Claire Delacroix (18 page)

She shivered beneath his perusal, but did not move away.

His fingertip lovingly slipped over the full curve of her breast, outlining the dark circle of one areola with what he hoped was evident admiration. The nipple tightened, the woman gasped and Thierry marveled anew at the softness of her skin. Well could he lose himself in her softness and warmth, the feel of her beneath one finger loosening his resolution to keep his pledge.

His finger slid tantalizingly lower, tracing a lazy pattern back and forth over the silhouette of each rib. Thierry leisurely encircled her navel with that feather-light touch, pausing to tap that enchanting mole but once. His gaze fell to the dark tangle of curls and he knew his stamina could not bear the test.

Should he touch her there, he would be lost.

Thierry flattened his hand instead and caressed the silky curve of her hips with his palm. He nearly closed his eyes in pleasure as his fingertips rolled over the smooth indent of her waist. He exhaled unsteadily, never having anticipated that such a slow and simple gesture could ignite him so fully, and dared to meet her eyes once more.

Disbelief shone in those dark depths and Thierry could not understand the sight. Could she truly doubt that she aroused him beyond compare? But one other way was there to make the matter most clear.

His fingers slid over her and abruptly speared into the hair held tight by her braid, his thumb tipping up her chin as he possessively kissed her. Thierry poured all of his passion into his kiss, willing her to understand her effect on him. Magnificent she was; indeed, he had never seen another who fired his desire so. He wished he knew the words to tell her so, hoped that his urgency would be communicated by his kiss.

Thierry’s heart pounded when his woman tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned against him to taste him more fully. The casual brush of her nipples against his chest was enough to drive him to distraction, but he willed himself to keep a slow pace. He pulled her yet closer, cradling her head in his palms as he deepened his kiss. To his complete astonishment her tongue mimicked the gesture of his and nudged against his teeth.

The tentative flicking of her tongue made Thierry doubt he could control himself. He felt himself press against the softness of her stomach and heard himself groan aloud.

‘Twas too much that she should kiss him thus when he had made such a vow. No more could he stand without the assurance that she would come to him fully. Indeed, he only fed his own madness by touching her thus. The embrace had to stop.

Determined to keep his word, Thierry tore his lips from hers and turned to stalk out of the water, blind to everything before him. Only the weight of her gaze upon him did he sense until he crested the small rise alongside the bank and scooped up his clothes.

He was back in the camp, agitatedly listening to Nogai’s contented snores, before he realized he still held the soap.

K
ira’s fingertips rose to her lips in wonder as the warrior disappeared from sight.

‘Twas not possible. She quivered inside with that same tension he had roused in her before. But the evidence he had given her was undeniable.

The man desired her. Her. Kira of Tiflis with her scarred back and ridiculously childlike body. With her breasts her father had called too small to nurse a babe. Had her sire not oft told her that she looked much like a poorly fed orphan? How often had she been reminded that he would be hard-pressed indeed to find her a spouse? Ingratitude it had been surely that had made her grow up in such an unattractive fashion to challenge her father’s objectives.

But this man seemed to desire her. ‘Twas too much to be believed. Kira straightened her posture with an unfamiliar measure of pride.

Mayhap she was simply the only female hereabouts. That thought eliminated her pleasure. Well enough had Kira heard that men needed a woman regularly to satisfy their desires. ‘Twas evident that she alone was female of the three of them and that no other women had crossed their path these past days. She nibbled her lip thoughtfully, unable to suppress the argument that came immediately to mind.

No denial could she make of the heat burning in the warrior’s eyes when he looked at her. Nor could she deny that he had claimed her in the camp, over all the other more amply endowed and more graceful women. Kira the warrior had chosen alone. Kira of Tiflis, over all the other women there. And clearly, he wanted her to know that that had not been an impulse regretted. The warrior still desired her. Kira allowed herself a brief flicker of pride and stifled a triumphant smile.

She was his woman, Black Wind’s woman to the exclusion of all others.

Thierry’s woman. Her pulse filled her ears at the heady reminder of his confidence.

Mayhap he had claimed her that she might have protection alone, she reasoned, still unable to accept what her heart told her was the truth. Mayhap he had thought himself responsible for her plight and aimed only to right the wrong.

Mayhap. But that argument’s power was naught in the face of the incendiary kiss he had just granted her. Kira touched her lips wonderingly once more and permitted another thrill to trip along her veins. Indeed, she well enough understood what he was trying to tell her when he pressed against her.

Her warrior wanted to bed her again. Should she have had any doubt of that fact, the red flush rising on the back of his neck as he stalked away would remove all doubt.

But why had he left? Was it not the Mongol way to simply take what one wanted? Kira shook her head and rinsed her skin, reasoning that had the warrior wanted her, he might have taken her many times by now. She must have misunderstood him.

But he had simply pleasured her that last time he had touched her. She halted and considered that. No sense did it make that he could desire her and not take her again. Kira frowned and strode to the bank in his wake, absently picked up her clothes and began to dress.

Suddenly Kira recalled his manner with the wild horses on the plain and froze mid-gesture. She saw him again, standing silently and waiting for the skittish horses to approach him.

‘Twas immediately clear to her. The warrior was waiting for Kira to make a sign that she wanted him. The conclusion was inescapable and Kira smiled in delight. No move would he make without her encouragement.

No barbarian way was that and her heart warmed at his consideration. Could he have understood her dismay after that first mating? Could he have shown her pleasure that she might understand ‘twas not all pain?

Could he truly be waiting for her to indicate that she wanted him?

The very thought was both dizzying and intoxicating. Kira knew not what she would do.
Did
she want him? She scarcely knew, though when he touched her as he just had, she could think of naught but having more. She recalled the weight of his hands upon her skin and the fullness of him within her and shivered in anticipation.

Could she be so bold as to choose to mate with him again?

But how would she tell him what she wanted, if indeed another mating was what she wanted? Could she be audacious enough to show him without the fortifying strength of the
qumis?

Clearly, touching his lips with her tongue was not enough, for she had done that moments past and he had left. Kira bit her lip, certain she had been bold beyond belief in making that gesture, but it had not sufficed. She knew not whether she could summon the nerve to do more; indeed, she was not certain she wanted more, but her heart was pounding when she climbed the rise and made her way back to camp.

Surely if he did desire her, mating with him again would better ensure that he not cast her aside. Kira frowned as she considered the wisdom of that and wondered if she was making all of this out of whole cloth. Could she have read more into his behavior than was warranted?

She crested the rise to find him watching a pot on the fire with a decidedly disgruntled air, and could not dismiss the thought that she had read him aright. A lightness buoyed Kira’s heart and she acknowledged a sense of relief that he would leave her alone while she considered her options.

Consider them she would, for time aplenty had she to think while they rode. And should she decide that a coupling was what she truly desired, some way would Kira find to tell her warrior.

To tell Thierry, she corrected herself, and found herself smiling once again as she stepped toward the makeshift camp.

* * *

The setting sun turned the domes and spires of Constantinople to burnished gold, making the city look yet more exotic than even its reputation. Beyond the walls of the city the Bosphoros shone like indigo silk, reflecting the golden light of the setting sun. Lights gleamed from the windows of homes within the town, the bright pinpoints echoing the stars just becoming clear overhead.

Thierry sighed with satisfaction that they had made it this far before nightfall. They would reach the city gates with adequate time to enter the city before they were locked for the night. A hot bath, a hot meal, a firm straw pallet before the fire were all he wanted this night.

And the softness of his woman curled before him. She sat silently now, but he felt her awe and wondered if she found the size of the city as overwhelming as he did. Well would she appreciate the small luxuries to be found within the city walls and he found himself spurring his horse onward that they might find an inn yet sooner.

“Did I not know better, I would think you rode to the very gates of the city,” Nogai commented. Thierry shot his companion a telling glance.

“What would be wrong with that?” he asked.

Nogai snorted. “Well you know that these town folk will not tolerate our camping right outside the gates,” he scoffed. He lifted his nose to the wind and gestured off to their right. “A fine rise is there to shelter our camp from the wind this night.”

“I make no camp this night,” Thierry said calmly. Nogai’s startled expression made Thierry writhe inside. Was it so unthinkable that he should desire some comfort this night?

“Surely you cannot mean to enter the city?” Nogai demanded skeptically.

Thierry could but nod. “Aye.”

“And stay there?” Nogai dropped his voice to an incredulous whisper. Thierry nodded again. Nogai swore in eloquent disbelief and Thierry felt his lips thin in irritation.

No crime was it to not want to sleep on the cold ground again.

“‘Tis the woman making you soft,” Nogai accused unexpectedly. Thierry swiveled and glared at his friend.

“Well you know that she cannot tell me her desires,” he retorted.

Nogai sniffed. “From Tiflis is she,” he said with a sneer. “No soothsayer does it take to guess that she would prefer to stay at some foul inn in town.”

“I intend to take no foul accommodations,” Thierry argued, but Nogai simply laughed deprecatingly.

“
All
inns are foul, by their very nature,” he scoffed. “Filled with vermin of all orders and ripe with the mingled scent of many men. Disgusting ‘tis to sleep in such close proximity with others, without the bite of the wind in your nostrils and the sound of the waving grasses in your ears.”

“Warmer ‘tis there,” Thierry interjected, having little interest in Nogai’s ode to nomadic life. Often enough had he heard this particular piece of poetry to be warned of its charms.

“Warmer?” Nogai demanded archly. “Mayhap, but at what price? Filled with scent is the air, such that a man might fall dizzy in confusion. Meat and smoke and skin and incense and dozens of unnamed smells wrought from the decadence of living such entangled lives.”

“No worse than a full yurt does an inn smell,” Thierry argued.

Nogai raised one brow. “But amidst strangers,” he hissed. “‘Tis unthinkable to mingle thus with those who share no blood.”

Thierry returned his friend’s skeptical expression. “No kin are you and I,” he felt obliged to point out, but Nogai simply smiled.

“To be
anda
is no small link,” he argued. “Sword brothers we are sworn to be, and well you know that ‘tis as strong a link betwixt us as blood.”

“Then no trouble should you have sharing a room in an inn with me,” Thierry countered reasonably.

Nogai recoiled in horror. “You cannot mean to sleep within the walls of the town?” he demanded again. Thierry nodded and Nogai’s lips thinned as the argument grew more serious for him. “Why would you do this thing?” he asked scornfully. “Never have I known you to turn your back on the plain when there was a choice.”

That assertion rang annoyingly true in Thierry’s ears but he drew himself up taller. “A warm bath would I have this night and a hot meal in my belly.”

Nogai’s eyes narrowed. “Hot tea have we had almost every night,” he observed in a low voice. “And the ground is soft enough to service a man’s needs.”

This last pricked Thierry’s pride and his response sounded colder than he had intended. “What mean you by that?” he asked coldly.

Nogai snorted. “Methinks the woman makes another woman of you,” he charged. The air was silent between the two of them for a long moment, then Thierry spurred his horse onward.

“Sleep on the plains like a dog if you will.” He cast the comment over his shoulder. “I would sleep soundly this night.”

Nogai muttered something deprecating under his breath before he spoke clearly enough for Thierry to hear. “And how would you sleep soundly amidst whores and thieves?” he challenged.

“Better than I would on the ground with the bite of winter in the air,” Thierry retorted hotly. Nogai’s horse galloped up beside him and Thierry glanced to that side to find his friend’s features distorted in scorn.

“Next will you be wanting a bath more than once a year,” he taunted. Thierry felt his eyes blaze in anger.

“Mayhap you should consider the same,” he snapped. Nogai drew himself up with affront.

“Thinking more like that of townsfolk than tribesman is that,” he declared savagely.

“And no less valid for all of that,” Thierry retorted coldly. Nogai’s lip curled in a sneer.

“Well it seems that you are other than the man I have ridden with all these years,” Nogai accused. “Man and Mongol both was he, but you show signs of becoming soft. No doubt ‘tis the result of cosseting a woman better left to clear the paths for the army.”

Something clenched within Thierry’s gut at that and his tone was harsher than any he had used with Nogai before. “Mayhap ‘tis but the greater part of my heritage asserting itself,” he concluded fiercely. “And well it seems time for it to take precedence. Have I not become a barbarian in putting it aside all these years?”

“You have become a Mongol,” Nogai stated flatly. Thierry shot him a cold glance.

“Aye. ‘Tis exactly that of which I speak,” he said quietly. “Sleep in the grass if you will. I would seek the warmth of shelter from the elements this night.”

“Expect me not to seek you out within the town,” Nogai called after him stubbornly, but Thierry did not grace him with a reply. With the length of time that had passed since Nogai had last bathed, Thierry was certain he could find his
anda
by smell alone no matter how far afield he made his camp.

Kira knew not what to think when the warrior’s companion veered his horse away from them and galloped into the low hills outside the city walls. His terse whistle had the other horses running in pursuit of him, leaving Kira and her warrior with naught but the horse they rode. Where was he going? Never did he look back, and though Kira understood the two men had exchanged angry words, she could not help but wonder what had come to pass.

And of what import was it that they had reached Constantinople? Why had they come here? What did the warrior intend to do now that they had?

More importantly, what did he intend to do with her? Too late, Kira regretted not granting him access between her thighs again, for it seemed she had not guarded her value to him well by making that choice. No reassurance did a covert glance to his set features grant her and she could not help but fret about her fate. Too easy would it be for him to abandon her here. She fidgeted restlessly before him as they passed under the shadow of the city gates.

It seemed the warrior knew his destination well and that fact did naught to reassure Kira. Did he mean to be rid of her immediately? Did he make for the slave market that she might at least bring him some ready coin? One so small as she would not fetch much of a price, Kira warranted sourly, the very thought perversely pleasing her. Should he so heartlessly cast her aside, ‘twould suit her well that he saw little gain from the transaction.

But instead, he rode his horse into the courtyard of what looked to be a domicile. Darkness had fallen and the light of lanterns gleamed through the arched windows, casting shadows into the whitewashed yard.

A young boy came and gripped the horse’s reins, offering greetings in a rapid sequence of languages until the warrior responded. Kira fancied she heard Persian trip from the boy’s tongue, but before she could be sure, he had moved on.