Claire Delacroix by Pearl Beyond Price

that he would fail to observe anything at all.
    He stood, his movements as economical as always. Kira started when she saw that he wore naught at all, her gaze stopping stubbornly at the thick pelt of hair on his chest. As he moved closer and she stared at his chest, she noted despite the poor light that a mark stretched across his skin from beneath the wiry dark hair. The mark extended toward his shoulder and Kira discerned that ‘twas in the shape of a cross.
    Could he be Christian? Well she knew that the sect used the cross as the symbol of their faith but never had she seen a believer mark his own flesh. When he paused before her, she could see the distinctive port-wine color of a birthmark and frowned in confusion. He had been born with such a distinctive mark upon his skin?
    Reluctantly, Kira looked up to meet his eyes and more immediate questions filled her mind. What had happened the night before? So little did she remember after his promise—if indeed he had promised what Kira thought he had. She panicked slightly at that acknowledgment, scooting backward when he took another step toward her. He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, and she dared not drop her gaze for fear of what she might see. Too close he was, for she felt that she could feel the heat from his skin.
    Worse, she could smell him, and the scent did naught to bolster her resolve. He smelled warm and spicy, and that unfamiliar warmth, which she could no longer blame on the drink, coiled once again in the depths of her belly. Kira clutched the blanket as she felt her color rise and knew she could no longer hold his regard.
    “Well I thought that you did not intend to take advantage,” she charged breathlessly, holding the blanket before her like a barrier as he regarded her silently. “Where are my clothes? Why am I naked? What happened?”
    He grimaced and used the same sign language he had used the night before, speaking as he did so in that incomprehensible tongue. He pointed to her, bending to scoop up the cup he had offered her the night before and making a sipping motion. Kira nodded quickly.
    That part she recalled well enough, she thought irritably, wishing he would hasten to the heart of the matter. He pointed to her once more, closed his eyes and dropped his cheek to one palm.
    Kira nodded impatiently once more. “Aye, that I well enough understand, but I would know what you did last night,” she insisted. When he did not immediately respond, she pointed imperiously to him and lifted her brows in silent query.
    The warrior nodded, speaking quickly as he indicated himself and pointed to a discarded blanket by the tent flap. So he had done as he had said. Kira expelled a sigh of relief, the gesture bringing her bare nipples in contact with the soft wool once more.
    “But what about my clothes?” she demanded with newfound dismay. He looked blank and she glanced pointedly down behind the blanket at her nakedness. He frowned and swept a hand before himself in a gesture that compelled Kira to note his nudity, dropping his cheek to his palm once more.
    So, he slept naked. Kira shook her head resolutely when he gestured to her and lifted his brows. “Nay, I do not sleep naked,” she affirmed, spotting her kurta with relief. She stretched to reach it with some difficulty and when she managed to grasp it, shook it in his direction. “I sleep with this.”
    He shrugged, as if disinterested, turning away to haul on his chalwar and his boots.
    Kira stifled a very feminine surge of irritation that he had so little interest in her nudity. Not easy for her pride was it that he so readily admitted to finding her unattractive, and she struggled to her knees, letting the blanket drop away. Little point was there in shielding herself from him, for he undoubtedly had more interest in his horse.
    Men, she thought with disgust, surprised to find his hand heavy on her shoulder when she tried to rise. How had he moved across the space so quietly and