Stolen Brides: Four Beauty-and-the-Beast Medieval Romances

by Claire Delacroix

  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?”

  Thierry nodded.

  “Why would you do this thing?” Nogai asked. “I have never known you to turn your back on the plain when there was a choice.”

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

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

  This last pricked Thierry’s pride. “What do you mean by that?”

  Nogai snorted. “I think the woman makes another woman of you,” he charged.

  The air was silent between the two of them for a long charged 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 and in comfort.”

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

  “Better than I will on the ground with winter in the wind,” Thierry retorted.

  Nogai’s horse galloped up beside him. “Next will you be wanting a bath more than once a year,” Nogai said with disgust.

  “Perhaps you should consider the same,” Thierry snapped.

  Nogai drew himself taller. “That is thinking more like that of townsfolk than tribesman.”

  “And no less valid for all of that.”

  “It seems that you are not the man I have ridden beside 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. “Perhaps ’tis but the greater part of my heritage asserting itself,” he said fiercely. “And it seems time for it to take precedence. Have I not become a barbarian in putting half my lineage aside all these years?”

  “You have become a Mongol,” Nogai insisted. “It is the better choice for a man who would survive.”

  But Thierry no longer believed that. He saw that the price of following this path might be the loss of his comrade, and wished it might have troubled him more.

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

  “Do not expect me to seek you out within the town,” Nogai called after him, 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 Nogai made his camp.

  Kira did not know what to think when the warrior’s companion turned his horse away from them and galloped toward 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 only the horse they rode. Where was he going? He did not look back, and though Kira understood the two men had exchanged angry words, she could not help but wonder what had transpired.

  Why had they come to Constantinople?

  What did the warrior intend to do now that they had arrived?

  Did his companion disagree with his choice?

  More importantly, what did the warrior intend to do with her? Too late, Kira regretted not inviting him between her thighs again, for she had not defended her value to him. There had been no real opportunity, though, for there had been no privacy. A covert glance at his set features gave her no reassurance and she could not help but fret anew about her fate. It would be too easy for him to abandon her here. She tried to control her concern as they passed under the shadow of the city gates.

  The warrior seemed to know his destination for he did not hesitate. Did he mean to be rid of her immediately? Did he head for the slave market that she might bring him some ready coin? One so small as she would not fetch much of a price, although the thought perversely pleased her. Should he 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 heard Persian trip from the boy’s tongue, but before she could think of replying, he had moved on.

  The exchange was made in the warrior’s tongue until the boy abruptly shouted a summons into the building. A portly man filled the doorway a moment later, his manner efficient as he negotiated with the warrior.

  Kira had no need to guess what was being negotiated. ’Twas insulting to be treated thus, though she supposed she had been a fool to expect more. The loss of her innocence had undoubtedly only dropped her value.

  If indeed the warrior had seen fit to confide that fact.

  It was easy to guess the retaliation that the truth would bring from this portly man, or perhaps his customer, on the morrow. Kira’s back was barely healed, but she had little doubt ’twould soon be bleeding once again.

  To think she had been fool enough to trust this barbarian warrior. Kira gritted her teeth and pulled forward, leaving some distance between the two of them. What had her lack of resistance netted her? Nothing but speedy delivery to the house where she would be doomed to slave the rest of her days, in one manner or another.

  Curse him.

  And curse her rising tears of disappointment. She was the fool for expecting more.

  A bargain of some kind was struck hastily, leaving Kira surprised that the heavy man had not demanded to examine her before his purchase. Perhaps he bought her only for domestic tasks. Kira told herself to be relieved by that.

  She had no doubt that she had just been sold, no less that there was nothing she could do about it. Her face flamed as she dismounted before the warrior to enter her new prison.

  She would not look to the barbarian who had committed this indignity. She would not grant him the satisfaction
of seeing her disappointment. Why had she been so foolhardy as to hope for more than her due?

  To Kira’s astonishment, the warrior dismounted and cupped her elbow in his hand. He guided her into the house, the portly man stepping back from the doorway and granting them a paternal smile. Kira’s certainty faltered briefly before her suspicions redoubled.

  He was only seeing her to her quarters. No doubt he expected she would grant him some sweet leave-taking, but Kira had a surprise for this Mongol. He might have sold her, there might well be nothing she could do about the completed transaction, but she would not fall prey to his rough charm yet again.

  They climbed the wooden stairs to the second floor and Kira’s confidence slipped yet another notch. No servant or slave slept upstairs, at least not in Tiflis. She shot a wary glance at her companion, only to find him watching his step. The older man bustled up the stairs behind them, his incomprehensible chatter flowing over Kira as the warrior did not respond. His grip remained warm on her elbow and the first doubt appeared in her thoughts.

  But why else could they be at this place? He meant to leave her and ride back to his friend. There could be no other reason.

  The warrior ducked into a room on the right with a frown tugging at his brows, his gaze assessing as he surveyed the room’s contents. The other man trotted around them and struck a flint to light a lamp. The flame flickered wildly for a moment then settled, suffusing the room with golden light.

  ’Twas a fine room and Kira could not argue otherwise. ’Twas larger than any she had ever known. There was a wide window overlooking a quiet courtyard, a different one from the one they had entered, and surprisingly sweet night air wafted through the opening. Though the pillows stacked in one corner were showing their age and worn in spots, Kira thought them the most lavish she had ever seen. The floor was tiled and swept clean, nothing else but a table and that lamp in the room.

  Surely these fine quarters could not be for her.

  The warrior nodded and the two men exchanged a few terse sentences. Kira braced herself for his departure—and any appeal he might make beforehand. Her heart plummeted that she would be alone. She could not insist, even to herself, that her reaction was due to the state of the home to which she had been sold. Indeed, the portly man looked kindly.

  ’Twas the thought of the warrior leaving her that troubled Kira, and the realization of her reliance upon him troubled her yet more. She had grown accustomed to him, against all odds, and she knew she would miss the weight of that silent perusal upon her.

  Indeed, were she being truly honest with herself, she knew she would miss more than that.

  Kira glanced through her lashes to the warrior, just in time to see him dig in his tunic and hand the other man several coins. Her eyes flew open in shock, yet the older man smiled as though nothing was amiss. He tucked the coins into his own purse, waved cheerfully and trotted out the door. She heard him whistling as he descended the stairs.

  Kira was dumbfounded. What had transpired? She could not have been sold, for the warrior had paid. Could this be an inn? Had he purchased accommodation that he might abandon her here? Kira spun to confront him, only to find his assessing gaze upon her once more. ’Twas as though he waited for her response and for the first time, his silent survey thoroughly irked her.

  “What do you do here?” she demanded, knowing full well that he had no understanding of what she said but needing to voice her frustration. “Why have you brought me here? Who is that man? What manner of establishment is this? And what is going to happen?”

  The warrior regarded her for a long moment, then closed his eyes and rested his cheek on his palm in a gesture she recognized well enough.

  Sleep.

  “But who is sleeping here?” she asked tersely, pointing to him and to herself rapidly. She threw up her hands in confusion and a frown flickered across his brow. He indicated Kira, the pillows in the corner and repeated the gesture. Kira frowned in turn.

  “And what about you?” she asked. “Do you truly intend to leave me here alone?” He returned her questioning glance blankly and Kira sighed. She pointed to him, mimicked his sleep signal and waved broadly to the world at large.

  The warrior pointed resolutely at the same pile of cushions and Kira’s breath caught in her chest at the heat in his eyes.

  He meant to share her bed here.

  “And the other one?” she asked breathlessly. “Where is he to sleep this night? Will he be watching like the others were before?” The warrior propped his hands on his hips and Kira knew he had not understood her question. She made a riding motion, then pulled back the corners of her eyes with her index fingers in a mimicry of the other warrior’s features.

  She thought for a heartbeat that her warrior almost smiled but the impression was gone so quickly that she knew she had been mistaken.

  “Nogai,” he said and she assumed ’twas the other one’s name,

  “Nogai,” Kira repeated, adding the sleep gesture and shrugging. The warrior pointed out the window. Kira fancied he indicated the hills beyond the city walls. He added a terse explanation but she knew not what he said. It mattered little, for she understood the situation well.

  Indeed, she could not keep the heat from her cheeks. She could not bear to ask him the question that filled her thoughts, and looked down to the tile floor in confusion. Did he mean that they should couple here this night? Had she but imagined that he had granted the choice to her?

  The warrior rummaged in his pocket, his movement drawing Kira’s reluctant eye. To her surprise, he produced a pearl. He rolled the gem between his thumb and forefinger as he caught her gaze. They stared at each other for a long charged moment, and when he finally beckoned, Kira could not have refused him to save her life.

  The room was warmer than she had realized, the sounds carrying from the rest of the house muted to her ears as though they were a world away. Indeed, it seemed once again that there was only the two of them in the whole of the civilized world. The warrior’s eyes gleamed as Kira slowly closed the distance between them, leaving her feeling as helpless as a fish on a lure drawn ever closer.

  She paused before him and he held the pearl up between them without averting his gaze. He rubbed the thumb and forefinger of his other hand together and Kira understood his question.

  He desired a value for the pearl. She glanced at the gem for the first time and frowned. Was this the gem she had swallowed?

  Kira looked up to find an unmistakable twinkle in the warrior’s gray eyes. He made an exaggerated swallowing gesture, then pointed to her. Evidently intent on ensuring she did not doubt that ’twas the same pearl, he flattened his palm between them as he had repeatedly asked for the gem and dropped the pearl into his own palm with a dramatic flourish.

  ’Twas the same pearl.

  Kira reached for the gem to value it, then remembered both where it had been and how she had to assess it first. She tapped her own lips and winced anew as she indicated the pearl. Kira could have sworn the warrior’s mouth curved in a smile, but before she could be sure, he had bent over his saddlebags.

  A tin cup was pressed into her hand as he pulled the cork from a wineskin with his teeth. Kira recognized the smell of the qumis as soon as it was opened and shrank back, certain she need never taste that substance again. Despite her reservations, the warrior poured a little into the cup and dropped the pearl into the alcohol. He lifted the cup from Kira’s hand, swished the gem around, then tipped the cup toward her.

  The pearl glistened from its repose and Kira knew ’twas as clean as it was like to be. She plucked it out of the liquid and slipped it onto her tongue. She closed her eyes and let the flavor of the qumis slide away as she concentrated on the cleaned gem.

  ’Twas sweet, was all she had time to think before the warrior’s roughened hand closed around her neck. Kira’s eyes flew open and her gaze leaped to his, only to find that twinkle dancing in his eyes. He tightened his grip ever so slightly in mock menace and cocked a warni
ng brow.

  ’Twas a joke.

  Indeed, it had to be, though the man had never made a joke in her presence before. The telltale crinkling at the corners of his eyes confirming her suspicion. Kira giggled unexpectedly at this glimpse of his nature and he wiggled his brows with vigor. She was completely unable to check her laughter when his eyes widened dramatically and his grip tightened with mock threat. She laughed aloud and the pearl fell from her lips.

  The warrior made some charge over his shoulder as he ducked in pursuit of the gem.

  Kira shook one finger at him, unable to completely quell her smile. “’Twas your own fault for teasing me so,” she accused him. The corners of his mouth tweaked and he shot her a telling glance as he straightened. Then he sobered with feigned tolerance, sending a mock scowl of disapproval in her direction as he dropped the gem into the qumis and swirled it around once more. He shook his head, as though severely plagued by the whimsies of women.

  Kira swatted him before she thought twice.

  She saw only a glimmer of the purposefulness in those silver eyes before he dropped the tin cup and reached for her. Kira squealed and ran, making it no more than halfway across the room before she was abruptly scooped off her feet. She laughed again as the warrior easily spun her around into his arms, her laughter fading only when she was looking up into his gleaming eyes.

  Kira fell abruptly silent. The warrior’s tentative smile fled. His fingers fanned out as he held her closer, his gaze running over her features as though he would memorize every detail. Kira caught her breath at the admiration she saw there, knowing that it could not be feigned. The warrior leaned toward her, then hesitated, his silver gaze rising to hers.

  The choice was hers.

  That was the most seductive detail, and there were many.

  Kira reached up to twine her arms around his neck. ’Twas all the encouragement he needed and she was folded against his strength before she knew what she was about. His lips were gentle upon hers, firm yet cautious, as though he feared she would rebuff his advance. Kira opened her mouth and leaned against him. She could not have denied his tender assault for any price.