Pearl Beyond Price

Chapter 2

Tiflis—between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea—October 1265

Tiflis—between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea—October 1265Thierry suspected the pearls were counterfeit.

He rolled the gems across his palm under his would-be ally’s watchful eye. He wished he could either dismiss or justify his concern. The pearls looked real enough, but a glimmer in the other man’s eye had triggered Thierry’s suspicions.

And once active, his suspicion was not readily dismissed.

’Twas true that there were a goodly number of the gems in the velvet sack he had been offered as tribute, all of it gathered in just half a day. He eyed the ivory spheres, hoping the other man merely thought he was assessing the value of the offering.

In truth, he supposed he was.

It was no salve to his pride to be treated as Abaqa’s runner, even after all these months, and he fought his increasingly familiar annoyance. He was still required to fetch tribute, to know all the while that the quantity and value of each offering was considered a reflection of his own loyalty. Thierry gritted his teeth and let the gems play in his palm.

The pearls caught the light and indeed they gleamed with the luster of true pearls. This observation only gave Thierry a grudging admiration of the counterfeiter’s skill.

The townsman chosen to negotiate with them emitted a little laugh into the silence, drawing the gaze of both Thierry and his old companion Nogai. “Surely such an expensive gift is adequate.” The scholar translated the man’s words immediately after he spoke, the townsman’s agitation a contrast to the scholar’s soft conviction.

The four men virtually filled the small chamber, though the two townsmen managed to leave an eloquent space between themselves and the two Mongols. The comment prompted Thierry to give the man a slow and thorough perusal.

He struggled to keep his lip from curling at the softness of the man the town revered as their leader. The flesh was loose around the other man’s middle, and the pallor of his hands made him look almost feminine. Still worse, there was fear in his gaze. This was a man? A leader? One entrusted to negotiate the town’s safety? ’Twas almost too much to be believed.

Thierry was always surprised by the men chosen by these merchants and townsfolk as leaders. This man could swing no blade; he had no knowledge of summoning and dispatching troops; he had no ability to defend his town.

Those failures explained the presence of Abaqa’s army camped outside the town walls and Thierry’s arrival to collect tribute.

Thierry let his eyes narrow and watched the man’s agitated response with interest before once more looking down at the gems cradled in his palm. Undoubtedly this was a shrewd tradesman who could more than adequately govern his people under normal circumstances.

A man who likely thought he could outwit simple barbarians.

“We shall see soon enough if the gift is adequate,” he said, savoring the guttural sounds of the Mongol tongue. It was an admirable language for issuing threats, and that alone made him glad to have learned it. The townsman shuddered at the sound, even before he knew what Thierry had said.

The scholar Thierry had pressed into service translated his words and the townsman blanched. Nogai chuckled and the other man recoiled slightly, though he tried to hide his terror. His glance darted once more to the little velvet sack. Thierry spared the man an intent look as he tucked the sack into his tunic, watching until he swallowed nervously.

Counterfeit, beyond doubt.

Thierry considered the idea of taking retribution now for the insult, his gaze steady on the other man while he debated the merit of a swift response. But ’twas better to leave such a task to Abaqa, for he would relish it more than Thierry.

Thierry held the townsman’s gaze. Fear grew in those eyes as the other man’s imagination evidently conjured tales of Mongol retaliation.

A reputation was not necessarily a liability in these matters.

The man’s gaze flicked to Nogai as though he expected the pair of them to fall immediately upon him, but Thierry turned silently on his heel. He strode back out into the sunlight, the scholar and Nogai in his wake. He sensed rather than saw Nogai leer at the town leader before he followed.

Thierry considered the twisting street, carefully gazing in first one direction and then the other. The agitated man he had left behind was forgotten as he planned his next move. His own survival in Abaqa’s camp had to be ensured, first and foremost.

“We should return to camp,” Nogai suggested.

Thierry only shot a sharp glance in his direction. “Not yet.”

Nogai folded his arms across his chest. “Why ever not? Surely you have not forgotten that we ride to battle tomorrow? This is but another whimsical test of Abaqa’s, and already we have spent too much time upon it.” He waited with obvious anticipation, but Thierry merely shook his head again.

“We are not yet done.” He ignored the anticipation in the eyes of his anda.

anda.A pearl merchant was what they needed.

A tribute of false pearls would not be good for the town leader’s health, nor indeed that of the town, should Abaqa discover the forgery. However, Thierry knew that it could also bode poorly for his own longevity and this interested him above all.

If he could expose a forgery before it created undue embarrassment, his usefulness would be assured.

For now.

Thierry took a deep breath and discerned that the souk was to the right. He gave no explanation to either of his companions before he strode in that direction, leaving them to hurry in his wake.

soukKira frowned at the bowl of pearls her father had left her before his departure to Constantinople. Naturally, he had not granted her the task of sorting the pearls without a smug smile.

So my daughter fancies herself worthy of becoming a pearl merchant.

So my daughter fancies herself worthy of becoming a pearl merchant.Kira could hear his mocking tones as clearly as if he stood beside her, and she winced yet again at the memory. She would not cry. She had not cried when he beat her and she would not do so now. Did she not have the opportunity she had wanted?

Then prove yourself. Tell me where they are from.

Then prove yourself. Tell me where they are from.She could still see him as he taunted her from the door. His condescending smile had told her that he had no doubt she would fail.

But she would not fail. Kira set her lips. Here was her chance to finally prove herself worthy of her father’s love. She could be as worthy as a son and aid in his business: triumph in this task could only prove that fact.

notShe would succeed.

wouldKira knew there was still much she needed to learn, but she knew something of use. Her father had granted her no advantage in teaching her only his native Persian, insisting that language be the sole one spoken in their home. She knew that as a merchant, he conversed easily in half a dozen tongues. Even Persian, reputed to be universal, could be insufficient even within Tiflis itself.

Despite that handicap, Kira would prove herself. She was determined to do so. And this was the first necessary step.

Her father would have included some pearls of ambiguous origins. Indeed, ’twould not have been much of a test otherwise. She had already picked out the obvious forgeries, but she knew what her punishment would be if she made a single mistake.

There were hundreds of gems. Kira took another handful of pearls and slipped a half dozen of them into her mouth.

Salt. She spat the first one into the brimming bowl of pearls she had already determined to be from the Red Sea. It made good sense that there were more of them mixed into the batch, as they would fetch less at market.

Salt and salt again. Two more joined the bowl, then two less salty, but still saline.

The last pearl she rolled around with her tongue, wanting to be sure before she decided. A pearl merchant’s reputation could be shattered by the selling of lesser pearls as better ones and she wanted to be cautious.

Definitely sweet, she concluded with conviction. Definitely from Oman. The pearl joined a mere handful reposing in the second dish of sorted pearls.

Perhaps she was getting better at this. She had been quicker with that mouthful. Feeling more optimistic, she put another half dozen pearls into her mouth.

A guttural declaration drew her gaze to the doorway, where sunlight flooded into the stall from the market. A man’s tall frame blocked the light. Kira was unable to make out his features in the shadows yet found herself curiously aware of the weight of his gaze upon her.

Evidently her silent reaction was not the expected one. He repeated whatever he had said the first time, his tone tinged with impatience.

Kira had no idea what he said so she did not know how to respond. She stood up, achingly aware of her short stature before the towering man. How would she explain that she could not do business until her father returned if she did not speak his tongue?

“Where is your father?” another voice demanded in familiar Persian.

Kira looked past the massive man to find a well-known but concerned face. “Johannes,” she said with mingled relief to see the scholar. Johannes could speak more languages than even her father and would be able to translate for her.

The forgotten pearls beneath her tongue fell from her mouth when she spoke. Kira gasped as they tumbled to the ground and scattered across the floor. They glimmered in the shadows and rolled away to hide in the corners.

Kira cursed herself, bending hastily to retrieve the gems. She felt her color rise.

In the same moment that she fell to her knees, the tall man muttered something that could have been a curse and took a hasty step backward.

Another male voice protested and Kira confirmed with a quick glance that there was a third man behind the tall one. He was considerably more agitated than his companion. He gestured to the fallen pearls, his hasty words similarly incomprehensible—though he said much, much more.

Kira hastily gathered the errant gems before they were lost. She returned them to the bowl of unsorted gems and straightened, only to find all three men regarding her with solemnity. The hairs pricked on the back of her neck. Kira looked to the tall man as he seemed to be the leader. His expression was suspicious.

Why?

Kira studied him, undeterred by his stern countenance. He was heavily tanned or else darker of skin than she, his expression uncompromising. His shoulders were broad, his forearms heavily muscled, his strong legs planted against the dirt floor like veritable tree trunks.

Kira imagined he would be about as easy to move as a firmly rooted tree. She had little doubt he earned his way as a mercenary of one kind or another. He was garbed in a rough manner unfamiliar to her, although his blue tunic, while as dirty as his dark blue trousers and heavy boots, was unexpectedly trimmed with gold embroidery.

Fear flickered within her but she refused to indulge it. Who were these men and what did they want? She met the steely glint of suspicion in his eyes, something about his very stillness making her wish he had bypassed the stall. The normally garrulous Johannes spared a quick glance to the tall man in much the same manner as one would regard an unfamiliar and potentially vicious dog.

Kira considered the third man, and his Asiatic features made her heart still. He had a pointed goatee and thin mustache, unlike his companion, who was clean-shaven. Both men wore their hair tied back tightly and bound into a braid, but the shorter man’s distinctively narrow eyes fed Kira’s fear.

It could not be, she told herself, even as she realized Johannes was watching the two foreigners with care. Kira shivered in recollection of the rumors she had heard the day before, the ones she had tried to forget, and willed herself to hold her ground. She had always hidden her fear from her father. She would show no fear to these strangers, even if they were Mongols.

Kira swallowed and squared her shoulders. “My father has gone to Constantinople, so the stall is not open for business,” she explained to the scholar. The raw fear that transformed the older man’s features startled her and she flicked a glance at the impassive warrior.

“Nay, nay, nay.” Johannes wrung his slim hands before himself. “This is not good, not good at all.”

The tall man barked something short but incoherent that was clearly a demand. Kira’s trepidation rose as Johannes responded quickly in kind. The third man’s dark eyes were bright in the shadows as he watched and listened

“What is this about?” she demanded, her uncertainty making her speak more sharply than was her custom.

The tall man’s eyes narrowed and he spoke tersely to Johannes. The way he surveyed Kira sent reluctant color rising over her cheeks.

She was not that sort of woman.

notKira lifted her chin and boldly held his gaze. She knew that her heavy draped and hooded djellaba thrown over her high-necked kurta was demure beyond even the local custom, and that her full chalwar trousers hid all but her ankles from view. She had no need to tempt the glances of men in town, for that, too, bore the price of her father’s lash.

djellabakurtachalwarWas it amusement that briefly flickered in his eyes? Kira dismissed the notion, knowing that a sense of humor would not be an attribute of this rough warrior. Indeed, she had not found it an attribute of men in general, unless they jested at another’s expense.

“He wants to know when your father will return,” Johannes translated.

Kira shrugged. “He left just last week,” she confessed, incapable of averting her gaze from that scrutinizing gaze. “His journey will require no less than a month.”

The warrior nodded curtly, perhaps having understood the gist of her response from her gesture. He barked an order at Johannes.

The scholar raised imploring eyes to Kira. “He needs some pearls valued immediately for the Mongol khan,” he whispered.

Kira felt her eyes widen. Mongols. ’Twas true, then. Her gaze flicked back to the third man with his characteristically Eastern features.

When the Asian man grinned wickedly, Kira inhaled sharply and looked at the tall man again. He was watching her with that unnervingly silent scrutiny.

Kira took a slow breath as she came to terms with Johannes’ revelation. The rumors of the Mongols being camped outside the walls were all true, then. She had no need to study the two men more closely to know that they would slaughter anyone who did not do their bidding. ’Twas all part of their daily business, she had little doubt.

No wonder Johannes was terrified.

But she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

Kira endeavored to look confident of her own abilities. She had no intention of abandoning Johannes to this pair. “I can give him a rough value of the gems,” she offered, the strength of her voice surprising her. Johannes translated her words and Kira took a deep breath, willing her heartbeat to slow. Truly she hoped that she could fulfill this task.

And her father thought that he had left her a test of her abilities. Kira licked her lips as the warrior slowly slid a small pouch from his tunic. Could she do this? In truth there was little choice now. The warrior spoke directly to her. Kira was forced to meet his compelling gaze once more, though she did not understand his words.

he“He says that the way pearls drop from your lips when you speak is a sign you can be trusted,” Johannes supplied.

Kira swallowed, knowing that she did not dare reveal the truth of what he had misinterpreted. She reached for the bulging velvet pouch, startled at the jolt that tripped over her skin when the warrior’s rough fingertips brushed hers.

His skin was warm.

Suddenly Kira was aware of him in a much more intimate sense than she would have preferred. The unexpected contact and the faint waft of his musky scent awakened something within Kira that would have been better left slumbering.

She snatched the bag and backed away, hating that he smiled a little at her move. Curse him for presuming to guess her thoughts! She had no flattering impressions of a barbarian warrior.

Kira glared at the tall man. “This will take time.” She forced herself to continue even when that jaw hardened with displeasure. “Perhaps you could return later.”

’Twould be impossible to concentrate under this scrutiny. Kira wanted this man out of her father’s stall. She felt agitated as she never had before and told herself ’twas the man’s very stillness that troubled her. The way he watched every move so impassively, without seeming to even blink, was unnatural.

Her heart sank when Johannes’ voice faded, his translation not even complete before the warrior shook his head with conviction. He bit out something that Kira had no trouble recognizing as a recrimination or a threat or both. She felt her cheeks heat again. ’Twas too much to have him question her honesty.

“I have no intention of cheating him and you had best make that clear,” she told Johannes tersely. “This is an honest house. ’Twill be easier for me to concentrate on the task without supervision.”

A flurry of Mongol followed her words and again the warrior shook his head, deliberately settling himself onto an inverted oil vessel that her father had abandoned in his packing. He braced his elbows on his knees, looking even more immobile than he had before, and growled one last comment.

“He says you will have to become accustomed to him,” Johannes supplied in a small voice. Though his words came as no surprise to Kira, her heart took an unsteady lurch as she met the warrior’s resolute gaze.

Fine. She dropped the sack of pearls on the table. The sooner the pearls were assessed, the sooner he would be gone.

And a good riddance ’twould be.

She was annoyed, of that there was little doubt. Thierry found the unexpectedness of her response amusing. He was accustomed to fear, but disgruntled surrender was an entirely new reaction.

What a beauty she was, even in sour temper. Those full lips had tightened. The soft gold of her complexion was now tinged with a more ruddy hue. She cleared her table brusquely of other gems, the expression in those wide dark eyes as mutinous as the set of her full lips.

For all of that, though, she did his bidding. Thierry supposed a less perceptive man than himself would have been fooled, but he saw every hint of her displeasure. That such a small and feminine creature would even consider defying him was as fascinating as it was unprecedented. Thierry could not help but study her.

Though she refused to glance in his direction, Thierry knew she was aware of his regard. The color in her cheeks did not fade and she glanced his way at intervals, perhaps when she thought he was not looking at her. He had no intention of averting his gaze. He leaned back against the wall, fingering the hilt of his blade.

What manner of woman spewed pearls from her mouth when she spoke?

That was a puzzle, but no less of one than her response to him. Why was she not terrified? Certainly the thin scholar had made it clear that he was Mongol. Fear had lit her eyes, telling Thierry that she was well familiar with their reputation. But she had not recoiled in the manner of other soft urban women, the ones who had seen nothing of life as he knew it.

What kind of woman would have such audacity? A Mongol woman, certainly, but this woman’s delicate features gave no hint of Eastern blood.

She must be a witch. Arcane powers would give any person confidence, even one of small stature. Indeed, ’twas good that Thierry had guessed her game, for he would need to guard himself against her sorcery. He would not so much as blink.

His suggestion that she might cheat him if left alone seemed to have offended her. That aroused Thierry’s curiosity. Surely these town people did not expect foreigners to trust them?

Or perhaps she simply disliked that he had guessed her intention so early.

“Perhaps you should have the pearls assessed back at camp,” Nogai suggested.

Thierry did not have to look to know the path his anda’s thoughts had taken for he heard the implication in his tone. Though the woman’s garb was cut full, ’twas clear enough that she was small and shapely. He felt an uncharacteristic surge of annoyance at his old companion’s appetites.

anda’s“They will be assessed here,” he said, then was irked by Nogai’s knowing chuckle. Thierry felt the other man lean closer, anticipating that his next words would be for his ears alone.

“Are you not tempted?” Nogai whispered mischievously.

Thierry did not acknowledge the taunt, but continued to stare resolutely forward. He was not tempted. Women did not tempt him. Ever. They were a distraction he could not afford.

not“You should be, for she is a tasty morsel, indeed.”

Thierry struggled not to bristle.

When his words still garnered no response, Nogai dropped his voice yet further. “Perhaps I should sample her myself.”

“Nay!” Thierry spoke more harshly than he intended.

The woman glanced up in alarm, her startled expression making him consider apologizing.

Apologizing? ’Twas only the soft folk of Khanbaliq and other courts who apologized to women. Urban folk. Thierry tried to summon a sneer. A Mongol would not apologize. He held her startled gaze for a charged moment, then her color rose and she turned abruptly away.

He was a Mongol these days. He owed nothing to this woman but all to his tribe. Thierry recalled the way the pearls had fallen from her lips. And the tingle she had launched over his skin when their hands had accidentally brushed.

“She is a witch,” he murmured, as much to remind himself as anything else.

To his completely unwarranted relief, Nogai’s manner cooled. The scholar drew himself up taller as though he took insult at the charge. One cold glance from Thierry silenced any protest he might have made.

“Touch her not,” Thierry added.

“Nay,” Nogai agreed. He even took a wary step backward, granting the woman more space. “There is no telling what price she would extract for that deed.”

The woman’s gaze flicked between the men. Clearly she sensed that they discussed her and just as clearly she did not know what they said. All three men remained silent, even the scholar refusing to clarify the charges for her. The woman’s lips thinned in annoyance and Thierry almost smiled.

Smiled? First he wanted to apologize, then he wanted to smile. Surely his wits were addled this day. Thierry scowled instead. ’Twas the witch and her sorcery that did this to him. She spun away from the table and carried a broad vessel back into the shadows.

Where was she going? Thierry panicked and jumped to his feet to pursue her.

For his obvious suspicions, he earned a scathing glance from the lady in question, one that halted him in his tracks. Thierry almost chuckled at her indignation, but she pivoted to turn her back upon him again. The ripe curve of her buttocks were outlined when she bent to scoop water from an urn and he heard himself catch his breath in admiration.

Nogai made a sound under his breath that Thierry alone seemed to hear. She was even more shapely than he had guessed and Thierry’s mouth went dry. How long had he been chaste? In this moment, he was certain it had been an eternity.

hadShe propped the brimming clay bowl on her hip as she turned to bring it back to the table. The further evidence of the slender curves fed Thierry’s awareness of her. He almost wished he had been able to adopt his tribesmen’s penchant for simply taking whatever they desired.

He had come for the value of the pearls and no more. Once he had that information, he would return to the khan’s camp. With Nogai. Abaqa would have his tribute from Tiflis, such as it was, and they would ride to battle on the morrow.

He watched the woman settle the bowl on her worktable. Her hands were long-fingered and graceful for all their delicate size, though Thierry did not know why he noted such a detail.

’Twould be ridiculous to undermine any of his aspirations for what could be no more than lust. Abaqa might not thrive as long as his father, and Thierry might soon have the opportunity to achieve his ambition. No woman was worth jeopardizing all of that.

She moved quickly, casting the pearls into the vessel of water so suddenly that Thierry was caught by surprise. He stepped forward in alarm, too late to intervene, as the contents of the velvet pouch sank to the bottom.

A trick! And he had been too distracted to anticipate her move!

Nogai swore. He lunged forward in the same moment as Thierry. The two of them towered over the woman as she glanced up in astonishment. Thierry peered into the water, his anger flaring when he realized he could not see the pearls.

They were gone! He had failed.

The vessel had a false bottom. He cursed his own stupidity in letting his baser instincts cloud his normal caution. But he would not grant Abaqa an easy victory.

The woman’s eyes widened when Thierry hauled his blade from his belt. She looked startled, then incredulous to find the unsheathed blade beneath her nose. She met his gaze, her beautiful dark eyes filled with confusion. Thierry hated his inexplicable urge to reassure her.

Was she not deceiving him and stealing from him? Did that not grant him the right to take her life? Why then did he have this urge to console her?

“Tell him that this is the best way to find forgeries.” She spoke hastily to Johannes, but the translation made Thierry frown. He watched as she indicated the orbs that rose to float on the surface of the water. More and more of them bobbed into sight as he stared.

She said something else, and the scholar’s quick translation sparked Thierry’s interest. “You have been tricked.”

The woman plucked the floating “pearls” from the surface of the water as Thierry watched. Before he could intervene, she offered them to him with a dismissive gesture that told Thierry all he needed to know about their authenticity.

They were counterfeit. He had been right, but she had proven it. He acknowledged her skill as he looked at the “gems,” lowering his blade but not yet putting it away.

were “Counterfeit,” Nogai breathed. Thierry felt his friend’s regard upon him. “You suspected as much before we even came here?” he demanded admiringly. Thierry nodded, watching the woman to see what she would do next. “City dwellers,” Nogai sneered as he shook his head. “Surely they cannot think we would let such an insult pass?”

“The matter is best left to Abaqa,” Thierry said.

Perhaps he had misjudged the witch’s intentions. She flicked a glance at him and flushed in a most attractive way. Thierry’s gaze dropped to her lips. She licked them and desire raged to life within him.

Thierry frowned and averted his gaze. He filed the false gems carefully in a separate pouch so that Abaqa might be shown the fullness of the insult. He peered into the depths of the bowl with curiosity, all too aware of the woman’s sweet scent. The water had cleared and Thierry counted ten pearls nestled together in the bottom.

’Twas obviously a magic trick of hers to be able to so easily sort the wheat from the chaff. Though he knew not the means of her sorcery, Thierry respected the result. She pushed up a sleeve to reveal a slim forearm and scooped the remaining pearls from the base of the bowl. Was her skin the same honeyed shade everywhere? The question was more intriguing than it ought to have been. Thierry abruptly held out his hand to claim the meager spoils, uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts.

To his complete astonishment, she put the gems into her mouth.

Nay! She meant to swallow the only part of the tribute that was valuable!

Rage filled Thierry, rage with himself for being so foolish as to trust a stranger. He dove across the narrow table separating them. The vessel of water toppled. The woman made an incoherent sound of surprise and stepped backward, but Thierry was quicker.

His hands locked around the slim length of her throat with practiced ease. The water splashed over their feet. The scholar shouted in dismay. Nogai swore yet again, but Thierry had no time for qualms.

He could not let her swallow the pearls.

That one conviction filled his thoughts even as he noted the softness of her skin beneath his hands. The woman’s eyes opened even wider as his grip tightened. He noted with some satisfaction that fear had finally claimed her. He flexed his fingers so they would not slide over her silky skin of their own accord.

She had tricked him!

The witch choked and spat a half dozen pearls to the floor, tears filling her dark eyes as still she coughed. Out of the corner of his eye Thierry noted that Nogai retrieved the gems.

There had been ten pearls in the water. Thierry was certain of it.

Four were still unaccounted for and he intended to wait them out.

He gave the woman a little shake and she made a gurgling sound deep in her throat. Furious that she had so deceived him and might expire with the gems inside her, Thierry released her throat and slapped her back hard.

Another pearl leaped to the floor.

Three more! He smacked her shoulder blades once more when she still choked, ignoring the older man’s fervent and useless prayers. A second gem made the jump, rolling across the dirt. Finally a third gleamed as it fell from her lips. The woman drew a shuddering breath and cleared her throat slowly, wiping her tears as Thierry glared at her.

There was one more.

When she spoke, he would have the last pearl. His eyes narrowed at the look of outright hostility she shot at him. Traitorous witch! He gripped her shoulders that she might not bolt, lifted a hand before her and waited.

“You stupid fool!” She spat an insult he had no interest in understanding. Thierry stared at her full lips, his disbelief growing when no gem dropped from them. He frowned at her tirade even as the older man translated, the indisputably angry words flowing over him unheard.

He could not doubt her meaning, for her brown eyes flashed with fury as she wagged a finger beneath his nose. “Look what you have done with your meddling!” she charged.

She was angry? Thierry inhaled slowly when the scholar’s translation revealed that she believed he was at fault.

ShePerhaps she was annoyed that he had foiled her plan. Otherwise she might have had nine more pearls.

His lips set grimly. She had no right to the khan’s tribute. She had not been insulted by his earlier charge that she meant to cheat him: she had simply been annoyed that he had guessed her intentions. He had been a fool to trust her at all. Thierry regarded her coldly, then lifted his palm between them in a silent but eloquent gesture.

The woman shook her head firmly and pointed to her stomach.

“There are ways to retrieve something swallowed,” Nogai said calmly as he unsheathed his blade. The woman took a hasty step backward, evidently needing no translation of the other man’s intent.

“Aye,” Thierry agreed and pursued her with purpose.

The gem would be his.

She darted to the back of the stall in a futile effort to evade him. When he cornered her, her breath was coming in quick gasps. Her eyes and the hasty flutter of the pulse in her throat revealed that she was finally truly afraid. She said something that was obviously an entreaty, but Thierry had no intention of following Nogai’s suggestion.

He would not question why. He pressed down on her shoulders until she dropped to her knees, unable to help noticing how tiny she was. He closed one hand around her jaw, while the other slipped into the thick silk of the hair at her nape.

Soft, he marveled, hesitating for an instant. It had been years since he had felt anything so soft as this woman’s hair. She spared him a terrified glance that recalled him to the situation. Thierry pushed his finger into her mouth and down her throat.

She clutched at his hand, her grip surprisingly strong as she coughed and gagged. Thierry knelt over her as she dropped to all fours, sensing that the pearl would shortly be his.

Her offering, though, was devoid of gems.

A witch, indeed. Tears of exertion streamed over her cheeks but she did not look vulnerable. Nay, she glared at him with indignation. Thierry once more felt that unfamiliar urge to smile.

Instead he frowned and held out his hand once more.

“’Tis gone,” she insisted and the scholar rapidly translated her words.

He refused to look away and she pointed again to her stomach.

“You have no one to thank for that but yourself,” she chided.

Her indignation made no sense. Thierry turned to the scholar. “What does she mean?” he demanded, still not relinquishing his grip on her shoulders. His fingers curled around her and without thinking, he drew her closer. The scent of her skin was sweet and seductive. He forced himself to keep his gaze averted as he gathered his thoughts.

Thierry felt rather than saw her look to the scholar in turn. Her breathing quickened when he simply responded to Thierry without translating the question for her. “The flavor of a pearl reveals its origin and hence its value,” the older man supplied.

Thierry glanced down to the woman in time to see her gaze fill with trepidation. She demanded something of the scholar, presumably an explanation, and he noted that her voice had risen.

“She should have warned me of her intent,” Thierry growled, staring at her so hard that she seemed compelled to look at him anew. When she did, he heard the harsh sound of the Mongol words, just as he felt her shiver beneath the weight of his hands. But there was nothing for it. He had to retrieve the tribute or be killed himself for his failure. He held her gaze steadily. “Now she will have to pay the price.”