by mag
His eyelids fluttered open. A slow smile crossed his face and his arms tightened around her. "Bethany," he whispered. He kissed her and when her mouth trembled under his he told her how wonderful the night had been.
Last night? But last night had been a dream, a dream of Flowering Peach and her lover. It hadn't been real. It wasn't me, she wanted to cry. It was her, that other girl from long ago. But how could she tell him? How could she explain?
Bethany turned her face away so that she could look at the dragon. Its golden body gleamed in the sun. The green eyes looked into hers and she was touched by their sadness. Oh please, her heart cried out. What is it? What do you want?
"Bethany?" Tiger captured her chin and brought her face close to his. He kissed her eyelids closed and feathered soft kisses over her cheeks. "I love you," he whispered against her mouth. "I want to marry you and have children with you."
"Marry...?" Her eyes opened. "Tiger, I don't know. I—"
"You must know how I feel about you, Bethany. I'd like to talk about it now, but if you don't want to then we'll discuss it when we're back in Tsingyun." His arms tightened around her. "But I won't let you go, Bethany. I am going to marry you."
Before she could answer Tiger covered her mouth with his, crushing her protests before she could utter them. He would have her, he told himself, not just for now, but forever. After last night, after she had given and taken so wildly, so freely, she could not deny that she was his; that he was hers. They were one now, always and forever, united by the bonds of eternal love.
With shaking urgency Tiger said, "I love you, Bethany. I want you, I want you now." He felt her pulling back and suddenly he was bewildered, afraid, unable to understand that the Bethany who'd made such wonderful love to him last night was the Bethany he now held in his arms. He wanted to call her back. He wanted the woman who loved him last night to love him again, soar with him again. "Oh God," Tiger murmured, then with a low cry of need he joined his body to hers. He held her possessively, fiercely, stopping her cry of protest with a kiss as his arms went around her, rocking her to him in an exultation of love. And suddenly Bethany was his again. Her mouth softened, her lips parted. She put her arms around him, held him close and lifted her body to his in complete surrender.
It was too urgent, too fast. It ended in a burst of passion that left them breathless. His body covered hers, he buried his face in the hollow between her throat and shoulder, breathing in the scent of her, knowing that he would never get enough.
They lay for a long time without speaking, still in the position of love, reluctant to part.
"I love you," Tiger said.
"And I love you." Bethany kissed the top of his head. She looked over at the golden dragon. "I love you," she said again.
After their clean clothes were delivered they showered and dressed. "I think it would be all right to go downstairs for breakfast," Tiger said, "but we'd better take the statue with us."
He wrapped it in the scarlet silk and put it back in the box. Then he took Bethany's arm and led her downstairs to the small hotel dining room.
Bethany was silent during breakfast. There was something she had to tell Tiger, but she wasn't sure how to begin.
Over their last cup of tea, Tiger said, "When we finish I'll take you back to the room. Then I'll go to see about our transportation. If there's a flight tonight we'll take it. If not, we'll wait until tomorrow."
Bethany nodded. "It'll be good to get back to Tsingyun," she said. "I've missed your mother."
"I'm glad the two of you like each other." Tiger smiled at her across the table. "I was afraid at f weren't going to get along."
"So was I." She added sugar to her tea. ''We're wry different in most ways, Tiger. But in the most important way we're alike."
One dark eyebrow raised. "In what way?"
"We both love you."
Tiger covered her hand with his, but before he could speak, Bethany said, "Tiger, I have to talk to you."
"Of course, Bethany, what is it?"
She shook her head. "Not here."
His gaze met hers across the table. Her gray eyes were serious. He nodded and stood up.
They went back to the room without speaking. When they went in Tiger closed the door. He put the box on the bed and turning to her said, "What is it, Bethany?"
"The dragon." Bethany sank down on the bed and rested her hand on the box. For a moment she didn't speak, then she said, "I don't want to sell him."
Tiger's eyebrows came together in a puzzled frown. "What are you talking about?" He sat down on the bed next to her and took her hand.
"We can't sell him," she said again, "We don't know what would happen to him if we did. What if somebody melted him down for the gold? What if—"
"I doubt anyone would do that, Bethany."
"But we can't be sure."
"No, but—"
"The men who've been after us...they're ruthless men, Tiger. They're only interested in the money he'll bring. They're not interested in his beauty, his—"
"His beauty?" Tiger looked at her curiously. "The statue is an it, Bethany, not a him." He stood up. He walked to the window, then back. "I don't understand you," he said. "We started on this trip with the idea that we were going to get the dragon and return to Hong Kong and sell it. I've wanted to forget it, let it go, but you wouldn't let me. Now you want to give the statue away. You're acting as though the dragon was real, as though it was alive."
Bethany stared at Tiger, then with a cry she covered her face with her hands. She knew she was being ridiculous. The golden dragon was worth a great deal of money and they'd agreed to sell it. But oh God, what if the person they sold it to didn't see his beauty? What if they melted the dragon down for the gold?
"Bethany?" Tiger's hands were on her shoulders. "Tell me," he said, "what is it you want to do with the statue?"
She raised her head and looked at him. "I...I want to give it to a museum," she whispered. "There's one here, we could see it from the monastery. I want to take him there, where everyone can see him and know that love, that the love he and Flowering Peach shared is eternal."
Tiger's hands tightened on her shoulders. He didn't understand what she was saying, but he knew how important this was to her. And how important she was to him. He looked into her tear-filled gray eyes and his heart swelled with love. "All right," he said in a gentle voice. "All right, Bethany, we'll do as you say. We'll give him to the museum."
"Oh, Tiger." Bethany leaned her face against his chest. "Today," she said, "we'll go today."
He nodded. "But first I want to make arrangements for a flight out of here because there may be only one or two a week. I'll see about tickets, then I'll come back and we'll go to the museum." Tiger held her away from him. "If that's really what you want."
"It's what I want," Bethany said.
"But before, when I told you I wanted to give up our pursuit of the dragon you wouldn't agree. What made you change your mind, Bethany?"
"I hadn't seen him then. I didn't know how beautiful he was." With trembling fingers she undid the string around the box, and brushing aside the silk, picked up the golden dragon. He was heavy, but she didn't mind the weight, for again it seemed to her that she could feel the quiver of life beneath her fingertips. "He doesn't belong to us, Tiger," she said softly. "He belongs to China."
Tiger touched her cropped black hair. He knew that he loved Bethany more in that moment than he'd ever thought it possible to love anyone. He watched as she put the dragon on the bed. He saw the way her fingers lingered on the statue's face as she tenderly traced the tear that marred the golden cheek.
"I want you to stay here and lock the door behind me," he said when he got to his feet. "I don't know how long I'll be. I'm going to the airline office and that usually takes a lot of time here in China."
Bethany smiled up at him. Now that she had made the decision she felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. When Tiger took her hands and pulled
her up, she went willingly into his arms.
"I'm asking you to give up a great deal, Tiger," Bethany said. "I know how valuable the statue is, I know the kind of financial security it could give you. But I feel... I know that this is the right thing to do."
Tiger kissed her. "So do I, Bethany."
"Thank you, Tiger."
He held her for a moment, then, reluctantly, let her go. "I may be gone for several hours," he said. "Stay here, Bethany. I don't want you out on the street without me."
"I won't leave."
"And lock the door."
"I will." She kissed his cheek. He opened the door and stood for a moment looking at her. "Lock the door behind me," he said again.
Bethany listened to his steps receding down the corridor. It's going to be all right, she thought. We'll take the golden dragon to the museum where he'll be safe, where other lovers will see him.
With a happy sigh Bethany went to stand by the window. She looked out at the busy street, waiting for Tiger to emerge from the hotel. When she saw him she smiled and thought how much she loved him and of the life they would have together.
Then Bethany's smile faded. She gasped and her hands tightened on the window sill. Two men stood by a lamppost. They were watching Tiger. She'd seen them before. One of them had been driving the car when she'd been kidnapped; the other man she'd seen on the train just before she jumped.
Bethany cried a warning, even though she knew Tiger couldn't hear her. But the men didn't go after Tiger; they only watched, and waited until he disappeared into the crowd.
The man from the train said something to the other man. Then they walked across the street toward the hotel. One entered, the other positioned himself at the corner of the busy street. They were coming here! After the dragon. After her.
Bethany stood frozen, then with an anguished cry she picked up the golden dragon and put him into the wicker basket. They mustn't get him. They mustn't! She jammed the Mao hat on her head* took the basket, and without a backward look fled from the room.
Chapter 18
Bethany ran down the hall to the back stairs. There was no door, only the open stairs leading down to the working part of the hotel. As she plunged down them she heard footsteps running in the corridor above.
She ran, clutching the heavy basket in one hand, the railing with the other. Almost at the bottom she heard a shout from above, and looking up saw the man from the train peering down from the top of the stairwell. With a cry of terror Bethany leaped down the rest of the stairs and when she reached the door at the bottom flung it open. She was in an empty laundry room. Jumping over piles of dirty laundry, she ran through the room, saw another door and pushed it open.
Startled faces looked up from soup pots and steaming kettles. Bethany glanced quickly around the kitchen, frantic to find a way out, knowing the man from the train would follow her in here. She ran around a table where a cook in a tall hat was slicing vegetables. He shouted something and waved his knife at her, but she ignored him as she looked around searching for a way out. Suddenly, the door she'd entered burst open. Voices raised to an excited pitch as a man with a gun burst into the kitchen.
Bethany ran around the table. She saw a door and headed for it, pushing the vegetable man out of the way as she glanced over her shoulder. The man from the train was only a few steps behind her. She darted around a stove that held a pot of steaming soup, gave it a shove with her free hand, then spurted ahead as the steaming liquid caught her pursuer. He screamed as she raced through the door, up a short flight of stairs, to the street.
Gasping for breath, aware that her hand was burned but not caring, Bethany looked up and down the street. Suddenly she froze. The other man, the chauffeur of the car that had kidnapped her, stood only a yard or two away, looking up at the hotel. Her hand tightened around the handle of the basket. The man from the kitchen, unless he was badly hurt, would come through the door behind any second now. She had to get away.
Be calm, she told herself. Be calm. She pulled the cap lower on her face, then taking a deep breath, stepped out onto the crowded street.
Bethany made herself walk without seeming haste past other pedestrians. Keep your head down, she told herself. Don't panic. Don't—
A shout went up behind her. She darted a glance over her shoulder. The man who'd been after her in the hotel, a towel clutched to his face, was with the chauffeur who'd been positioned at the corner. He screamed in anger and pointed toward her.
Bethany plunged past the people in front of her, pushing them aside as she raced toward the end of the street. At the corner she paused, stopped, saw a narrow alley and ran into it. Other, smaller passageways, branched off the alley. She ran on, scarcely aware of the heavy burden she carried. I'll be all right if I can get to the end of the alley before they see me, she told herself. She was almost there, another few steps and she'd... She stopped. My God, there wasn't any exit! She was caught in a dead-end passage. Behind her she heard a shout.
Bethany looked wildly around, then, without conscious thought, turned into one of the passageways, opened the nearest door and plunged inside.
An old man was bent over a sewing machine. He looked up, startled, then said something she didn't understand.
"Two men are after me," Bethany cried. "Please help me. Please..." And almost wept in frustration because she knew the tailor didn't understand her.
He got up from his machine and began waving his arms at her.
"Please," Bethany said again. "Please help me."
Heavy footsteps were running in the passageway, angry voices were raised as fists began pounding on the neighboring doors. In another moment they'd be at the tailor's door. They'd have her; they'd have the golden dragon.
Feeling as though her heart would surely burst from her chest, Bethany searched frantically for an escape. The old man grabbed her arm. He spoke again, but she didn't understand. Skinny fingers dug into her arm. He pulled her after him and she had no choice but to follow him as he led her to a corner of the room and pulled back a rug. He lifted a small brass ring, opened a two-foot-wide trapdoor and beckoned to her.
For a moment Bethany hesitated. Someone pounded on the door. She glanced at the tailor and quickly lowered herself into the opening. The door closed over her head. She heard him shuffle away and cry out in an impatient voice. Then other voices, angry voices.
Bethany huddled in the dark, narrow space, sure the men above could hear the frantic beating of her heart. She'd never known such darkness, such fear. For a moment, she wanted to cry out so that she could escape from this frightening place. But if she did they'd take the dragon. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to calmness.
With shaking hands Bethany clutched the dragon. She took a deep breath. The frantic beating of her heart slowed. She moved the satin wrapping aside so that she could touch him. He was cool against her fingertips, and she held him against her breast.
There were angry shouts above. Noises of furniture being overturned. A cry. Bethany flinched, but she didn't move. She just held the dragon close and waited.
After what seemed an eternity the shouting stopped. The steps receded. There was only silence, and darkness. Bethany waited. She had to be sure her pursuers had gone. Ten minutes went by. She wrapped the dragon in the silk and put him back in the basket. Her legs were cramped, sweat ran down her body. She felt above her head and with the flat of her hand tried to lift the trapdoor. It didn't budge. Frightened, she put both hands against the door and pushed as hard as she could. It lifted. She raised it an inch and peered out, stifling a cry as she surveyed the room. It was a shambles. Tables were overturned, the material the tailor had been working on was strewn across the floor. He lay beside his machine.
With every bit of her strength, grunting with the effort, Bethany pushed the trapdoor all the way open. She climbed out, then reached down for the basket with the dragon. Quickly she ran and knelt beside the old man. He was unconscious, and a trickle of blood ran down the sid
e of his face. She felt for the pulse in his neck. It was weak but steady. She got up to look around for water. Seeing a spigot and a pail, she ran some water, found a cloth, and hurrying to the tailor's side, bathed his face.
"Please," Bethany said. "Oh, please, be all right." She patted his face. "Sir? Sir, can you hear me? Wake up. They've gone now. Oh, please..."
His eyelids fluttered open. He groaned and tried to sit up.
"No," Bethany said. "Rest a moment. Don't try to move yet." She bathed the wound on his head, then quickly ran to get him a drink of water and held his head while he drank. This was her fault. The tailor had tried to protect her. He'd been hurt because he wouldn't tell the men where she was. She folded some material and put it under his head for a pillow. He murmured something she didn't understand and tried to smile. He closed his eyes and in a little while he slept.
Bethany sat beside him, a worried frown on her face. She took his pulse again; it seemed stronger.
For a long time Bethany sat beside the tailor. Every few minutes she checked his pulse. Finally she got up and began to straighten the shop, righting the overturned tables and the chair, picking up the scattered material, folding it neatly. The table with the sewing machine on it was the only one that hadn't been overturned. When the shop had been put to rights, she went back and sat on the floor beside the tailor.
Bethany didn't know how much time had elapsed since she'd fled the hotel. If Tiger had returned he must be frantic with worry. As soon as she made sure the old man was all right she'd go back to the hotel. She... But no, she couldn't go back. The men who were looking for her would be waiting there. She had to go somewhere else. But where? Dear God, where could she go where both she and the dragon would be safe?
If only she understood Chinese. If only she could call Tiger and warn him. If only... At last, exhausted by all that had happened, Bethany closed her eyes and slept.
