The quiet of the night had settled around the yurt. Eve continued to wring the rag between her fingers as she lay in the bed, the one he had moved for her earlier. She still felt the tingles of his touch on her—on the places of her skin he had held. The room was warm from the stove at the center, but she wished she had a blanket to pull over her for comfort. Tomorrow, she decided, she would have him take her to the market to purchase essentials: blankets, tea leaves, some decent items to cook with, and a rug for the comfort of their feet. She had confidence that he would allow her what she wanted now that they were communicating. She would use her practiced ways to guide this man toward her goals. If anything happened to threaten her position in this company, or if he decided to leave her behind, she suspected she had a new weapon to use on him.
Until she had to use this weapon again, however, she would keep it a secret that she liked the way he had tasted on her tongue.
ChapterSix
The next morning, as Michel was tending to the horses, he knew he needed to talk to Eve. She had woken him up from his bedroll on the floor by poking him in the side with her toe and demanding that he take her to the market. Now he was waiting in the cool morning air for her to emerge from the yurt so they could walk into town together.
Michel, never one to leave things to chance, had decided last night about what he was going to do with her. No, he couldn’t have an angry, insulted tribal woman on his route with him. The longer he traveled with her, the more he exposed himself to the eyes of those who would revile him for being so bold. His ability to safely travel and maintain a steady route for the other French merchants rested completely on his actions and reputation. He had to show respect to the people and their customs at all times. He had to live up to the standards his father, a man who never once faltered or failed, had set when he maintained these routes.
What to do about Eve? Purchased servant? No. He would be condemned, and more importantly, he didn’t like thinking of himself that way.
A hired maid? Perhaps.
Hecouldhire someone to make and break a camp. A woman made sense. A Mongolian woman made even more sense because of their nomadic upbringing. It was the best he could come up with in the moment, so he was going to go with it. Though he still hoped to find her people, he didn’t have any reason to keep her confined or miserable. Besides, she was determined to stay with him, so what could he do? Lock her in the yurt and sneak away in the night? He might even be able to enjoy having her around.If, he thought with a laugh,ifhe could keep her from biting him again.
It sure would make everything easier if she weren’t so goddamned beautiful.
Their camp sat at the edge of the city in the reddish-brown dirt that led back to the desert. The horses were foraging on patches of flat grass while he refreshed their water. Michel looked up when she came out of the yurt. She straightened the mat at the front and slipped on her shoes.
“Eve,” he called, as he smoothed a hand over the back of a dun-colored mare. “Come here, please.”
She glared at him, then came through the camp, past several men sipping coffee by the fire, until she stood before him.
“I cannot keep you as a servant,” he began.
“But—” she started.
He held up his hand. “Wait. I have a proposition.”
She clamped her mouth shut and watched him.
“I will hire you. You can help tend the horses, make and break camps. Organize…whatever needs organizing.”
“Or?” she ventured.
“Or you can leave right now. I’m sure I can book you passage to your home if you tell me where. But if you stay, you will work, and I will pay you.”
She turned up her chin. “Why?”
“Because I truly do want to help you. I owe you that.” He shrugged. He poured another bucket of water into the trough, careful not to spill. “It won’t look so bad for me if I truly have hired you.”
She continued to glare, one eyebrow hitched, her golden hair falling over her shoulders. The horse whinnied loudly beside him.
He laughed away some of the unease he felt at the position he had put them both in. “I do want to help you.”
He set the bucket down. He had the urge to reach out and take her hand, to level some softness or understanding between them, but he didn’t. “When I saw you,” he cleared his throat. “You’re right—you took me by surprise.” He wiped his hands down the front of his pants. Now here came the hard part. “I’d like you to understand,” he said, deciding exactly how much he should share with her, “I’m not here on holiday.” He let his heel grind into the dirt. “I’m here so France has a presence. So the men who trade can do so safely. So that my country remains connected to this part of the world.” He shifted his weight and folded his arms in front of him. “I have to be above reproach because if I insult any of the locals, the tribes could cut us off, forbid our travel in the area. That will upset the Cardinal, which will hurt my family and my people.” He tilted his head, hoping she understood. “If you wish to travel with me, I can’t let that jeopardize my objectives.”
She looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Which means?”
“I can’t have people think I’ve taken you.” He paused to clear his throat. “For, um, my pleasure.” He looked down and then up at her from under his brows. “If you want to travel with me, I ask that you help me so it doesn’t look like I’ve coerced you. People talk. Gossip spreads faster than I can ride.” The horse knickered, and Michel stroked her mane. “You are under no obligation to me. I know that I wasn’t particularly respectful at first. But,” he gave her a grin, one he hoped was charming, “I wouldn’t mind having you around, if you’d like to stay. You’re a lot nicer to look at than these men. Smarter too.”
She reached out to place her hand on the mare’s snout. The horse quieted. She watched Michel carefully. “You will take me to France?”
Michel ground his jaw. “I don’t want to promise you something I can’t fulfill. I’m not done with my business. It might get rough, still. But, if you work, keep me organized with the men that join, help us live less like animals, as you said…” He smirked at her. “My hope is that you will decide that you want to return to your people. But you are welcome to stay as long as you are comfortable.”
She surveyed him. After a moment, she nodded. “Alright,” she said. “That works.” She moved to turn away, then she addressed him again. “The yurt,” she said. “I would like my own yurt.”
“No,” Michel said, flipping the reins of the horse from one hand to the other. “I know a lot of these men very well, but some of the others are new on this route. I don’t know how they’ll respond to an unattended woman.”
