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Authors: Pearl Beyond Price
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spilled the entire story. Thierry had been asked for naught but affirmation, which he could not deny.
Witch. Already had she turned his life on end. Was she at the root of this new uncertainty stalking him? Had Abaqa changed his mind about Thierry in truth, or did he simply continue to toy with Thierry? And if Abaqa had changed his mind, had the witch somehow contrived the change? Did she take retribution for her captivity?
The thought was more than unsettling. Witchcraft or not, her very presence had undermined the security of his position within the tribe, just as he had feared. Women meant vulnerability in a culture where all pursued their own interests alone. ‘Twas as simple as that.
Mayhap ‘twas time enough he gave up this vagabond life. After all, the Mongol strain was but a quarter of what coursed through his veins.
The unexpected thought caught Thierry completely off guard. He actually considered the possibility for the barest instant before discarding it with disgust.
What nonsense was this? No other life had he. Khanbaliq tempted him, but he resolutely pushed that recollection aside, as well. Naught was there for him in Khanbaliq, even if he chose to ride across the width of Asia to return to that town.
This was his life. This was the path he had chosen. And the labor of his years was destined to bear fruit, sooner or later. Thierry could feel it. Mayhap it had been too soon when the old khan died, but he was young enough to wait out Abaqa’s reign. And continue to consolidate his support while he waited. Leading a tümen on the morrow was but the first step. No interest had Thierry in casting all aside now for what amounted to no more than whimsy.
More nervous must he be about this battle than he had thought.
Thierry shoved open the tent flap in poor humor. The wan moonlight was enough to show that the woman was not only awake but watching him warily. What did she expect of him? he thought irritably. He trudged into the yurt and squatted down to light the brass lamp. Had she not tried to deceive him? Was she responsible for his woes? When the flame flickered to his satisfaction, Thierry swiveled without standing and silently returned her regard.
Was that relief he had briefly glimpsed in those dark eyes?
It helped his resolve not a bit that the golden lamplight seemed to heighten her soft femininity. The position her bonds had forced her to take showed the ripe curve of her hips to advantage from where he crouched. Her skirts had pulled up almost to her knees, leaving her feet and calves temptingly bare. Thierry fancied he could discern a hint of more private treasures in the shadows of her skirt. Her hair was cast loose over the cushions, dark and thick. He well recalled the smoothness of it between his fingers, and he shoved to his feet with a determined grunt.
Not for him was this.
He bent and untied her ankles with swift gestures, ensuring that he did not touch her flesh. Was it truly as soft as it appeared? His curiosity tempted him but he would not indulge himself.
She immediately straightened her legs, stretching with a wince. Thierry refused to acknowledge a nudge of guilt at the marks on her skin. She would not play on his sympathy so readily, he told himself, knowing without doubt that looser bonds would only ensure that she escaped.
Her movement revealed that she did wear chalwar, and he cursed his mind for the tempting images it had contrived. Naught could he have seen of anything. Clearly the woman’s very presence was addling his wits.
Witch.
He untied her hands and she rubbed her wrists but once before she rolled and sat up. The motion brought her in such close proximity that Thierry could smell the sweetness of her skin. The teasing scent fairly undid all of his resolve to leave her alone. Her hands leaped to the knot in the scarf that gagged her when he did not immediately untie the knot.
She hesitated, her eyes lifting reluctantly to his. Well could a man drown in the
Witch. Already had she turned his life on end. Was she at the root of this new uncertainty stalking him? Had Abaqa changed his mind about Thierry in truth, or did he simply continue to toy with Thierry? And if Abaqa had changed his mind, had the witch somehow contrived the change? Did she take retribution for her captivity?
The thought was more than unsettling. Witchcraft or not, her very presence had undermined the security of his position within the tribe, just as he had feared. Women meant vulnerability in a culture where all pursued their own interests alone. ‘Twas as simple as that.
Mayhap ‘twas time enough he gave up this vagabond life. After all, the Mongol strain was but a quarter of what coursed through his veins.
The unexpected thought caught Thierry completely off guard. He actually considered the possibility for the barest instant before discarding it with disgust.
What nonsense was this? No other life had he. Khanbaliq tempted him, but he resolutely pushed that recollection aside, as well. Naught was there for him in Khanbaliq, even if he chose to ride across the width of Asia to return to that town.
This was his life. This was the path he had chosen. And the labor of his years was destined to bear fruit, sooner or later. Thierry could feel it. Mayhap it had been too soon when the old khan died, but he was young enough to wait out Abaqa’s reign. And continue to consolidate his support while he waited. Leading a tümen on the morrow was but the first step. No interest had Thierry in casting all aside now for what amounted to no more than whimsy.
More nervous must he be about this battle than he had thought.
Thierry shoved open the tent flap in poor humor. The wan moonlight was enough to show that the woman was not only awake but watching him warily. What did she expect of him? he thought irritably. He trudged into the yurt and squatted down to light the brass lamp. Had she not tried to deceive him? Was she responsible for his woes? When the flame flickered to his satisfaction, Thierry swiveled without standing and silently returned her regard.
Was that relief he had briefly glimpsed in those dark eyes?
It helped his resolve not a bit that the golden lamplight seemed to heighten her soft femininity. The position her bonds had forced her to take showed the ripe curve of her hips to advantage from where he crouched. Her skirts had pulled up almost to her knees, leaving her feet and calves temptingly bare. Thierry fancied he could discern a hint of more private treasures in the shadows of her skirt. Her hair was cast loose over the cushions, dark and thick. He well recalled the smoothness of it between his fingers, and he shoved to his feet with a determined grunt.
Not for him was this.
He bent and untied her ankles with swift gestures, ensuring that he did not touch her flesh. Was it truly as soft as it appeared? His curiosity tempted him but he would not indulge himself.
She immediately straightened her legs, stretching with a wince. Thierry refused to acknowledge a nudge of guilt at the marks on her skin. She would not play on his sympathy so readily, he told himself, knowing without doubt that looser bonds would only ensure that she escaped.
Her movement revealed that she did wear chalwar, and he cursed his mind for the tempting images it had contrived. Naught could he have seen of anything. Clearly the woman’s very presence was addling his wits.
Witch.
He untied her hands and she rubbed her wrists but once before she rolled and sat up. The motion brought her in such close proximity that Thierry could smell the sweetness of her skin. The teasing scent fairly undid all of his resolve to leave her alone. Her hands leaped to the knot in the scarf that gagged her when he did not immediately untie the knot.
She hesitated, her eyes lifting reluctantly to his. Well could a man drown in the
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