She wished she could remember what her warrior had said first, before he had said “Constantinople.” Had it been the name of another town? Was Constantinople simply en route or was it in the vicinity of this other place? Had that been the name of a place at all?
’Twas annoying that Kira did not know and yet more so that she could not ask. She would simply have to wait and see.
The warrior’s arm flexed, shifting the weight cast across her waist, and Kira watched him sleep. He did not appear any less threatening when he slept, the line of his mouth as uncompromising as ever. She tried to imagine his lips curved in a smile, without success. At least he had claimed her for his woman and she knew that she would not be cast before the advancing army as war fodder or cast from his bed at first light.
But why had he claimed her? It increasingly irked her that he had no desire for her. As the days and nights passed, as he fed her and protected her, Kira began to feel that she was not contributing her share. She should have been giving him pleasure, at least.
’Twas impossible that he might have felt some responsibility for tearing her from her home, for he was a mercenary. That much was clear to even Kira’s inexperienced eye.
It must be that her inadequacies did not tempt him.
What would happen if another woman crossed their path who did tempt him? Indeed, what fate did he plan for her, if not as the source of his satisfaction? Surely even a Mongol man took his pleasure with his woman more frequently than this? Kira wished that she knew more of men and their ways.
Or even that she was capable of asking him for the truth.
Could the Persian woman have been mistaken? Could he be taking her to Constantinople to meet some other, even less attractive fate? Kira considered the uncompromising lines of her warrior’s features in sleep and could not imagine that ’twas so. For all his stern manner, he had shown her a kindness unexpected and she would not condemn him out of hand.
Nor would she reflect upon her fate if another woman, one who did tempt him, crossed their path. She should not worry about troubles before they came. This was her life. For now, she would take life, such as it was, and be grateful for each day.
Indeed, she had little choice.
Kira rolled out of the warrior’s grasp and listened, fancying she heard the sound of running water. How enticing ’twould be to have a bath and scrub this mire from her skin! And should she be quick about it, the men need never know.
She slipped carefully from the warm clutch of the blanket, holding her breath as she watched the warrior. He did not awaken, or else he feigned sleep so well that she could not discern the difference. He did not appear to notice her departure from his side, a fact that did little to bolster Kira’s pride. The other one snored, undisturbed.
Soundlessly, Kira unfastened the warrior’s saddlebag, surprised to find its contents meticulously well organized. She found the soap and the length of cloth, sparing a covert glance over her shoulder before she followed the sound of running water.
Thierry knew something was amiss as soon as he awakened.
She was gone. At the realization that the woman was not beside him, his eyes flew open. Nogai snored comfortably but there was not a sign of her.
His heart missed a beat.
Had another man stolen her away?
Or had she run from him?
Thierry was on his feet in a flash, the sight of his opened saddlebag prompting his frown. He squatted and checked the contents, surprised to find his soap missing.
Then he heard the running water. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief.
She was bathing again. He shook his head at the fancies of urban women and shoved to his feet. His gaze scanned the horizon as he listened and he picked out the change of vegetation at the edge of a rise. The river was there. He recalled the bronzed perfection of her skin readily, then realized that it had been too long since he had gazed upon his woman.
She would be bathing nude, he was certain of it. Thierry stared resolutely at the ground. He had made a vow. He had pledged to leave her be. How would he deny himself with her loveliness arrayed before him again?
Water splashed and he turned immediately at the sound. She might have slipped. Indeed, another could have come upon her at her leisure. Unable to check his steps, Thierry followed the sound of the water. ’Twas unsafe for her to bathe unescorted. Who knew what manner of bandits and vagabonds frequented these hills?
At the sight of his woman thigh-deep in the river and gloriously nude, he halted to stare, any potential threat forgotten. There was only the loveliness of his woman.
She was more beautiful than Thierry recalled, her skin that even golden tone, every facet of her figure delicately wrought. His desire fired with an intensity that astounded him as she bathed, completely unaware of his presence. Thierry could not move from where he stood, held captive by the sight of her.
She turned and he fairly heard her gasp when she saw him.
They both froze in place, eyeing each other warily. She vainly tried to cover her bare breasts with the small bar of soap and her tiny hands. Thierry could think of nothing but covering them with his own hands.
A moment later, he was striding down the bank with purpose, abandoning his clothes as he splashed into the water. He noted with amazement that she held her ground, but even that observation did not slow his pace. The river swirled about her hips, its water icily green, its chill sending her nipples into pert peaks. Thierry knew he had never desired a woman more, but he finally stopped a pace away from her with uncertainty.
He did not want to frighten her again. And he had vowed to let her come to him.
Thierry looked into the dark glory of her eyes, the sight of her hesitancy renewing the hold of his vow over his desire. He held out his hand for the soap and she immediately surrendered it, as though glad to abandon its burden. Their fingers brushed accidentally in the transaction, sending a jolt through him. He glanced to her eyes again, surprised to find a scarlet flush burning her cheeks.
Thierry cocked one eyebrow inquiringly and his woman became truly agitated. Her color rose impossibly higher and she gestured hastily to his arousal, her gaze dancing nervously to meet his before she averted her face.
Surely this could not be. Could his temptress doubt her own charms? Thierry lifted her chin with one finger that she would be compelled to meet his gaze. The way she swallowed beneath his touch fed the tenderness flooding within him.
She did not understand the reason for his state. He glanced down to himself, then looked to her, willing her to understand that ’twas the sight of her that enflamed him. She hastily shook her head and looked away once more.
His sweet witch. The fault was indeed hers and Thierry impulsively decided to make the matter most clear. She should understand the power she held over him. He tipped her chin once more and held her gaze for a long moment, letting his fingertip slide slowly down to her collarbone and trace its shape. Thierry let his gaze follow his fingertip, knowing all his hunger for her must be blazing in his eyes.
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, she gasped and Thierry marveled anew at the softness of her skin. He could lose himself forever in her softness and warmth, the feel of her beneath one finger loosening his resolution to keep his pledge.
His finger slid 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 unsteadil
y, 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 what other way was there to make the matter most clear?
His fingers slid over her and slid into the hair held tight by her braid, his thumb tipping up her chin before he bent and possessively kissed her. Thierry poured all of his passion into his kiss, willing her to understand her effect on him. She was magnificent; indeed, he had never seen another who fired his desire so. He wished he knew the words to tell her as much, and 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. He could not stand any more 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. He sensed the weight of her gaze upon him as he crested the small rise alongside the bank and scooped up his clothes, but dared not look back. He could not have endured the sight of condemnation in her eyes.
Thierry was back in the camp, listening to Nogai’s contented snores, before he realized he still held the soap.
Chapter 10
Kira’s fingertips rose to her lips in wonder as the warrior strode 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. With her breasts her father had called too small to nurse a babe. Had her sire not often told her that she looked much like a poorly-fed orphan? How often had she been reminded that he would be hard-pressed to find her a spouse, given her appearance? It had been ingratitude surely that had compelled her to be so unattractive as to defy her father’s objectives.
But this man desired her. ’Twas too much to be believed. Kira straightened her posture with a new increment of pride.
Perhaps she was the only female hereabouts. That thought diminished her pleasure. Kira understood that men needed a woman at regular intervals to satisfy their desires. She was the sole female of the three in their party and that no other women had crossed their path these past days.
But she could not deny 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 graceful women available. The warrior had chosen her, Kira of Tiflis, over all others. And clearly, he wanted her to know that his impulse was not regretted. Her warrior still desired her. Kira stifled a triumphant smile.
She was Black Wind’s woman, to the exclusion of all others.
Thierry’s woman. Her pulse soared.
Perhaps he thought himself responsible for her plight and had aimed only to right the wrong.
Perhaps. But that argument was less persuasive after the incendiary kiss he had just granted her. Kira touched her lips once more and felt another thrill. Indeed, she understood him perfectly.
Her warrior wanted to bed her again. The red flush on the back of his neck as he stalked away should remove all doubt.
But why had he left? Was it not the Mongol way to simply seize one’s desire? Kira shook her head and rinsed her skin. The man was a riddle. If he wanted her, he might have taken her by force many times by now.
He had pleasured her the last time he had touched her, not himself. Kira froze to consider that. It made no sense. She frowned and strode to the bank, picked up her clothes and began to dress.
Suddenly she recalled his manner with the wild horses on the plain. She saw him again, standing silently and waiting for the skittish horses to approach him.
His choice was immediately clear. The warrior was waiting for her to make a sign that she wanted him. The conclusion was inescapable and Kira smiled in delight. He would make no move without her encouragement.
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 be waiting for her to indicate that she wanted him?
The realization that she was in control of their mating was nigh overwhelming. Kira did not know what she would do. Did she want him? She scarcely knew, though when he touched her as he just had, she could think only of having more. She recalled the weight of his hands upon her skin and the fullness of him within her and shivered in anticipation.
Could the deed be more pleasurable with practice?
Could she be so bold as to choose to mate with him again?
She stood, awed that he granted her a choice.
That alone made her want to welcome his touch again.
But how would she convey her choice to him? Could she be bold 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. That audacious gesture had not sufficed. She was uncertain she could 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. It might be a pragmatic choice.
She crested the rise to find him watching a pot on the fire with a decidedly disgruntled air, and could not dismiss the conviction that she had read him aright. A lightness buoyed Kira’s heart that he would leave her alone while she considered her options.
She had time aplenty to decide while they rode. And should she decide that a coupling was what she desired, Kira would find some way to tell her warrior.
To tell Thierry.
The setting sun turned the domes and spires of Constantinople to burnished gold, making the city look 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 that were just appearing overhead.
Thierry nodded 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 the gates 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 daunting as he did. She would appreciate the small luxuries to be found within the city walls, though, and he found himself spurring his horse onward that they might find an inn yet sooner.
“If I did 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 amiss in that?”
Nogai snorted. “These town folk will not tolerate our camping right outside the gates,” he scoffed. He surveyed the city and gestured off to their right. “There is a fine rise there to shelter us from the wind.”
“I make no camp this night,” Thierry insisted.
Nogai’s startled expression made him aware of his unusual choice. W
as it so unthinkable that he should desire some comfort?
“Surely you cannot mean to enter the city?”
Thierry could but nod. “Aye.”
“And stay there?” Nogai dropped his voice to an incredulous whisper.
Thierry nodded again.
Nogai swore in disbelief and Thierry felt his lips thin in irritation.
“The woman makes you soft,” Nogai accused.
Thierry swiveled and glared at his friend. “You know that she cannot tell me her desires.”
Nogai sniffed. “She is from Tiflis,” he said with a sneer. “It does not take a soothsayer to guess that she would prefer some foul inn in town.”
“I intend to take no foul accommodations,” Thierry argued, but Nogai simply laughed.
“All inns are foul, by their very nature,” he retorted. “Filled with vermin of all orders and ripe with the mingled scent of many men. ’Tis disgusting to sleep in such close proximity with others, without the bite of the wind in your nostrils and the whisper of the grasses in your ears.”
“’Tis warmer there,” Thierry replied. He had heard such odes to nomadic life too often to be charmed. It was a hard life and he tired of its demands.
“Warmer?” Nogai echoed. “Perhaps, but at what price? The air is filled with scent: meat and smoke and skin and incense and dozens of unnamed smells wrought from the decadence of men living such entangled lives.”
“An inn does not smell worse than a full yurt.”
“But you would be amidst strangers,” Nogai hissed. “’Tis unthinkable to mingle thus with those who share no blood.”
Thierry shrugged. “You and I are not kin.”
Nogai simply smiled. “To be anda is no small link,” he argued. “We are sworn sword brothers and you know that is as strong a link betwixt us as blood.”
“Then you should have no trouble in sharing a room in an inn with me,” Thierry countered.
Nogai recoiled in horror. “Inside the gates? Surrounded by townsfolk?”
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