. She stiffened at the restriction and he grunted, though it seemed that she could no longer feel his arousal.

No time had Kira to reflect upon the matter, for his stirrups jingled and he dug his heels into the horse’s side in that same moment. The creature seemed to have been waiting only for such a sign to flee the town at a recklessly wild pace.

She shrank instinctively back against the warrior’s strength as the horse ran, certain she would be bounced loose and shattered like a doll on the ground. She clutched at the sinewy forearm wrapped around her, knowing her nails were digging into his flesh but unable to check her fear.

Her loose hair flailed around them, its binding long gone and her hood fallen away. The man behind her cursed again as Kira clung to him. He dropped the reins and she thought her heart might stop in terror. The beast ran unchecked! They would be thrown to the ground and their bones broken in a hundred places! Had this warrior not a scrap of mercy in his soul?

His freed hand swept savagely around Kira’s head, his rough thumb brushing her nape and sending an unexpected shiver down her spine as he gathered her hair and twisted its length. ‘Twas long enough that he could grip the ends in the hand clasped over her elbow. No reassurance did she take from the ease with which he accomplished his objective and nonchalantly picked up the reins again. Kira tugged against this new restraint, feeling hopelessly tethered even as she bounced precariously on her unsteady perch.

She would be jostled until everything within her was shaken loose. That was to be her fate. Powerless would she be to even stand when this wild ride was completed. Indeed, she could fairly feel the bruises rising on her buttocks already.

Her father would have much to say to her about such inappropriate behavior.

The Mongol said something to her, but she shook her head uncomprehendingly until his free hand curved firmly about her knee. No time was this for further familiarities. Kira recoiled from his touch. He repeated his command more slowly and did not release her knee, pressing the joint firmly into the horse’s side and holding it there.

He gripped the horse with his knees, she realized suddenly, glancing down to find his knees clamped against the beast’s ribs. Kira tentatively followed suit, imagining that his muttered response as he released her knee was approving.

‘Twas better! Kira fancied she had a steadier perch. Her panicked breathing slowed with the realization that she was not likely to topple to her death.

Not until she returned home to her father, at least. Her heart sank.

If indeed she lived long enough to do that. Kira sighed and stubbornly blinked back her tears.

She would not think upon her fate. She would not even speculate on this barbarian’s plans for her. Kira lifted her chin and surveyed the grassland sweeping beneath the horse’s feet.

As her heartbeat slowed, she forced herself to concede that riding a horse was not so terrifying at all. Indeed, she felt warm and secure, though certainly such feelings were completely unwarranted. ‘Twas only the fact that she could no longer see the warrior’s cold expression that allowed her to relax, sitting as she was, virtually in his lap.

Kira became suddenly aware of the strength of his thighs behind hers. That recently awakened tingle struck again with new vigor. Though his grip around her waist was uncompromising and she knew there was no escape, the warrior did not hurt her. Could he truly be as brutal as she feared? Kira looked down to his fingers wrapped so proprietarily around her elbow, hating herself for liking their tanned strength.

Who knew what those hands had done? The man was a Mongol. A barbarian.

Mayhap she was losing her mind. Certainly the jumble of emotions churning within her this day could not be sorted into any order. Mayhap the warrior was saving her hide for some other fate. Kira chilled at the thought and refused to reflect on it further.

In the distance a dark smudge grew more distinct. Kira gradually picked out the forms of horses grazing all around an apparent settlement. Gradually it became clear that the smudge across the landscape was composed of thousands of round homes. Kira had little doubt what sort of settlement they approached.

‘Twas the Mongol camp. A cold trickle of dread meandered into her stomach at the sight. What gruesome fate awaited her here?

* * *

Thierry rode directly to his own yurt, liking its welcome familiarity. The round felt tent gave him a sense as close to homecoming as he found these days.

But he would not indulge himself in another recollection of Khanbaliq. Truly he could not recall when those images had last haunted him as they did this day. But no time had he for such poignant and pointless reminiscing.

The woman had clenched up before him as the camp came into sight. Once again he stifled the urge to reassure her. Had she not tried to trick him once already? Indeed, there was no way of telling what sort of treachery was filtering through her mind even now.

A witch she was. He should know better than to trust such a lovely face.

Undoubtedly she was used to turning her beauty to her advantage. ‘Twould not work this time, Thierry reminded himself determinedly. He halted the horse with a barely audible sound and nudged his knee beneath hers. She apparently understood his intent, letting him lift her knee over the horse’s back with his.