Claire Delacroix Read Online Free Page A

knowing expression that lit his eyes at her move. Curse him for presuming to guess her thoughts. For no flattering thoughts had she of a barbarian warrior, regardless of his own interpretation of her response. Kira lifted her chin defiantly and glared at the tall man.
    “Time will this take,” she managed to say, forcing herself to continue even when that jaw hardened with displeasure. “Mayhap you could return later.”
    Impossible ‘twould be to work under this merciless scrutiny. Irrational ‘twas and she knew it, but Kira wanted this man out of her father’s shop. Now. She felt agitated as she never had before and told herself ‘twas the man’s very stillness that unnerved her. And the way he watched every move so impassively. ‘Twas unnatural.
    Her heart sank when Johannes’ voice faded, his translation not even complete before the warrior shook his head with certainty. He bit out something that Kira had no trouble recognizing as a recrimination or a threat or both and she felt her cheeks heat again. Too much ‘twas to have him question her honesty.
    “No intention have I of cheating him and you had best make that clear,” she told Johannes tersely. She felt the heat of an indignant flush staining her cheeks but did not care. “An honest house is this. ‘Twas only my suspicion that ‘twould be easier for me to concentrate on the task without supervision that prompted my suggestion.”
    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 get used 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 deliberately on her worktable. 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 curiously amusing. Fear he was used to, but disgruntled cooperation was a response that was entirely novel.
    Evidently the woman was a witch.
    Those full lips had tightened, and the teeth that had flashed when she smiled earlier were gritted together in a clear bid for self-control. The soft gold of her complexion was now tinged with a more ruddy hue. She cleared her work space brusquely of other gems, the expression in those wide dark eyes mutinous at a minimum.
    For all of that, though, she did his bidding. Thierry supposed another less perceptive than he might have been fooled, but he saw every minute sign 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 watch her tiny hands as she worked.
    Though she refused to glance in his direction, Thierry knew she was completely aware of his regard. He leaned back against the wall, fingering the hilt of his blade speculatively. What manner of woman spewed pearls from her mouth when she spoke?
    A puzzle that was, 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 flashed through her eyes, telling Thierry that she was well familiar with their reputation. But she had not recoiled in the manner of most soft urban women who had seen naught of life.
    What kind of woman would have the audacity to act thus? A Mongol woman, surely, but this woman’s delicate features hinted naught at Eastern blood.
    A witch she must truly be. Indeed, ‘twas well Thierry had guessed her game, for he would need to guard himself against her sorcery. No other explanation could there be. Convinced of his own logic, Thierry watched the woman with