Pearl Beyond Price

by Claire Delacroix

  “Aye, little Kira. You do know what I mean. Make no mistake: Black Wind has claimed you for his woman.”

  Black Wind. Was that what “Thierry” meant?

  Kira turned to the other woman. “How do the Mongols say ‘Black Wind’?”

  The woman looked surprised, then smiled. “Qaraq-Böke,” she said, much to Kira’s confusion. That was so harsh in contrast to the name that the warrior had given her.

  Surely he could not have told her the name he had refused to confide in any other?

  “There is no other way to say it?” she demanded.

  The woman shook her head quickly, confusion lighting her eyes. “Nay, Kira. He is called Qaraq-Böke. If you are afraid to insult him, would you say it to me first?” she asked. “You should be aware that a slight inflection can change the meaning of a word in their tongue. I would not have you err in saying his name when all seems to be progressing so well.”

  Kira smiled and glanced toward her warrior as the surety of her conclusion flooded through her. “I will not insult him,” she murmured with newfound confidence. She gave the other woman an impulsive hug. “I fear we are leaving and would wish you good luck,” she said. The other woman looked surprised, but Kira waved and hurried away. “Thank you!” she called before turning to her warrior and granting him the same sunny smile.

  For Kira had no doubt that her warrior had confided in her his real name. And that was more a sign that he had claimed her for his own than anything the Persian woman might have told her.

  He turned to watch her approach, his sight landing unerringly on her, just as she had expected. Kira’s pulse echoed in her ears and she stifled her jubilant smile as she hurried across the grass to his side.

  He had told her his name after but a few days. And these people had known him years without learning his true name. Indeed, that could only be a good portent of things to come.

  Something had changed in his woman’s assessment of him, though Thierry could not guess what ’twas. He puzzled over it as he saddled his horse in the misty rain, well aware of her complacency as she stood beside him. She seemed calmer than earlier and he risked a covert glance in her direction to find her expression patient.

  Surely a woman would fuss over the foul weather? But, nay, she merely stood and watched him work as though she would learn the task.

  What game did she play with him now? Did she mean to steal a horse and escape him in the night? The idea that she might never come to him had shaken Thierry more than he was certain it should have. He spared her a glance and she met his gaze pertly.

  Then she smiled.

  Thierry spun back to his task, his fingers fumbling with the horse’s trap. Indeed, the woman would make him mad with her incessant changes of mood. He could not foresee what she might do or how she might respond. He was not accustomed to finding any soul unpredictable and the change troubled him.

  Her response had been predictable when he had awakened her in the night, though he could not have expected her passion. And truly, had he troubled to reflect upon the matter, he might have anticipated the way she had recoiled after their mating.

  But how or why had she ended up in Abaqa’s camp again? He wondered again why she had not remained in Tiflis. There was a puzzle. And what had originally given her the audacity to openly defy him, a Mongol, in her father’s shop?

  He spared another covert glance her way. It did not help matters that the garb he had obtained for her accented her figure. Even without the padding in her chalwar, her hips were delightfully rounded and her waist small enough that he longed to fold his hands around her.

  She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with pleasure, and Thierry’s heart fairly stopped.

  He felt the scowl darken his brow as he abruptly turned back to the horse’s harness. At least she had not done that sooner, for the sight was fetching and distracting. He recalled her laughter when he had tickled her foot in the khan’s yurt. Thierry swallowed and fastened the last strap on the harness.

  Suddenly he found himself markedly less certain of his ability to keep his vow.

  He gestured to another of his horses and then to her, making a mock riding movement. Her eyes widened and she looked from the saddled horse to the unbridled one in momentary confusion. She pointed to him with one slim finger.

  Thierry pointed to himself and laid one hand on the saddle. The horse stepped sideways, anxious to be on the run. His woman pointed to herself tentatively and Thierry pointed to his horse, then the other and shrugged.

  “Tiflis?” she asked.

  Thierry shook his head firmly, surprised that she did not seem disappointed by the news.

  “Paris,” he informed her, but her expression did not change.

  Perhaps she had not heard of the Frankish city.

  “Constantinople,” he said, hoping she knew the name of that city.

  The way her eyes widened revealed that she was familiar with the town, and the way she hastily laid one hand on his saddle beside his showed that she had an awareness of the distance. Aye, he could imagine that she did not want to ride all that way alone with her uncertainty of horses, but he had had to offer the choice.

  For the sake of his vow, if nothing else.

  Thierry glanced down and was struck again by the difference in size between their hands lying so close together on the red leather saddle. He deliberately tore his glance away from her small hand and met her eyes.

  “Constantinople?” she asked, pointing to him, then herself.

  Any fear she had shown of him seemed to have dissipated rapidly, along with any sexual interest in him. Had he not ensured she was pleased? How long would she force him to endure the haunting scent of her skin? How long could he endure her proximity without the barbarian within him bursting forth once more?

  When Thierry nodded in response to her question, she pointed inquiringly to Nogai, then to all the horses, and he nodded once more. She chewed her lip for an instant, firing his desire to taste her anew. Evidently unaware of her impact on him, she patted the embroidered saddle once more and indicated herself.

  “Constantinople,” she said with a decisive nod.

  So be it. Thierry nodded and swung up into his saddle. He gave in to his impulse and gripped her around the waist when he leaned down, savoring the fact that his hands virtually encompassed her as he lifted her into the high saddle behind him.

  The cursed witch smiled at him again before he managed to turn away.

  Had the other woman told her something?

  If so, what?

  Thierry knew he called more hastily to Nogai than was his custom, the proximity of his woman troubling him as they rode out of the sleeping camp.

  The ride did nothing to improve Thierry’s mood.

  Their lack of a common tongue irked him more than it ever had and he found frustration chafing at him as they rode west. It was too tempting to have her ride behind him, every step of the horse sending her breasts pressing against his back. It seemed to Thierry that he could feel the imprint of her nipples, though ’twas impossible through all the layers of clothes between them.

  He refused to ride at a slower pace in deference to her unfamiliarity in the saddle or the weather. He had a mission from the khan and no woman would hinder his path. The assertion sounded like an excuse even to Thierry, but he rode on determinedly, even as the rain soaked them to the skin. This was his life, a mercenary’s life. She had chosen to be with him—now she would see the fullness of the path she had taken.

  They stopped only once to let the horses drink from a river. To Thierry’s astonishment, the woman did not complain. She merely offered a slightly more tired version of her smile when he climbed into the saddle again. ‘Twas impossible that she was not uncomfortable. Indeed, his own wet garments were chafing.

  But nay. She simply brushed her wet hair out of her eyes and slipped her arms cautiously around Thierry’s neck when he lifted her high. It did not help his frustration one iota that she was apparently per
fectly content with both her choice and his denial of his own needs. The wave of possessiveness that shot through him had him placing her before him in the saddle on impulse. Nogai smothered a smile, but Thierry refused to indulge his friend’s humor.

  They stopped for the night when the moon was high overhead. The rain had slowed to a fitful drizzle and the woman stirred sleepily when Thierry dismounted. The gently rolling land extended as far as the eye could see in every direction and he frowned that they would have to stop in such an open place. At least the horses could readily graze.

  Her eyes opened and she met his gaze with less than her usual clarity of vision. Thierry folded his hands together and dropped his cheek to rest on one as he had once before. She smiled yet again, a softly seductive and sleepy smile that sent a startling pang directly through him. She slipped from the saddle like a woman in a dream, folding her arms about herself and shivering slightly as she glanced around.

  “Perhaps we should kindle a fire,” Thierry suggested.

  Nogai laughed. “Oh, aye, as we always do,” he jested.

  Thierry felt his neck heat at the reminder that they seldom kindled a fire except on nights of dire cold. Which this one was not. Already he was more than fully aware that ’twas the woman’s presence that prompted his suggestion. Still, he did not appreciate Nogai reminding him of that fact.

  ’Twould be civilized to warm themselves on such a damp night. Indeed, ’twas only sensible to ensure none of them sickened on the long path to Paris, lest the khan’s message go undelivered.

  “’Tis a cold enough night to merit one,” he snapped, only too aware of her gaze upon him.

  “Certainly,” Nogai agreed with mocking deference. “I would not have you catch a chill at your sport this night.” The shorter man turned to dig his tinderbox from his saddlebag, shooting a bright glance over his shoulder. “That is, unless the shaman spoke aright and you have nothing with which to make your sport.”

  Thierry bit back a retort, gritting his teeth as he unfastened his horse’s saddle. Such a comment deserved no response. Nogai chuckled to himself and Thierry felt his ears burn, so certain was he that the woman looked between the two of them in confusion.

  He lifted the saddle to the ground, dropping the saddlebags alongside. With a quick gesture he unfolded a blanket from one pack and cast it over the saddle, beckoning to the woman without meeting her eyes and patting its seat. She immediately did his bidding, a fact that pleased him more than he thought it should have. He folded the blanket around her with a brusque gesture, not waiting to see whether she smiled or not.

  “Oho, surely the place of a woman has changed now that you have taken one,” Nogai taunted. “Should she not be tending to our needs, instead of the other way around?”

  Thierry remained stubbornly silent while he removed the rest of the horse’s harness, setting the beast free to run with its companions.

  “She is tired,” Thierry argued, guessing that Nogai would not leave the matter alone.

  “And we are not?” the other man demanded. Despite his protest, he dropped to his knees and began to rummage in his tinderbox. “If you spoil her now, you will have no chance of having her do your bidding later. Soon enough you will weary of her charms and wish she was doing all, as other women do.”

  Thierry’s lips thinned as he passed his friend a pair of fagots from his pack.

  “’Tis not the way of my kin to leave the women do all,” he muttered.

  Nogai looked up at him in astonishment. “Your kin?” he demanded with interest. “I have never heard you speak of your kin afore.”

  “And now you have,” Thierry replied.

  What had prompted him to speak of personal matters with Nogai? He had never even mentioned his family; indeed, none of the Mongols knew his true name. The woman he had told already. Thierry slanted a wary glance in her direction, not in the least reassured by that realization. Why had he confided in her?

  He frowned and gestured pointedly to the unlit tinder. “Are we to have a blaze this night or not?”

  Nogai’s brows rose, but he said nothing else as he struck the flint. An awkward silence settled between the pair of them, a silence curiously strained for all the times they had sat together wordlessly on the plain.

  They made hot tea to accompany the yogurt and flat bread they carried, though the meal was consumed in silence. The rain made the fire sputter and smoke. Though Thierry knew his friend was curious, he could not speak of Khanbaliq and what he had left behind.

  This woman was reminding him of matters best forgotten. Perhaps that was the root of her sorcery.

  “Perhaps the fire was not such a good idea,” he conceded when it died to smoke yet again. Nogai’s grin flashed opposite him before he sobered.

  “The wood will do us for another night,” he agreed quietly. Thierry smiled in turn, reassured that his reticence had not offended his friend. Nogai winked and jerked his head toward the woman. “Should you wish your sport this night, you had best be quick about it. She looks on the verge of sleep.”

  Thierry glanced to his woman in time to see her stifle a yawn, and barely checked a smile from curving his lips. He would have no sport this night, nor indeed any other, without her express consent.

  But there was no need for Nogai to know that. Thierry agreed and kicked out the fire, spreading his second blanket on the damp ground before coaxing the woman to lie down. She curled up immediately within the wool, then spared him an inquiring glance. Thierry did not know how to tell her ’twas up to her whether he joined her or not, so he simply stood and held her gaze.

  Finally she shivered with exaggerated tremors and reached out one hand to pat the expanse of blanket behind her. Thierry needed no second invitation, his anticipation firing as he dropped behind her. He thanked his lucky stars that he had not had to endure the waiting much longer, astonished when she did not unfurl her blanket to welcome him against her warmth.

  To his surprise, his woman cuddled up against him and made a sound of satisfaction much like a contented purr before she closed her eyes. Thierry regarded her in amazement, knowing she could not be feigning the way her breathing slowed in sleep.

  Nogai’s smothered chuckle did little to ease his annoyance. Thierry hauled his cloak and the end of the blanket over himself in dissatisfaction, telling himself that ’twas his imagination alone that she smiled against his shoulder in her sleep.

  The woman grew increasingly more comfortable in Thierry’s presence as they drew nearer to Constantinople, though she did not show any signs of planning to invite him between her thighs once more. Indeed, she cuddled against him on the third night as though his presence was no more threatening than that of an indulged family pet.

  He was tempted not to sleep with her at all, but he could not deny her his warmth. The nights were growing colder and she was small. When he felt her shiver, something nameless within him prompted him to ensure she did not become ill.

  His response was a far cry from what he expected from the independent barbarian he knew he had become. Was it possible she was awakening all that was not Mongol within him? The return of such tender feelings did not sit well with Thierry, especially when the woman granted him no touch to assuage his own needs.

  The proof of the shaman’s ignorance kept Thierry from sleep. This desire without release kept him snared within her web, be it a trap of sorcery or simply her soft femininity.

  His vow irked him, but he would not break it. Only the certainty that the woman rode with him because of her fear of the horses kept him from touching her again in the night. ’Twas clear she did not possess the confidence to ride alone, should she be given a choice.

  Perhaps for the sake of his vow he should give her a choice. As though she sensed the direction of his thoughts, she wriggled closer and sighed with contentment. Thierry gritted his teeth at the invitingly ripe curve of her buttock pressed against his thigh.

  She treated him like some cursed lapdog, not a Mongol warrior.


  For a tempting moment he half considered a dramatic act to show her the error of her ways, but the soft sound of her breathing brought him up short. She was already asleep and he did not have the heart to awaken her, no matter what fire burned within him. Thierry folded his arms behind his head and stared into die fathomless indigo of the night sky.

  Lapdog. He fairly snorted at the thought. She had been shocked when they had coupled before the others. Perhaps he should shock her again. Nogai was not much of an audience, but he would do. She was small enough that she would not be able to keep him from his goal, were he truly set upon it.

  She rolled over and the fall of her delicate fingers on his tunic brought all such thought to an abrupt halt.

  Thierry stared down at her, unable to quell his satisfaction that she showed signs of trusting him. And there was the matter of his vow. Not to mention his own desire to love her tenderly and gently when next they mated.

  Even if it killed him, he must grant her the opportunity to come to him.

  And well it might kill him if she persisted in smiling at him with such maddening sweetness, but going no further.

  Nogai began to snore with characteristic relish. The woman burrowed into the warmth of Thierry’s shoulder and he stared unseeingly up at the stars, wishing she would come to him soon.

  Very soon.

  The warrior was sleeping when Kira awakened. She remained nestled against him as she watched the sky turn pink to greet their fourth morning of travel. Her buttocks ached from their ceaseless riding and she felt filthy beyond compare, but at least she was warm. And the rain had stopped. Kira was relieved that her clothes were finally drying and vowed she would never take such simple comforts for granted again.

  How long until they reached Constantinople? Indeed, she had little idea how far the great city was, even from Tiflis, let alone what kind of pace they made. And why were they going there? What would happen when they arrived? She had no clue and she stifled her curiosity once again.