It was, Gabriel thought as he flapped like a bird around the field, the stupidest he’d ever acted without the influence of alcohol. He was painfully sober. Gabriel didn’t really consider himself a drinking man, and hated the times in his life he’d been truly fuddled. Still, a measure of good whiskey right then would have done him a world of help. Here he was, definitely not drunk, in clothing even smaller than what he’d worn as a snotty child, prancing before a crowd of two hundred Mongols. For the love of hell, if anyone wanted to know if he was cold, they didn’t have far to look. The humiliation didn’t end there, however. Thalia had explained that all wrestling matches started with the competitors performing a dance that imitated the glorious phoenix. He performed the dance, but Gabriel felt that he didn’t resemble a phoenix so much as an ass.
Focus on the prize, Huntley, he told himself, as he waved his arms and circled like a wheeling bird. His bloody pride could take more than a few kicks to the stones. His stones might even be kicked, given how unprotected his goods were.
Finally, Bold came forward and announced that the contest would begin. The wrestlers stopped their dance and offered gestures of respect to Bold, who would serve as judge, the other competitors, and the crowd. Gabriel already knew that, of the four men entering the wrestling competition, only one would emerge victorious. That man had to be him. He couldn’t fail, not the Blades, and not Thalia.
She watched from the sidelines, Batu at her side. She didn’t seem to find his bleeding costume ridiculous. In fact, she’d liked it. Quite a bit. It took every drop of self-control he had to keep from showing her just how much he enjoyed seeing that naked lust in her face. If he wasn’t careful, he’d pop right out of the damned trunks and give every one of the tribesmen an eyeful of genuine English sausage.
Thoughts of lust scattered quickly when it was time to face off against his opponent. Gabriel had watched the man throughout the nadaam festival and knew that, even though he was shorter than himself, he contained a lot of power in a small package. The Mongol also had the advantage of a lifetime spent wrestling, whereas Gabriel had spent his years shooting rifles. Gabriel had done his share of hand-to-hand combat, though, including the time he’d had to defeat a giant of a mercenary near Kanpur with nothing but a broken bayonet. Almost lost his damn hand to that bastard.
Gabriel and his opponent faced each other and placed their hands on each other’s shoulders. At Bold’s command, the competition began. They strained against each other, testing resistance, learning each other’s strength. Gabriel gritted his teeth. The chap was a sturdy one, all right. He tried to grab the back of Gabriel’s jacket, twisting so he could flip him, but Gabriel muscled himself free and narrowly avoided touching the ground with his knee as he regained his balance. If any part of his body except the soles of his feet contacted the ground, he would lose.
For a few minutes, they shoved and danced back and forth. Their movements might have been small, but they cost quite a lot. Sweat stung Gabriel’s eyes as he repelled another attack. He and his opponent locked in another hold, pushing against each other. The crowd, clearly expecting the foreigner to lose immediately, roared its approval. Thalia shouted something, but seemed to recall in her excitement that Gabriel spoke no Mongol, and switched to English.
“Thrash him, Gabriel! Send him crying to mama!”
His arms were already tired from the horse race, but, hearing Thalia cheer for him, they came back to life as his mind planned his strategy. He lessened his hold just enough so that his opponent’s center of gravity shifted. Gabriel could see it in his legs. In that tiny moment of instability, Gabriel quickly moved his arms, grabbed the man by the waist, and tossed him over his shoulder. The man went down on his back with a grunt.
This time, when Gabriel performed the phoenix dance, he didn’t mind so much. Victory was victory, even if he did have to flap around like an ailing chicken. As the onlookers cheered, Thalia and Batu jogged up. She handed him a bowl of tea to refresh himself. It wasn’t whiskey, but he’d take what he was given, especially from a beaming and proud Thalia.
“Your challenger was his tribe’s best wrestler,” Thalia grinned.
“He was a tough little bugger,” Gabriel answered. When the man himself walked by, Gabriel grabbed hold of his hand and shook it respectfully. “Nice job, gov’nor,” Gabriel said. “Maybe next year.”
The Mongol looked a bit confused, not used to shaking hands, but he took it in stride, smiling and bowing. He said a few things to Gabriel, which Thalia translated. “Those muscles of yours aren’t for show,” he said. “And you use your brain, too. You would make an excellent Mongol.”
“Much thanks,” Gabriel answered, oddly touched by his opponent’s praise. Thalia, too, seemed affected, her own smile getting a bit wobbly around the edges.
They all moved aside as Tsend and his opponent took the field. No doubt about it, the Heirs had done well finding themselves a bruiser. Even the good-sized man who was wrestling Tsend found the double-crossing bloke intimidating. The crowd itself sensed something sinister about Tsend, quieting a little and shuffling back just a bit as if trying to gain distance.
“Look,” Thalia whispered, nudging Gabriel. She frowned, and pointed out a host of birds taking flight from their perches in the grass and crimson flowers. They dotted the sky with their dark retreating forms. A strange and ominous shiver ran down his neck as he watched them disappear.
“What does that mean?” Gabriel asked.
“Birds are sensitive to magic,” she explained quietly, though almost no one nearby spoke English. “They must sense the Heirs’ presence around Tsend.”
Gabriel almost dismissed this idea as daft, but remembered that the world he once knew, the world without magic, was gone. He understood differently now. It was magic he was fighting for.
Taking the field again, Bold eyed Tsend with barely concealed mistrust. But a legitimate place had been won in the tournament, so the wrestling competition had to proceed. The two wrestlers placed their hands on each other’s shoulders and waited. Then Bold called out for the contest to begin.
Gabriel settled back to watch a wrestling match as involved and lengthy as the one he had just fought. Yet in less time than it would take to sneeze, the match was over. Gabriel barely saw it happen. Tsend sneered as his opponent was suddenly sprawled on the ground, wide-eyed with shock. Even the crowd and Bold were stunned into silence. Thalia went white.
“Good Christ,” Gabriel muttered in the quiet. “That was faster than a private with his first whore.”
At his words, Tsend turned to Gabriel and bawled out a laugh. “You are next, English fool.”
Gabriel nearly snarled back his own retort, but figured that only cowards and bullies felt the need to belittle their opponents. The more a man bragged and taunted, the more afraid he must be. So, without saying anything, he started toward the field.
“Gabriel, wait,” Thalia cried behind him. She grabbed at his arm.
He tried to quell a flare of temper as he turned back. “You’ve got to believe I can win,” he said lowly. “I need you to have faith in me.”
“I do have faith in you,” she answered readily, which gave him sizable comfort. “But I don’t know if you can win against someone who’s cheating.” She looked meaningfully at Tsend, who was making a big show of being bored, staring at the distant mountains.
“Cheating?” Gabriel repeated. “I don’t see how. We all watched him throw the other wrestler. He didn’t cast any spells. He’s not wearing an amulet or some such object.”
“You don’t have to cast a spell or have an object to use magic. Look.” She gestured slightly and Gabriel followed her direction. “He isn’t wearing any boots.”
“That gives him a disadvantage. Less traction.”
“Except the magic he’s using requires him to have bare feet. I just saw it, painted on his soles. The Mark of Antaeus.”
That didn’t sound promising.
“Is your woman too frightened for you to wrestle?” Tsend shouted.
Gabriel scowled at the Mongol, but ignored him. The crowd, however, started to get a bit fidgety. “Tell me what it is and how to defeat it,” he said to Thalia.
“Antaeus was the giant in Greek mythology who derived his strength from touching the earth,” she explained quickly. “He was impossible to defeat, because every time he was thrown down, he rose up even stronger than before. Only Heracles was able to vanquish him by holding him aloft until his strength drained away. If the Mark of Antaeus is painted upon flesh which contacts the ground, the wearer gains the giant’s strength. That’s how Tsend defeated the other wrestler.”
“You must take your positions now,” Bold announced.
Gabriel moved away from Thalia, and he heard the panic in her voice as she called after him, “It’s impossible to beat him.”
“I’ve learned that nothing is impossible,” Gabriel said over his shoulder, “since I met you.”
Late afternoon sun blazed low in the sky. No wind stirred the grasses and flowers at the edge of the field. Even the sounds of the animals, the soft chuffing and bleats of horses and sheep, faded away as Captain Huntley and Tsend faced each other. The world seemed to be holding its breath, knowing what was at stake as operatives from the Blades of the Rose and the Heirs of Albion prepared to fight for magic on the open steppes of Mongolia.
The Heir Lamb had commanded a hawk to serve as spy in the ail of red flowers. The bird, following Lamb’s orders, discovered this tribe’s prize—a massive ruby. Surely the gem was what the Heirs sought, so Tsend was dispatched to win it.
After Huntley and Tsend briefly performed the phoenix dance, they crouched opposite each other. Tsend smirked, confident in his superiority. Even if the Englishman had known about the Mark of Antaeus on the soles of his feet, it wouldn’t have mattered. The mark gave him power. Undefeatable power. Unless the Englishman used some magic of his own, there would be no way to conquer Tsend. But the blond man simply stared back, showing no fear. That made him a fool. There was always something to fear.
He and the Englishman placed their hands on each other’s shoulders, and Tsend was unpleasantly surprised by the strength he felt in the other man. It didn’t matter, he told himself. Even if his foe was the strongest man in all of Mongolia, he would be unable to best Tsend. He happily anticipated thrashing the man in front of the dark-haired Englishwoman, who watched with anxious eyes from nearby. Unfortunately, she was promised to Henry Lamb, so Tsend could only enjoy watching defeat in her face. Later, perhaps, when Lamb was tired of her, Tsend would have his chance to take his pleasure. Then, a new fear and horror would fill her face, making Tsend’s pleasure all the sweeter.
“Begin!”
Enjoying his advantage, Tsend let the Englishman push hard against him. He could still feel his opponent’s strength, but it was as if Tsend was at the bottom of a well, and the other man simply dropping pebbles rather than boulders. Huntley gritted his teeth and strained, shoving against him with enough force to knock any number of large men over. Any man except Tsend. He didn’t bother hiding his laughter. So pitiful, the futile efforts of the Englishman. But the experience quickly grew boring for Tsend. The sooner this wrestling foolishness was over, the sooner Tsend could claim the ruby, give it to Lamb, and receive his rewards. Although, with the strength of the Mark on his feet, there was no need to surrender the ruby to Lamb or his snarling friend. Why not keep it for himself? Then the power of Genghis Khan would belong to Tsend alone. Tsend had always felt, ever since he was a child without parents in the muddy lanes of Urga, that he was owed something, that the world conspired against him, cheating him. The ruby would change everything, finally give him what he deserved. Yes, that was an even better plan. Tsend smiled.
The Englishman must have sensed Tsend’s decision to end the match. Huntley let go of Tsend’s shoulders. With a quick shuffle, the Englishman moved back, out of reach. Tsend chuckled. So, Huntley had finally learned fear. It didn’t make any difference, not now.
Tsend took a step toward the Englishman, but as he did so, Huntley moved with a hidden speed, so quickly Tsend barely saw him move. Lumbering closer, Tsend took a swipe at Huntley, but the blond man ducked. Then the Englishman was right in front of him, wedging his boot underneath Tsend’s lifted foot. Huntley grunted under the weight, but he didn’t move away. Idiot. Tsend picked up his other foot, determined to put his full weight onto the Englishman’s boot and hopefully break some bones.
Just as he did so, Huntley shoved his other boot underneath Tsend’s foot. With a start, Tsend realized what the Englishman was doing. He knew about the Mark on Tsend’s feet, and was trying to separate him from the power of the earth. Already, with the contact broken, the magical strength started to ebb. Tsend tried to move back. He couldn’t. Huntley had grabbed him around the waist and, with an almighty groan, picked Tsend up and held him suspended a few inches above the ground.
Tsend struggled and thrashed. He easily outweighed the Englishman by at least fifty pounds, but Huntley would not let him go. It felt as if thick ropes were tight around Tsend’s middle, crushing the breath from him. Not only stealing his breath, but his strength, too. Tsend felt it draining from his body as if he was slowly freezing. He bucked and twisted, trying to break free. Somehow, with his own natural strength, Huntley continued to grip him tightly and hold him away from the earth.
Panic flared. Huntley’s fingers were laced together, so Tsend awkwardly reached back and clawed at them. Nothing. Even as the Englishman sweated and grunted with the effort of holding Tsend aloft, he wouldn’t let go.
From somewhere, the Englishwoman shouted encouragements, and that only fueled Huntley further. No matter how hard Tsend fought to free himself, swinging his fists and kicking, Huntley held fast. Tsend even bloodied the Englishman’s face with a strike from his elbow. It made no difference. The blond man continued to hold him, dangling Tsend above the one thing that would replenish his power. Nearly gone. Tsend writhed. He was so close to the ground. All it would take was one touch. But, no. The magical strength from the Mark shivered once, then disappeared completely.
Sensing this, Huntley hefted Tsend up, then tossed him onto his back on the ground. The crowd screamed its approval. Tsend blinked, stunned.
He’d lost.
A surge of strength from the earth filled him, but before Tsend could jump back up to his feet, Thalia Burgess rushed forward with a large bowl and splashed its contents onto the soles of his feet, destroying the Mark. As quickly as it had come, the power of the earth was gone.
Struggling to sit up, Tsend choked as Huntley’s arm wrapped around his neck. Tsend flopped around, his vision dimming, while his lungs screamed for air.
Dimly, he heard the Englishwoman cry out, “Gabriel! No! Not here, not now!”
“When, then?” Huntley growled.
Tsend did not hear her answer, but whatever she said made the Englishman release him with a shove. Tsend sprawled face first into the dirt, coughing and gagging.
“Go back to your masters, dog,” Huntley snarled. “And I promise you, the next time we meet, I’ll kill you.”
As Tsend crawled away, filled with rage and shame, he heard the chieftain proclaim the English man and woman as the winners of the tournament, and the new guardians of the ruby. Tsend wanted to rush back, steal the ruby for himself, beat Huntley lifeless and take the girl. But he barely had enough strength to slither on the ground, let alone rip the Englishman apart. He hated feeling weak. He destroyed weakness.
Yet, as he concentrated on placing one trembling hand in front of the other, Tsend couldn’t help the cold smile that tugged on his mouth. He would meet Huntley again. And when that happened, nothing anyone said or did would be able to stop Tsend from gleefully, slowly killing the Englishman. While his woman could only watch, and suffer.
Some things, a man got used to. Like, say, being awakened by rifles firing at close range. Or learning to go without food for days at a time. Or, worst of all, sharing a tent with Lieutenant Thatcher, who snored like a steam engine. Gabriel became inured to all of that, even the snoring. But he didn’t think he would ever get used to seeing Thalia laugh and smile. She turned from merely beautiful into something celestial, goddess-like. No, that wasn’t right. She was too tied to the earth, too full of real life and body and self to be heavenly.
As Thalia finished tending to Gabriel’s latest wounds—this set a few nasty cuts and bruises on his face courtesy of that cheating bastard, Tsend—she tried but could not contain her delirious joy, her exhilaration that she and Gabriel had won the tribe’s ruby. And he couldn’t stop his own pleasure at seeing her so happy.
“We should take it straight away to my father,” she beamed as she dabbed some healing salve on his cheek. “He’ll know the best thing to do with it, how to protect it from the Heirs. And, at last, I’ll be a Blade.” This last fact made her glow with euphoria.
“Haven’t been given the ruby, yet,” Gabriel pointed out. At least Gabriel had changed back into his normal clothing from the skimpy wrestling costume. Despite the fact that Thalia enjoyed it, the tiny scraps of silk offered less protection from the elements than a handkerchief.
“But we will have it in a few minutes,” she countered with a smile.
“The ruby belongs to Bold’s tribe.” He didn’t want to be contrary, but it was an important fact. “They’re not going to let us waltz off with their prized possession without having something to say about it.”
A small frown furrowed her brow. “Maybe if we explain…”
She didn’t get to finish this idea before Oyuun, Bold, and the ruby’s current, but soon to be replaced, guardian came into the ger.
“It is now time for you to accept your honorable duty,” Bold said as Thalia translated. Both Gabriel and Thalia started to rise from sitting on the ground, but Bold waved them back. “You must kneel to show your respect.”
Both Gabriel and Thalia did so. “Aren’t we supposed to do this in front of the tribe?” Gabriel asked, and, when Thalia translated this question for Bold, the chieftain shook his head.
“The glory comes from winning the responsibility,” he answered gravely. “What happens here is a private matter between yourself and your own sense of honor. Once the ruby is under your protection, we must trust you in all of your decisions involving it.”
Gabriel made sure not to glance at Thalia, kneeling beside him. That would surely give away that they had something planned. Conscience stabbed at him. Could they take the tribe’s most sacred and valuable treasure? Even if it meant protecting the greater good?
The ruby’s guardian stepped forward, opening its case. Once again, Gabriel marveled at the size and lustrous deep red color of the uncut gem. Many men would cheerfully murder babies and nuns in order to possess such an incredible object, regardless of whether or not it held any magic.
“You are to repeat after me,” the protector commanded. “I swear beneath the eternal sky and upon my own immortal soul that I shall not suffer to part from this, the pride of generations, for the next cycle of the sun. For a year and a day shall I do this. May I endure the torments of a thousand flaming arrows if my greed or foolishness causes the jewel any harm in the course of my guardianship.”
After a pause, Thalia repeated the oath in Mongolian, while Gabriel answered in English. He tried to rationalize that, technically, he wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to the ruby, but it wasn’t much comfort at all. Maybe Thalia was right, and if they just told the tribesmen what kind of untapped power they held…but then there was the possibility that the Mongols would want to use that power for themselves, and not let the Blades safely house it. Yet, it rightfully belonged to this tribe, not to the Blades of the Rose.
Gabriel inwardly grimaced. Though there were always areas of gray when serving in the army, he wasn’t used to such complicated issues of right and wrong.
Then Bold said something, stepping forward, and Thalia held out her hand. The hiss of a knife leaving its sheath caused Gabriel to spring to his feet. He didn’t have a gun or a knife of his own just then, but fists worked, too.
Thalia’s hand on his leg stopped him before he knocked the blade from Bold’s hand. “It’s a blood oath,” she said quietly. The ruby’s guardian also held out his hand, and Gabriel saw the faint scar that traced across his palm.
“There’s no need to cut you too,” Gabriel growled.
“I will also guard the ruby,” she answered. “So I must. I’m not afraid.”
Gabriel muttered, but knelt back down again. He did not look forward to seeing Thalia cut. Bold took the knife and scored the flesh of his own hand so that a line of bright blood flashed there; he hissed slightly in pain. Without a flinch or tremor, Thalia presented the chieftain with her palm. Gabriel gritted his teeth as the blade cut her skin, but she made no noise. Only a slight tightening of her mouth betrayed that she felt any pain. She pressed her palm to Bold’s, saying a few words in Mongolian as she did so.
Then it was Gabriel’s turn, and he made sure to bear the incision stoically. He took Bold’s hand, commingling their blood. “I swear that I will protect this treasure and the woman who guards it with my life,” Gabriel vowed.
Thalia, the only one who understood what his words meant, turned startled eyes to him. But the gravity with which he said the words seemed to satisfy Bold, Oyuun, and, most importantly, the ruby’s protector. With a bow, the box holding the ruby was presented to Thalia and Gabriel. As soon as it had been taken from the guardian’s hands, he visibly relaxed and smiled for the first time. He said something to Thalia and Gabriel, then spoke with Bold and Oyuun before quickly leaving the ger with a noticeable spring in his step. Gabriel couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
Oyuun came forward, beaming, and spoke with Thalia and Gabriel excitedly. “Now you receive another honor,” the chieftain’s wife said. She began to lead them outside. “All of the ruby’s guardians have their own ger for the duration of the year. Our children will move your belongings.”
“What about Batu?” Gabriel asked as they followed Oyuun.
Blushing, Thalia answered, “He continues to stay with his cousin. So you and I will be…alone.”
Alone, with Thalia. Sweet Christ in Heaven. He’d been given a gift.
Oyuun stopped outside a ger. The door was open, and it was, indeed, empty of people, though typical furnishings were inside including, Lord Almighty, beds. Two of them. Oyuun waved Thalia and Gabriel inside.
He swallowed hard as he followed Thalia into the tent. Blood oaths and moral ambiguities seeped out of his brain as other, more animal, needs prowled forward.
“Come to our ger for dinner tonight,” Oyuun chirped before disappearing, closing the door behind her. Gabriel could have sworn he saw a wicked twinkle in the woman’s eyes, but she was gone before he could prove it.
So, there they were. Thalia and Gabriel truly alone together for the first time. It was time that he didn’t want to waste. He closed the distance between himself and Thalia, already reaching for her.
The door banged open, and Oyuun and Bold’s two older children came in, staggering under the weight of their baggage. Gabriel and Thalia jumped apart, then quickly came forward, relieving the boy and girl of their burden. Shyly, the children left without speaking, casting curious glances over their shoulders.
Reminding himself that he had a duty, Gabriel made himself concentrate on the box in his hands. He sat upon the ground and opened the lid, revealing the dazzling splendor of the ruby. Noiselessly, Thalia sat opposite him and stared at the gem. He waited to feel a thrum of magical power coming from the ruby, but all he felt was a hot need for Thalia building inside of him.
“The tribesmen have had this thing for generations, but none of them seem to know it’s magic,” Gabriel said, his voice little more than a growl.
Thalia reached over and picked up the ruby, testing its weight. Dark red glimmers glided across her face as light penetrated the jewel’s surface. “Perhaps there is some chant, or a phrase, that must be used.” She turned the ruby over and over in her hand with long, tapered fingers. They weren’t the fingers of a woman whose sole labor consisted of lifting teacups and writing up guest lists. He wanted them on him, wrapped around him.
He forced his concentration to the stone and not the woman holding it. “Could be anything.”
Thalia frowned as she thought. “To begin, we ought to test its strength.”
“Another device by the talented Mr. Graves?”
She shook her head as she rose to her feet. Carefully cradling the ruby, she waited by the door for Gabriel to join her, then slipped the gem back into its case. Gabriel opened the door first, then, after checking to make sure that no one lurked outside and no Heirs were approaching from the horizon, nodded for Thalia. She stepped outside and walked toward the perches of a few hunting eagles tethered nearby, Gabriel following. The noble creatures took little notice of them, beyond shaking out and settling into their feathers.
“You know now that birds are sensitive to magic,” she said, standing next to one of the eagles. “So we can use these eagles to test the ruby. The more strongly they react, the more powerful it is. That way, we can know if its magic is dangerous, and what it might be capable of.”
With a nod, Gabriel opened the case and held it near the bird. He and Thalia waited.
“Nothing’s happening,” he muttered.
“Give it a moment,” Thalia answered.
They waited more. The eagle turned one gleaming eye toward the gem, then began preening, deucedly uninterested in either the ruby, Thalia, or Gabriel.
“Maybe this buzzard can’t feel magic,” Gabriel suggested.
“But all birds respond to magic,” she said grimly. “That has been true ever since magic was discovered. However, just in case…” She held the ruby near another hunting eagle, and then another, then another, but the reaction was always the same. Nothing.
Thalia looked baffled. “I don’t understand.”
“The last bloke who guarded the ruby might’ve switched it out.”
“I don’t see a stockpile of giant rubies around here, do you?” Thalia snapped, then rubbed her face contritely. “Sorry. It’s just that…this, this…nothing…isn’t supposed to happen.”
“Might not be a Source.”
“It has to be,” Thalia almost cried. “We followed the directions given to us by the stone tortoise. We found the moving field of crimson. And then this tribe happens to have an enormous ruby, just like the one Genghis Khan may have held when he was born. If this isn’t the Source, I don’t know what is.” She turned bleak eyes to Gabriel. “I can’t have failed the Blades. I can’t have failed Mongolia. Not when I’m so close.”
He wanted to pull her into his arms and shield her from disappointment, but knew that she would not want, nor accept, being sheltered. Words of comfort would only ring hollow and false.
They needed time to think, and, just then, neither of them seemed capable of deep contemplation. “We’ll take our supper with Bold and his family,” he said. “Afterward, we can go back to our tent”—he relished those words, our tent—“and figure this out, you and me.” He tipped up her chin and was glad to see not tears shining in her eyes, but fierce determination. God, she was extraordinary.
“I’m famished,” she said.
If Bold and his family noticed something preoccupying their honored guests, they didn’t mention it. Thalia and Gabriel ate mutton and drank tea without speaking much. The ger was filled with the chatter of the family, especially the grandparents talking with the excited children about the unusually thrilling nadaam. No one could quite believe that both a white man and a woman had won, and as a team. Then, there had been that big man who had competed, the one who didn’t wear boots during the wrestling matches. Something hadn’t been right about him, and they all agreed that everyone breathed easier when he’d gone.
Several times throughout the meal, Gabriel saw Oyuun look between Thalia and himself, speculative. The chieftain’s wife kept her counsel, however. Gabriel wondered what kind of confidence she and Thalia had shared. More of the female mystery that was both terrifying and intriguing.
When the meal was finished, Bold said to Gabriel, “Join me for a pipe, and we shall have some singing and storytelling.”
Gabriel exchanged looks with Thalia, torn. They needed to get back to their ger and figure out what, if any, kind of power the ruby had. Then there was the pressing matter of the fact that they hadn’t touched in over an hour.
Oyuun seemed to sense their dilemma, though she didn’t quite guess all of the reasons for it. Gently, she said to her husband, “Perhaps our guests are tired after such a trying day.” When she looked back at Gabriel, she winked. Bless her.
“Of course!” Bold said, getting to his feet. “There will be chances enough for pipes and stories.”
He and Thalia wished their hosts a good night before leaving as quickly as possible. Hand in hand, they strode through the encampment, but were delayed often by different people’s coming up and congratulating them on winning the nadaam. Gabriel was starting to get some basic words, and was able to clumsily thank everyone who was so damned gracious and admiring. If only the Mongol people were a little less sociable, Gabriel could be peeling Thalia’s del off by now and stroking her bare skin.
By the time he and Thalia were within twenty yards of their ger, and still another herdsman tried to stop them and wax rhapsodic about the wrestling tournament, Gabriel couldn’t make himself stop or even slow down. He grunted his thanks to the gawking man, tugging Thalia behind him.
“That was rather rude.” She laughed as they entered their tent. She went to light a lantern.
Gabriel slammed the door shut and dragged a chest in front of it. He set down the case with the ruby. “Don’t care.” Then he stalked over to Thalia—feeling clearly the blood pulsing through his body, aware of everything about hers—and pulled her to him, one hand on her waist, the other cupping the back of her neck. She breathed in once, deeply, green eyes wide and shining as she looked up at him, her hands on his forearms. And then he took her mouth with his.
Open, wet. Neither of them held back. Last night had done nothing to sate his hunger for her. If anything, last night had made it sharper; he was desperate for more. He tasted the tea they had drunk on her breath, and the milky sweetness of her. But he wasn’t satisfied just to kiss her mouth, delicious as it was. Trailing down, running his lips along her neck, until he met with the heavy fabric of her del. He made deft work of undoing the fastenings, then pushed the del open. Underneath, she wore a light cotton camisole. No corset.
His hands slid over her breasts, small but full. The nipples tightened and beaded under the nearly sheer fabric. When he bent down and flicked his tongue over them, one and then the other, she moaned and clasped his head to her.
“Not enough,” he muttered. He shoved the del off of her, onto the floor, and tugged at her camisole until, impatient, he tore it right down the middle. Her aroused gasp was alive on his skin. Soft scraps of fabric drifted down to the ground, but he didn’t notice, he was licking her, swirling his tongue over her breasts. Her hips surged against his. Gabriel swore. He didn’t want to swear, not at that moment, but he’d no other way of expressing this, this tidal wave of sensation and emotion that her unrestrained response awoke in him.
As he nipped gently at the tip of her breast, Thalia moaned again and began to pull at his clothes.
He broke away from her and was next to one of the mattresses in an instant. Another instant, and he’d tossed the mattress across the ger so that it lay beside the other sleeping mat, doubling the size.
“Now,” he said, turning back to her with a feral grin, “we’ve got a proper bed.”