by Jade Lee
She had no choice but to release the blade. It clattered to the floor where Jing-Li snatched it up. Then she waited in absolute stillness for him to release her. He did not. Instead, he whispered harshly into her ear.
“Isn’t lying against your religion, Sister Marie?” Except for her name, he spoke in court Mandarin. “Lie to me again, and I will kill you for breaking your vow to your white god.”
She swallowed, unsure what to do. And as she hesitated, his arm crept higher on her body, brushing past her breast up to tighten ever so slowly around her neck. She made a noise of distress, but it did not stop him. His arm was implacable as he began to cut off her breathing.
“Confess, little nun. Beg forgiveness for your sin.”
She need only stay silent. She knew that. The best lies were adhered to against all odds. In time, she could even convince herself that what she spoke was the truth. Stay silent! she ordered herself.
But she couldn’t do it. Not with the breath trapped tighter and tighter in her body. Not with Zhi-Gang’s free hand now slipping around her arm to press against her belly. She was flush against his body, his erection a hot presence against her hip. She felt him everywhere—against her back, wrapped around her belly and throat, even against her ear and cheek as his hot breath coiled around her face.
“Yes!” she cursed in his Mandarin dialect. Then she twisted abruptly, shoving him away with all her strength. He went nowhere. “Yes, I understand your lying speech. I know you will kill me despite your promise. So do not curse me for lying when you have no honor of your own.”
He released her then. Not because she had begun to fight him in earnest, but for some quixotic reason of his own. He even had the gall to smile at her as he clapped his hands.
“Excellent!” he cried, though she had no idea what he thought was so good. “We shall let Jing-Li clean up this mess, and then our evening can begin.” His eyes grew darker, his lids slipping to a sensuous pose. “I trust you will not bore me with ‘white God tales’?”
She swallowed, unsure how to respond. “No,” she finally whispered. “No morality plays. My stories are… of a different kind.”
He grinned. “I look forward to them.”
She bit her lip, knowing she should remain silent. But she was frightened and off balance. She could not stop herself from trying for some type of security. And if not security, then at least foreknowledge of what he expected.
“They are just tales, you know. Nuns are… Nuns do not…” She swallowed, knowing how ridiculous this was, given what she had been doing in her bath moments ago. But some men might be content with that—with simple viewing. It was a vain hope, but she clung to it nonetheless. “If I am to keep my vow of honesty, then I must keep my vow of chastity as well.” She lifted her chin. “Do you accept that? Will you honor that?”
He wouldn’t, of course. She knew. Hadn’t she just felt his erection hot and hard against her bottom? And yet she still waited in anxious silence as he studied her. Jing-Li watched as well, his brows contracted in thought as he obviously plotted something of his own. She wanted to look at him, to discover some clue as to what the servant/friend intended, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the Enforcer. His presence—even in silence—trapped her somehow. It was that powerful and that terrifying as she waited for his response.
In the end, he simply nodded and bent his head and upper body in a slight bow. “Of course I will honor the vows of any cleric, male or female. To disrespect that would taint my qi.”
She snapped back, startled by her own daring: “What happens to your qi when you kill a cleric?”
He grimaced. “Feng-Du punishes such crimes most severely.”
She frowned, not understanding.
“Feng-Du is where spirits are judged and punished after death. Demons torture those who commit evil crimes.”
“Hell,” she supplied. “We call it Hell.”
His smile seemed twisted somehow, but it was hard to tell as he gave another slight bow. “Exactly.” Then he turned, gesturing negligently to Jing-Li. “Clean up this mess, servant.” He grinned, obviously enjoying forcing his friend to wait upon him. “I believe I shall rest.”
Jing-Li tensed. His shoulders lifted and his face took on a dark, angry flush. “You push this ruse too far,” he growled. “You are no better than me. Less, by birth.”
The mandarin arched a finely sculpted brow. “And how much does your birth help you now? You hide from the Empress on the Enforcer’s boat.” He grinned. “You must act like what you pretend.”
“We are friends!” hissed Jing-Li.
The mandarin sobered, obviously answering a question neither had voiced. “We will find you a new place, Jing-Li,” he said softly. “Away from the Empress, you will be able to live freely again. Just not right now.” Then he stripped off his wet silk pants and tossed them at his friend.
Pretending to a modesty she didn’t want, Anna forced herself to turn away from this interesting conversation. No nun would allow herself to see the mandarin’s finely sculpted legs, and so she turned her back, but she kept listening closely, hoping for more clues about the man who held her captive. She heard nothing of use. Only his chuckle as he settled upon the cushions.
She heard his soft sigh as he stretched out and probably reclined, his hands behind his head as he quietly laughed at his friend’s work. And then she imagined that his gaze drifted to her, wandering over her body clad in this tight Chinese silk. She felt uncomfortable awareness prickle between her shoulder blades, tighten her breasts, and heat her belly. She pulled her exposed leg in close to her body, knowing it made no difference. The fabric was too torn. He could see all of her leg from the knee down.
Such exposure was not so uncommon, really. Though the cool temperature in the north made for heavy fabrics that covered everything, the southern provinces were vastly different. In Shanghai, for example, tight skirts were often slit way up the thigh, especially among a certain sort of woman. The sight of Anna’s knee and calf could hardly compete. Still, she felt his gaze burn there with erotic intensity. And yet, she dared not move away for fear that everything she imagined was simply that—her imagination—and moving away would bring on the attention she feared.
This made no sense. She knew that. And so, giving a muttered curse of disgust with herself, she stomped past Jing-Li to the toppled desk. She righted it quickly, then sat on the stool behind it. Once she was settled, she allowed herself to look at the Enforcer, this man who had haunted her dreams and now tormented her reality.
His eyes were closed, his chest shifting in the slow breathing of a man deeply asleep.
He slept like a man without fear: deeply and with total relaxation. He lay sprawled across the cushions, completely insensate, while Jing-Li finished cleaning and departed. Meanwhile, Anna sat on the stool, her thoughts weaving in and out as she longed for her own rest. After so many days of running, she was in sore need of sleep. In the end, she could not resist. She slipped off the stool to curl up on the hard deck. She did, of course, manage to quietly steal one of his pillows to tuck under her head.
She was asleep in moments, no doubt as deeply as he because when she next became aware of anything, her body ached from long inactivity and someone was singing badly nearby. It was loud singing, in that nasal baritone so loved by the Chinese. Much more interesting was the smell of dumplings sizzling in a pan.
She opened her eyes. She saw the tub again, dead center of the room, and the Enforcer’s long queue undone down his back. Indeed, at first she thought she viewed a woman, so beautiful was his dark curtain of hair. But then he began another chorus of whatever Chinese opera he was singing, and there was no mistaking his male voice. Neither could she mistake the broad expanse of his shoulders as he straightened in the tub.
“Did I wake you, little missionary? Are you awake yet?” The words were sung, and it took some moments for her to realize that he was singing his questions to her rather than intoning some operatic refrain.
“I thought nuns slept on hard boards all the time,” he sang. “Do you tell me that your body is unused—misused—not used—unused to such things?” He was clearly adding his own rhythms to a traditional melody.
She grimaced, wondering how he could know she was awake when all she could see of him was his back. Meanwhile, she managed to shift her legs and slowly roll to her knees. Her muscles protested the movement, but the change in blood flow was welcome if painful. Then she rolled her head a bit on her neck to remove a crick, only to stop halfway.
He had a mirror. Probably not a large one by his standards. It rested on another stool and was held in place by two hands—Jing-Li’s, no doubt. That mirror was angled perfectly so that he could watch her and she… She sat back on her heels. She could see him in all his naked glory. Well, everything from the waist up, that is.
He grinned at her, his eyes sparkling. Then he lifted a sponge high above his face and squeezed. Water gushed from his hand in an audible splat upon his chest. It was a broad chest, she realized, smooth and surprisingly muscled. His body didn’t bunch like so many of the brutes in her adopted father’s employ. Instead, the Enforcer seemed to have a lean strength, his tone and form much too… too… interesting for her tastes. Especially as it made him an effective killing machine.
She dropped her eyes to maneuver her feet underneath her. Her hip was tingling with renewed blood and her left foot still had little control, but she managed nonetheless. The sting from the scrape along her thigh helped focus her thoughts. Finally, she was able to force her body upright. She stood with little grace, but at least she didn’t knock anything over.
The Enforcer made a gesture, and Jing-Li tilted the mirror back so that she had a fuller view of his naked torso. He—presumably—had a better view of her, too. She bit her lip, wondering what game he was playing. From this angle she could see all of his muscled chest in front of the sleek curtain of his black hair. His skin was golden in color and absolutely smooth as it rippled across his broad form and narrowed in at his waist.
Then he grinned and reclined backwards in the tub, stretching his arms high above his head. “My goodness, Jing-Li, I do believe that I have tired of singing.”
“Praise Heaven,” his friend intoned from behind the mirror.
“I wonder, then, what else I might do to pass the time. What else could one do in a bath?”
Anna’s gaze snapped back to his face. His eyes were alight with mischief, and his expression challenged her to… to do something. Obviously he knew what she’d done before in her own bath. Given his expression, she knew she’d guessed correctly. He had indeed been watching her. Strange, how that thought didn’t bother her as much as it should. She ought to feel humiliated by his not-so-private teasing. And she did—a bit. She also felt a strange exhilaration building inside her, another affirmation of life in this game she played with the mandarin.
One of the things she’d learned about the Chinese is that they were as circumspect about sexual activities as the English—in public. More so, in fact. But in private—between a husband and his wives—a great deal of exploration took place, especially among the wealthy elite. The most scandalous things were whispered among the married ladies when she wasn’t supposed to hear. Obviously, the Enforcer was indeed of the elite. Of the frankly sexual elite.
While she tried not to stare, he was making exaggerated motions with his arm. She couldn’t see if he actually stroked himself; the edge of the tub blocked her view. But his motions were meant to be explicit.
She continued to chew on her lip, wondering what to do. She had seen a naked male organ before. Her work at the hospital, for one, had stripped all of that modesty long ago. But she was supposed to be a nun who—presumably—was innocent. Except, she was obviously not nearly as innocent as appeared, given what her bath had been like.
She pulled her lip out of her teeth and firmed her jaw. Her own dithering was beginning to irritate her. The Enforcer obviously delighted in tormenting his victims. This was just a different method of torture. But it also told her something about him. He enjoyed the unusual. He was obviously delighted by her bath-time activity. And now, he teased her about it to see if she would give him another unconventional reaction. Very well. She would work on being peculiar. She was, after all, supposed to entertain him tonight. Besides, she had never been the kind of person to look away.
She stepped out from behind the desk, her eyes trained on the Enforcer’s reflection. “Good evening, great sir,” she began formally. “I thank you for allowing me to sleep. It was most kind of you.”
She remained behind the tub, but her angle of view in the mirror increased the further she walked into the room. One more step and… yes, she could see past the lip of the tub to his most private part. Or would have if his hand and the sponge were not blocking her view.
Her gaze canted up to meet his eyes in the mirror, and she arched a brow, silently challenging his modesty. His smile widened as he obviously enjoyed her game. “You looked so sweet sleeping—like a child curled around a treat. I could not bear to wake you.”
“Most kind of you,” she murmured, shifting her weight to the side as she moved around the desk. He shifted the sponge accordingly. Her lips curved into a smile. “Was Jing-Li born higher than you?”
She’d succeeded in startling him, as his hand and expression froze. Jing-Li was not so affected. He leaned around the mirror and smirked.
“I only ask because you are so kind to me—a concubine wife whom you are about to kill—and yet so cruel to your friend whom you have known since… childhood?” She was guessing, but from their earlier conversation she knew she was right. She took another step forward. “Was it hard, great sir, being the one always thought lower in status, less worthy because of a simple accident of birth?”
The mandarin’s eyes narrowed and his gaze slipped to Jing-Li. “Yes,” he answered simply, but there was a wealth of understatement in the one word.
“A good thing you were not born a woman,” Anna drawled. “I do not think you would have tolerated it well. The smarter female always has a difficult time.”
“Pah!” he responded, sloshing the bathwater in his vehemence. “There are no smart women.”
She had sidled closer to the tub. Her angle now allowed her to look down directly, but he still kept the sponge carefully resting so that she could not see anything of importance. “Do you think so?” she mused. “Then you must think that we women couldn’t possibly be as brave or bold as one such as you—a male in the prime of his life, and a scholar as well.”
The mandarin shrugged. “It is so.”
She arched a brow at Jing-Li and the man’s arrogance, but Jing-Li merely shrugged. Obviously, he thought so as well. She carefully adjusted her skirts and knelt down beside the tub. The mandarin shifted position so that he looked directly at her. That suited her purpose just fine. It only brought her target that much closer.
“You have not found any woman more clever than you?” she asked.
He sneered.
“More brave? Perhaps your mother. She did brave childbirth for you.”
“Very true, but children are a woman’s purpose. To avoid it out of fear would mean to be completely useless.”
“My, that is certainly a male perspective.” Anna reached down as fast as she could and snatched the sponge from its resting place. His sex lay thick and heavy against his thigh. She openly stared at its shape and length. “And this is certainly another perspective.”
He said nothing and so she slowly, reluctantly lifted her gaze to see his face. He was grinning, his eyes sparkling. “And now you see what you wished. And I have delighted myself in allowing you to do as you secretly desired.”
She nodde
d, as if she’d known all along that he would allow her to reveal himself fully to her. And perhaps she had. Only a man comfortable with himself would bathe in front of a woman. So she tossed aside the sponge, then carefully maneuvered her legs in her tight Chinese gown. It took some work, but in the end, she sat on the ground, her arms folded atop the edge of the tub, her chin resting on her hands.
“Oh,” she murmured in mock defeat. “Well, then go ahead.”
He frowned, clearly not understanding. She had fooled him! Glee bubbled up inside her, but she kept it carefully hidden as she straightened in dismay. “I thought you said you planned for this.”
“Of course!” He leaned back, silently offering his organ. He apparently expected that she would try to buy her freedom.
This time she couldn’t stop a small smile. “Well then, prove me wrong. Prove that I was not more daring and more clever than you.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Woman, you are illogical and stupid. Do you not understand what you are to now do?”
She shrugged in pretend confusion. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I knew you were watching me this afternoon. And yet I acted in the full knowledge that I did so for your entertainment. Do you say that you are not equally brave, equally capable?”
He blinked, then his eyes widened. “You do not intend to… ?”
She pulled back. “I did not have help. Do you say you are incapable of doing it yourself? Tsk tsk.” She shook her head. “And yet you claim you are more skilled, more clever than women.”
His expression darkened, but not so Jing-Li. The man burst out in barely restrained laughter. “He is capable, woman. As a child, it was the only way—”
“Get out!” roared the mandarin.
With perfect ease, Jing-Li set the mirror aside, then bowed. “Of course, Zhi-Gang,” he said in an undertone to the floor. “It is a brave and clever thing you do,” he taunted. “I understand you want no witnesses should you fail.”
