by Jeannie Lin
Master always said she wouldn’t know her limit until someone pushed her to it.
“Now?” the swordsman asked from afar.
She tossed her hair out of her face. “Now.”
He waited, relaxed in his stance. She was nowhere near that patient. If she was to win this fight, she needed to know the extent of his skill, his level of intuition with the sword. She’d know all of that with the first cross of their blades. The touch of steel never lied.
She rushed forward and the swordsman never flinched. He lifted his sword and her first strike met against a solid wall of strength as the shorter blade clashed against the longer reach of his jian. The swordsman deflected in one fluid motion.
Disciplined. Small movements, no waste of energy.
She gave him no time to recover before snaking forward again, her swords seeking an opening through touch and tension. The cry of metal rang through the square and the crowd gasped. He was stronger than her, but there was guile beneath his force. His blade slipped past hers with a deft rotation of his wrist. He was testing her as well, exploring the boundaries between them.
They separated, but remained closer this time, dancing just outside contact range. Her heart pounded, cutting through the sluggish pulse of the afternoon. She was breathing hard, but so was he. His chest rose and fell as he watched her.
Wang laughed from the perimeter. “More than you expected, Shen Leung?”
A nervous flutter rose in her stomach at the sound of the name. It was a name they’d heard of even here in this small corner of the empire.
“Well, if I had known you were famous, I wouldn’t have insulted you—” she taunted him “—quite as much.”
Curse her wicked tongue. She couldn’t stop herself with the energy of the battle flowing through her like this.
Shen Leung wasn’t so easily distracted. He wiped his brow with his sleeve and circled her, his feet steady over the packed dirt of the marketplace. His presence filled the space with hardly any effort.
“Who is your master?” he asked.
“No one you know.”
“He must have recognized your natural ability. Few swordmasters will train a woman.”
The surge of pleasure at his words was dangerous. “What makes you think my master is a man?”
She attacked again. Talking wouldn’t resolve this and she wanted to get a closer look at his sword work, even if it was going to be her defeat. Shen Leung was magnificent with the blade and he moved with a confidence that made her heart race. There was a joy in being pushed to the edge by a worthy opponent. She hadn’t found such harmony since leaving her old home to come here.
“Stop being nice to her!” Wang shouted.
Shen Leung breathed through each movement. His eyes met hers. “I’m not.”
Only she could hear the reply amidst the sword strike. His voice was husky with exertion and his skin glistened with a sheen of sweat.
“You’re good,” he said.
She parried and twisted his blade aside. “I don’t need you to tell me.”
He grinned and pushed her further until she had to fight for balance. She wasn’t done yet. Boldly she ventured closer where his longer blade would be less effective. Most practitioners weren’t comfortable there, but Shen Leung found her rhythm and flowed with her. The edge of his weapon broke through her guard. She leaped back, knowing it was too late.
But he missed.
The blade whistled past her ear. She stared at him in shock while he regained his stance and prepared for another advance.
She had him. It had nothing to do with skill. They were closely matched in training, but there was so much more that went into a fight. The honorable Shen Leung was unwilling to hurt her. He didn’t realize it yet, but this battle was hers if she wanted it.
With her new confidence, she could see all the openings. A warrior had to be ruthless and strategic. That was what she had been taught. He became a series of targets in her eyes. All she needed to do was catch another moment of hesitation and she would break through.
And once she won...what then?
Someone else would come. Another one of Zhou’s henchmen now that he was bent on revenge. Or maybe no one would ever defeat her or care to approach her with a serious marriage proposal. She’d have nothing but this speck of a town and the noodle stand. Shen Leung’s arrival had broken through the clouds. She might never feel this way again about anyone.
They said he was a good man, a just and courageous one.
She decided then. She met his attack edge on edge, loosening her grip slightly with the impact of their blades, and the strength of his next attempt wrenched the hilt from her grasp. A collective murmur went through the crowd when her sword fell to the dirt. For a second, it almost seemed they had been cheering for her. Supporting the local madwoman.
Shen Leung’s sword darted forward to stop just shy of her throat. She grew still beneath his gaze. He regarded her with admiration and something else, a fire she’d never seen before.
He rested the tip of the blade gently against her collarbone, almost like a caress. “Do I need to draw blood, my lady?” he asked softly.
He had already pierced her, deeper than he knew.
It was Wang who broke the standoff. “Claim your prize, Master Shen!”
“Prize?”
The blade fell back. The exertion of the battle began to sink into her along with the oppressive heat of the afternoon. She wanted to wipe the perspiration from her face, but she didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare breathe as she watched Shen Leung’s reaction.
“Take your bride,” Wang said. “From your battle we can see the wedding night will be quite an adventure.”
His cronies hooted with laughter. She considered blackening both of Wang’s eyes and perhaps breaking his nose, as well.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Brother Wang.” Shen Leung looked embarrassed when he glanced back at her. “There will be no wedding.”
Her chest squeezed tight. Heat rushed up her neck and flooded her face while he bowed once more. The noble swordsman didn’t want her.
“Thank you for the match. Lady Wu is a formidable opponent.” He turned to leave. The cronies chanted their congratulations and ushered him toward the tavern to celebrate.
Mei Lin was left alone, her sword fallen in the dust. The curious eyes of the townspeople bore into her while the cruel sun beat down upon her back.
CHAPTER TWO
Shen Leung extracted himself from the tavern to taunting and cries of “One more round!” The chorus finally faded by the time he made his way to the shed behind merchant Wang’s house. The storage area had been cleared and swept so that a cot could be laid out to serve as a bed. He unclasped his sword belt and managed to shrug out of his tunic before sinking onto the cot.
Among the many cities and villages he’d passed through, this place was truly remarkable. The people were generous, the wine strong. And the woman...
He closed his eyes and she was there. Mei Lin. Pretty, pretty Mei Lin and her deadly butterfly swords. The noodle shop wouldn’t be open this late, otherwise he’d go there now and spend what little coin he had even though he wasn’t hungry.
He’d stolen glances from the tavern to search the stand throughout the evening, but she’d never returned. There had been such a quiet sorrow about her after the duel was finished. He’d felt the echo of it inside him. Every time he tried to make an excuse to leave, he’d been dragged back by well-wishers demanding stories of his travels.
Perhaps there would be time in the morning. He’d visit the stand before he left and she’d be there in the sunlight, as beguiling as she’d been when he’d first seen her. She had such delightful skin. The women of these southern regions were so soft and curved and feminine. So different from the harsh northern steppes.
He pulled the quilt over his shoulders and prepared to dream.
With a sharp crack, the door flew open. He jerked awake and sat up so fast that the world tilted. A wash of moonlight highlighted the form in the doorway. He’d know that silhouette anywhere. That slender waist and graceful neck. His eyes had already committed Mei Lin to memory.
“Shen Leung.”
Tentatively she stepped forward. Her hair was pulled up into a simple knot and her skin glowed in the pale light. Elegant. Sweet. Tempting.
She blinked at him, then glanced away. The blanket had slipped from his shoulders and the stir of the air against his skin reminded him that he was half-naked before this maiden. Blood gathered in his loins alarmingly.
“Mei Lin?” His voice came out thick and huskier than he had expected.
Her mouth pressed tight. It was then that he noticed the glint of the butterfly sword in her hand.
“Shen Leung, you are going to die tonight.”
She lunged at him and his pulse jumped, survival instinct taking over. He flung his quilt at her and she stumbled, temporarily blinded. He scrambled for his sword. Mei Lin was pinpoint-precise with those blades and she might be aiming for something lower than his heart.
Her knee struck the edge of the cot and she struggled to regain balance. She ended up sprawled over his thighs and the wooden frame cracked beneath him. They crashed to the ground in a heap of arms and legs.
The shattered fragments of the cot dug into his back as he tried to catch his breath. The sword fell from her grasp, but that didn’t stop Mei Lin. Her elbow struck his ribs when she reached for his throat. She didn’t feel nearly as soft as she looked.
“Bastard!”
He caught her wrists. “Lady Wu—”
“Don’t you talk to me.”
Her knee jammed precariously close to his groin. He flipped her onto her back and anchored her down with his weight pressed over her. The glimpse he caught of her eyes promised murder.
“What has got into you?”
The sound of footsteps came running from the house. He shoved the door closed with his foot and clamped a hand over her mouth, using his free arm to pin her wrists to the floor.
“Master Shen? We heard a sound.”
Voices hovered just outside while Mei Lin squirmed like a wild fox beneath him, her cries muffled by his hand.
“I’m fine. I just fell—”
He bit off a curse as the demon girl bit down hard.
“Are you all right?” the merchant asked.
“Yes! Please go back to bed, Master Wang.”
He tried to shake his hand free of Mei Lin’s teeth while still keeping her gagged. She only dug in deeper and glared at him. How had he ever imagined her to be sweet? He must have been bewitched.
The footsteps finally retreated and he pulled his hand free.
“I was trying to protect your reputation!”
She strained against his hold. “Why won’t you marry me?”
“Marry you? Why would anyone want to marry you?” His hand throbbed mercilessly. “You’re the meanest woman alive.”
“Dog-faced...bastard.”
“And the most foul-mouthed.”
She started struggling again and he made sure to keep her pinned. He didn’t trust what she’d do to him if she even had a hand free. Unfortunately his body was responding to being pressed so close to warm, feminine flesh and it wasn’t at all thinking of self-preservation.
“If you didn’t want to marry me, why did you bother with the fight?” she demanded.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Don’t you know?” Some of the hostility drained from her. “Didn’t they tell you about the challenge?”
She told him about the magistrate who tried to force her into marriage. “It was the only way I could think to escape,” she said bitterly. “But it only made matters worse. When I realized that Zhou hadn’t sent you, I thought...”
She looked away. He struggled with the right words, but couldn’t find them. It angered him that an appointed official would abuse his power in such a way.
“It wasn’t my intention to embarrass you,” he said.
“I know that now.”
Her voice broke at the last part and it was all he could do to keep from kissing her. They spoke in whispers, pressed close like lovers once he relaxed his hold. If she only knew how desirable he’d found her from the very first moment. The swordfight had been a welcome excuse to approach her.
Of course, the fools at the tavern hadn’t told him the whole story. They’d piqued his curiosity by boasting about the girl with the butterfly swords and then goaded him into the duel. Now she’d been publicly humiliated and there was nothing he could do to set it right.
They were still lying among the wreckage of the sleeping cot with the quilt tangled between them. She went still and soft beneath him. He could feel her heart beating against his chest. The last dregs of wine still swam in his blood and he sank his head down over her shoulder. The day had brought a long journey, an unexpected duel, several rounds of drinking and then finally this wild tussle with a beautiful she-demon. The scent of her hair assailed him. Orange blossoms mixed with something mysterious and feminine.
“You smell nice,” he said dully.
She said nothing. All he did was turn his face the slightest bit and his cheek brushed inadvertently against hers. Smooth, cool skin.
He inhaled. “You wore perfume to come and kill me?”
A ribbon of tension rippled through her, but nothing for him to be alarmed at. Yet. She took a long, shuddering breath before she spoke.
“I wasn’t coming here to kill you at first.”
“No?” He couldn’t help himself. He burrowed into the space above her shoulder. His lips brushed her neck. Just enough to still be accidental. He hoped.
“I first thought I would...I came here to...” She let out a sigh, defeated. “I thought I would seduce you.”
Fierce, hot lust slammed into him. He stiffened and hoped that the quilt was strategically wedged between them.
“But when I saw you, I realized I had no idea how to seduce a man. So I thought it would just be easier to kill you.”
Laughter erupted out of him. “Mei Lin, there is no other woman like you.”
“Stop it. Stop laughing at me.” She was on the verge of tears. “You must understand that either you marry me or one of us must die. I won’t be able to live with the shame otherwise.”
“I’ve been in the highest courts of the land and no one would say such a thing.”
“I’ll be ridiculed!” She slapped the ground in frustration. “An outcast.”
He fought the urge to take her in his arms. Instead, he straightened and moved away. His body was so heavy with arousal that he needed the distance or he wouldn’t be able to trust himself. The headiness of the wine had faded, but her touch made him more drunk than any spirit.
Fumbling around in the dark, he found the oil lamp Wang had left behind and lit the dish before placing it between them on the floor. Mei Lin sat up and blinked at him through the halo of light. She scanned the wreckage around them, looking lost. Her hair had fallen loose in the struggle and it flowed over her shoulders like water.
Barely able to catch his breath, he sat back, painfully erect. If only he were in the wild plains of the north. If these were still his brash, younger days.
“So this man, Zhou. Is he making things difficult for you?”
“He’s just an old goat,” she muttered. “I don’t want to waste my breath even talking about him.”
“What are you doing offering yourself in an appalling contest like this? You’re a remarkable woman, Mei Lin. Talented and—” He took a breath. “Beautiful.”
She looked down at
her feet, blushing furiously. “You say these things, yet you won’t marry me.”
“A woman such as Lady Wu doesn’t need a worthless scoundrel like me.”
“I’m not a lady,” she sulked. “No one will ever want to marry me.”
The teeth marks glared red against the heel of his palm. She was vicious one moment and demure the next. A confusing, enticing combination. He tried to be rational.
“Of course they will. What about that boy—Wang?”
Even before the words left his mouth, a rash of anger spiked through him at the thought of Mei Lin with any other man.
She scowled at him. “Are you throwing me to that imbecile Wang because you won’t have me?”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“They say that honor is everything to Shen Leung,” she challenged.
“They say many things.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. He would have preferred to not have such a reputation, but no one could control the way stories spread. People expected the impossible from him. Even the imperial court believed he could convince errant warlords to swear loyalty and bring traitors to justice. No man could live up to such expectations.
“If I could correct this, I would,” he said. “But how can I marry you? I have nothing but these empty hands. No property, no money—”
“I don’t care about those things.”
Her voice grew quiet. She was looking at him with dark and vulnerable eyes. It was impossible to try to speak reasonably when his body was demanding that he take what she offered. All that softness, all that warmth.
It wasn’t only his body reacting. He longed for much, much more from Mei Lin than a brief night in the dark, but it was impossible. Heroic poems aside, he was of mixed blood with nothing to offer.
“Mei Lin.” Heaven, even saying her name aroused him. “You need to go.”
Her expression hardened and she shoved the quilt away with her foot. “Fine, I’ll go.” She glanced around until she spied the hilt of her sword buried beneath a wooden plank. “But there is something you should know about our swordfight.”
