by Jeannie Lin
His frown deepened as if he could read her thoughts. He turned and stormed from the room, striking the door frame in anger as he passed. After a moment to steady herself, she followed him out into the courtyard.
She found Chen tugging at the doors of the front gate, both hands gripped around the brass rings. The wood creaked and rattled, but the doors held. They’d been chained from the outside.
“I knew that you couldn’t be swayed. Not a man with your code of honor,” she said to his back. “But all we needed was time. How long until Li Tao assumes you’ve failed? My brother has until then to find a safe place.”
He swung around. “I’ll be out of here before then.”
“The Yao family still owes you a debt,” she continued, hiding behind formality. It was hard to look at Wei Chen in the daylight, after giving a part of herself to him. After knowing how tender he could be in the night. “If you hadn’t convinced the governor to let you go after Ru Shan yourself, we wouldn’t have this chance.”
She prayed her brother wouldn’t learn about Chen and try to return. That was probably what the two of them wanted: honorable battle, face to face. The fools.
“Don’t say that name to me.” Chen paced toward her. The hardened warrior was finally showing. “He told me you were right-minded and honest.”
“Well, now you know I’m none of those things.”
“Two faces,” he spat. Chen glared at her with a mixture of anger and disgust and her soul withered. “Exactly like your brother.”
* * *
River disappeared into the recesses of the house while Chen circled the courtyard like a caged wolf. That was the only way to describe how he felt. Feral and prowling. It was good that she’d left him. He was ready to lash out at anything to rid himself of this rage.
Her every sigh had been a betrayal.
He wasn’t going to think of her or her nameless dog of a brother. Instead Chen stared at the walls. The brick had been piled unusually high, as if the elder Yao had feared thieves this far outside of town.
A search of the storage areas and servants’ quarters yielded nothing. Of course River wouldn’t leave anything as useful as a ladder. If he stacked furniture beside the wall, he might be able to climb over.
He scavenged through the rooms of the abandoned house. The desk in the study appeared heavy, but he could probably drag it outside. He wasn’t certain the dining table would fit through the doors. The rest of the tables and chairs were low, but he could stack them.
Chen rolled up his sleeves. In the later part of the hour, he managed to heave and shove the pine wood desk from the study into the courtyard. It was solidly built and he was sweating in the midday sun. He needed the hard labor to burn the memory of River from his skin. She was still there, all around him, inside him.
River was likely laughing at him. Her less than nefarious plan, his less than glorious escape.
He dug his heels into the dirt and pushed against the desk with all his strength. The smell of smoke drifted into the courtyard. Something was burning.
He abandoned the cursed desk and traced the acrid odor to the kitchen at the eastern wing of the residence. River was standing fearfully over an iron pot on the stove. The lid bobbled from the heat trapped beneath. She reached for the handle, then jumped back, yelping in pain.
“What are you doing?” Chen grabbed a rag from the chopping block and moved the pot away from the stove.
“I was hungry,” she snapped.
He lifted the lid and turned away from the rise of steam. The smoke made him cough. The rice was both burnt and uncooked on top. A feat indeed.
“There’s not nearly enough water and you need to stir it.” He was no cook, but he had boiled enough rice by a campfire to know.
Her chin jutted out defiantly. “I’ll try again, then.” She stuck her scalded finger into her mouth to soothe it, suddenly looking very young and vulnerable.
She’d looked just as lost when she’d propositioned him. When he’d taken her into his arms, she’d trembled and clung to him. She might have tried to deceive him for the sake of her brother, but if he’d been lured into a trap, it was because he’d wanted to be.
He knew then that he was already in love with her.
Chen said nothing as the realization took awful root in his chest. River hadn’t seduced him. He’d been in love with her before he ever saw her. He had come here with his soul open, waiting for the sight and shape of her to lock into its rightful place in his heart.
He fought hard not to let his emotions show as he led River to the basin and guided her hand under the water. A small welt had formed over her fingers and the skin was red, but it wasn’t all that bad. Still, he held on to her wrist beneath the cool water.
“It—it’s better now,” she said.
Her voice curled around his heart and stole his breath. He released her, going both hot and cold at once. The inevitable confrontation with Ru Shan would tear out Chen’s soul and leave him gutted. It would be like falling on his own blade—but nothing so clean and quick.
“Your plan would have worked better if you had put a knife in me while I was sleeping,” he muttered.
River made a show of scraping at the pot, her back turned to him. “My kitchen skills are quite lacking. I know less about knives than I do about cooking.”
The conversation dwindled away, but Chen found it hard to leave the kitchen. Other than the pain twisting like a blade in his gut, nothing had changed. He still needed to bring Ru Shan to justice. Yet he had another duty to protect River. Not only because they had been promised to each other in an arranged marriage by her brother. River belonged to him. She’d given herself to him and he’d accepted. Which meant he belonged to her, as well.
If she ever realized that, then he would truly be lost.
He retrieved more wood for the stove while River started another batch of rice. Together they scrounged the kitchen for odds and ends: cold dumplings, some yams that were easy to boil, salted duck eggs. This time the rice was mushy, but at least edible. They piled everything onto a tray and went to sit at the same table where River had presented him with a feast the night before. A feast neither of them had been able to enjoy.
Chen positioned himself with the tray between them. River selected a dumpling with her chopsticks and bit carefully into it. He watched her eat, his heart growing heavier with each passing moment. She was wearing the somber robe he’d first seen her in with the collar closed high over her neck. There was no need to tempt him any longer.
“Why would you give yourself to the man who was going to kill your brother?” he asked.
There wasn’t as much force behind his question as he’d wanted. He was drained from more than just pushing Yao’s desk through the yard.
She stared at the center of his chest. “Isn’t it plain enough? Even an impenetrable warrior can be distracted in the bedroom.”
The dear girl couldn’t lie.
“Your virtue isn’t worth the sacrifice,” he said evenly.
“As if my virtue is worth anything.” She met his eyes then. “Look around us. Our home is gone. Our name, gone.”
He bit savagely into an egg. The saltiness lodged in his throat. He didn’t know if he was angrier at her or for her. “It didn’t have to be this way. Li Tao would have left you alone.”
“If we had denied Ru Shan and turned him in,” she countered bitterly. “What would warriors like you think of that sort of disloyalty?”
“You didn’t answer my question. Why did you give yourself to me? I know you weren’t pretending.”
She blushed. “You had wine. You could be mistaken.”
“I remember every moment, River.”
River was no skilled seductress and he wasn’t blind. She had clung to him, cried out his name. But desire and intention were not
the same. The room fell silent except for the methodic click of her chopsticks as River became enthralled by their sparse meal. She swallowed slowly, staring into her bowl. He let her have the pause.
“You were never going to kill Ru Shan,” she said finally.
“Because of your plan?” he challenged.
“Because I know you.”
Her words struck like a blow to his gut. “You don’t know me.”
She set the chopsticks down. “I know you, Wei Chen,” she repeated, with more hope than certainty. She searched his face with her eyes. “You came here looking for something besides Ru Shan. You were hoping to be dissuaded.”
“That’s not true.”
“In your soul, you don’t want to do this.”
Her voice trembled, but then she stopped cold, embarrassed by her outburst. Chen sat rigid beside her. He could see how much she wanted to believe it—so much that he even doubted himself for a threadbare moment. He was searching frantically, reaching for something he couldn’t name. Was it direction? Was it forgiveness?
Then River stood to go, leaving emptiness in her wake. Eventually he stood and returned to the courtyard, where he stared at the abandoned furniture. River had disappeared into the depths of the inner chambers. He could no longer see her, but he could sense her there.
He resumed his efforts, shoving the desk against the wall and then going to scavenge more furniture. He’d never turned his back on duty. Soon he’d climb free and continue his hunt. Ru Shan was days away, a week at most.
He’d leave what happened here out of his report to Governor Li. Outside of these walls, he’d insist that he’d never seen River or spoken to her. Or touched her. She’d remain safe as long as she stayed away from Ru Shan and away from him. That was all he could give.
The afternoon sun had begun its gradual descent. Chen threw himself into his work. He tried to focus on this one task and nothing more, but the loneliness devoured him from within. There was no peace.
CHAPTER FIVE
For the rest of the afternoon, Chen dragged furniture out into the courtyard. He attempted to stack the tables beside the lowest point of the wall near the gate. River hovered at the edges of the courtyard to watch him labor away. She never doubted he would find a way out. Their house wasn’t a fortress or a prison. Not like the one she’d be thrown in when Li Tao’s men caught her. Or would Chen turn her in himself?
For a dim moment, she saw the point of his desolate warrior logic—better to meet your end at the hands of someone who knew you. Who, at one time, cared for you.
Night came swiftly. She retired to her own chamber and her own bed only to find she couldn’t sleep. The lanterns burned away and the movement of the shadows over the walls kept her company. Maybe she had chosen to lock herself in with Chen out of protest. Deep in her heart, she resented having to abandon their home and their life.
A silhouette appeared outside the window and her pulse skipped. Chen hesitated there. Holding her breath, she watched his shape through the paper windowpane. If he moved away, she didn’t know if she was brave enough to call after him. Her heart was already torn into jagged pieces.
After too long a pause, Chen entered without knocking. His sleeves were rolled up over his forearms and his skin glistened from physical exertion. The lantern light washed over him in a warm glow. Her mouth went dry. He was handsome, she realized with dismay.
It was just too much for her to find him handsome now on top of everything else she felt about him.
“It’s cold in here.” He came to the bed as she had done in his room the night before.
She shrank a little beneath the quilt. “I was afraid if I tried to light the coals, I might set the bed on fire.”
He didn’t smile. “By tomorrow morning, I’ll be gone.”
“Then we have nothing more to say.” The chill around her came from inside and out. It was inescapable.
“There’s something I need to know before I go.”
He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed. The gesture should have been only a small intimacy after he’d taken her virtue and brought her to the highest tide of pleasure. Yet her breathing grew shallow at his nearness. She tracked every shift of his weight beside her.
“You didn’t come to me as part of some devious plan,” he said calmly. “Tell me why you did it.”
She couldn’t. Already her skin warmed and her muscles loosened. The sound of her voice alone would give away how much she wanted him.
He placed a hand over her ankle. His grip was firm through the layers of the quilt and she savored the heat of his touch. Chen had come to claim her. From the moment he’d set foot in their shop, he’d claimed her.
River squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t have an answer for you.”
He made a move as if to rise, and she sat up in a panic. If he left, she’d die of heartache.
“We were going into hiding. Ru Shan was talking of rebellion,” she explained. “I wanted to know what it was like between a man and a woman before I died.” Her next pause went on for a lifetime. “And I wanted to know...with you.”
His eyes sparked. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
The blanket became an unwanted barrier. River stared at the determined set of his lips. Shamefully, she remembered Chen’s promise to use his mouth on her. He hadn’t yet fulfilled that promise.
“I did want to trick you,” she continued faintly. “I wanted to seduce you, but I wasn’t any good at it.”
Chen’s gaze grew deeper, darker. He watched her expression while he shifted his hand higher onto her calf. Her sex flooded. She was so much more aware of her body now, so much more aware of his.
River peeled back the blanket to reach for him. His hair was disheveled from his labors in the courtyard. She pulled the tie loose so that it fell about his face.
“This is impossible,” he told her gently.
But he was here, when he could have gone.
She threaded her fingers through the dark strands. “I know.”
Then she kissed him. She was better at it tonight. Chen’s eyes closed, but she kept her eyes open. She wanted to be able to conjure his image long after he was gone. River had done everything to convince him, but Chen remained headstrong and unyielding. She’d tried to convince her brother, as well. These men lived by a code she would never understand.
This was why they called the midnight chamber the woman’s domain. This was all she could claim and all she could have. Private and hidden moments. She cradled his face in her hands, feeling the structure of his cheekbones beneath her fingertips. Chen circled his hands around her waist to bring her closer.
She removed his outer robe first, then his tunic. Her hands explored him, brushing over sculpted shoulders, and a torso lean with muscle. Chen permitted her touch, eyes closed, breathing deeply. Not the dominating and impassioned lover she’d known last night.
Her own heart was pounding. She was dizzy from the rush of her pulse, and his reticence confused her.
“Wei Chen?” She was begging and demanding at the same time.
A look of pain crossed his face and finally he opened his eyes. Her breath caught. She saw too much in them. Longing and fear and a desperate hunger.
“There is no one here but us,” she said.
She wasn’t going to let him fight this. She locked her arms around his shoulders, willing him to take her in his arms. Together, they lowered themselves onto the bed. He pulled her clothes away along with the last of his. Then he feasted.
Chen parted her legs and tasted her, as he’d promised. His tongue slicked over her once, lingering indulgently. Then again, soft and unerringly gentle. Her body went limp and she cried out her surrender, all shame gone, until he gave her more of what she needed. Soft and then hard, his hands digging into her hips to h
old her captive while she panted and writhed and climaxed. He continued to torment her until the last of her tremors eased.
Later she did the same. First caressing his sex with her lips, discovering smooth, silken skin over the hardness beneath. He exhaled sharply when she finally dared to take him into her mouth. She circled the broad tip with her tongue and his hand tightened in her hair.
“River.” His voice strained to the breaking point. “Stop. Please stop.”
Chen pulled away and stretched her flat on her back. He entered her in one swift thrust that stole her breath. River arched her back to accept him into her. Tonight the ache inside was familiar and welcome. There was no other pain or pleasure like it.
When her eyes opened again, he was watching her. His fingers twined with hers and held on as he withdrew in a slow glide before pushing deep again. Each movement resonated within her. Each shift sent exquisite sensation through every pulse point and meridian in her body, transforming into joy and elation and hope.
“Stay,” she sobbed.
Chen stilled above her. It was cruel of her to demand it now, but how could she not? Her eyes flooded with tears.
He kissed her tenderly, but wouldn’t answer. His body resumed its rhythm after a pause. Slower now, with purpose. His mouth closed around her breast. He wanted her release, willed it. She cleared her mind of everything but the feel of him, and soon she was shuddering in his arms. He followed closely behind. They found each other in climax.
They stayed awake in each other’s arms, refusing sleep, fighting the coming of morning. But it came nonetheless.
“You need to go quickly, River. Don’t tell me where.”
They stood on the path along the bank. The same one they had walked down together only two days ago. The residence was abandoned behind them.
Chen had scaled the stone wall and broken the chain over the gate. At first he was afraid River wouldn’t leave, but she went to him as the doors opened. A single travel pack was slung over her shoulder. Her look was sullen, with a storm cloud around her that wouldn’t lift. He wanted to draw her into his arms and hold on.
