Dragon Fire

by Linda Ladd

  16

  Her mother was trying very hard, Windsor decided as she watched Amelia, who sat beside her in the dining room. Sun-On-Wings also supped with them. At the moment, he was admiring one of the four ornate silver candelabra that graced the lace-covered table. Twelve white tapers burned in the elaborate holder, with a dozen identical flames reflected in its large mirrored base.

  The entire room seemed to gleam and glitter in the flickering light—the heavy silver cutlery, the gold-rimmed, navy blue dishes etched with golden pagodas, and most of all, the long diamond pendants swinging and sparkling at her mother's ears. Windsor was caught by a brief curiosity as to why her American mother thought so many fine, fancy trappings were necessary to merely partake of nourishment.

  No doubt Sun-On-Wings thought he was in a wonderland. He had seen something of the white man's world at the Pleasure Palace and aboard the train, but certainly nothing like her mother's extravagant estate. Windsor's lips curved slightly, remembering how she and Hung-pin had stared when they'd first been ushered into the Cox mansion.

  Poor Hung-pin, she thought sadly. He had left the pathways of the earth at so young an age. It had been he who had encouraged Windsor to befriend her mother. Hung-pin would be pleased to know the two of them had become closer. But he would not be free to ride the dragon until Emerson Clan had been punished.

  "Mr. Wings, you really must try cook's pudding. It's flavored with butterscotch, you know, and it's her very best dessert."

  Windsor had to smile at her mother's attempt to civilize the Osage name. Sun-On-Wings sat cross-legged atop one of the tall-backed, red velvet chairs, and she realized that, like herself, he must find the soft-padded furniture useless. But he had been trying to learn the customs of the whites.

  "The pudding tastes good, Sun-On-Wings," she urged him. "I know it doesn't look very good, but if you'll try it, you'll find that it tastes sweet."

  Sun-On-Wings peered suspiciously at the orange paste swirled decoratively in the silver bowl before him. He reached out and dipped up a portion with his fingers. Windsor heard her mother gasp, but when Sun-On-Wings turned quickly to gaze at his hostess, Amelia managed a faint smile.

  "Ning-Ying could dip some for you, if you wish," she suggested hopefully.

  "What dip?" Sun-On-Wings asked, licking pudding off his fingers. Looking pleasantly surprised, he finished the first dab and helped himself to more. Smiling, he held out some for Jun-li, who clung to the back of the chair next to him. The capuchin fed with great enthusiasm, then leapt atop the table, grasped Sun-On-Wings wine goblet, and in the blink of an eye, drained the contents.

  "Jun-li like berry juice," Sun-On-Wings noted to Amelia. "Him like pudding, too, good."

  "Yes, well, I am so pleased," Amelia answered with distracted graciousness. "Is there anything particular that you'd like cook to prepare for tomorrow's dinner?"

  "Buffalo meat good."

  Her mother looked so disconcerted by the Indian's suggestion that Windsor laughed. Amelia and Sun-On-Wings both looked at her in surprise.

  "I am sorry. It is just so strange that the three of us who are so very different have come together in your house. My mother, you are kind to let us share your table. You must forgive us if we offend your customs. Sun-On-Wings is as new to the world of the white man as I am."

  "Don't apologize, my dear. Having you and your friends here is wonderful for me. This house has been too big and empty for one woman alone."

  Windsor was ready to answer when she caught a glimpse of Stone Kincaid standing in the doorway. She came to her feet, very glad to see him. Then she saw that he was not alone. He had a woman carrying a baby with him.

  "Why, Mr. Kincaid, please do come in and join us," her mother said.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Cox," he answered, drawing the woman forward. "This is Nina Nunez."

  Windsor stared in dismay at the pretty young girl beside him. Nina said nothing, clutching her infant tightly as if afraid someone would snatch the child from her. Windsor frowned. Stone Kincaid had gone to find Ruby Red, so why would he bring this woman named Nina home with him? Unless she was Stone Kincaid's woman? If that were true, was her child Stone Kincaid's, too? Her unanswered questions set off a terrible churning in the pit of her stomach, and she fought the nausea rising as bitter as bile in the back of her throat. He was holding the woman's arm gently, treating her with much honor and respect.

  "I was hoping you might let Nina stay here for a while, Mrs. Cox. She and her baby have nowhere else to go."

  Windsor could tell her mother was shocked by the request, but she watched Amelia's good manners come to her rescue.

  "Of course, Mr. Kincaid," she answered, glancing briefly at Windsor. "As you know, we have many guest rooms. Would you and Miss Nunez care to join us for dinner?"

  "No, she's very tired. I'll show her up and help get her settled, if you don't object. There's no need to bother the servants when they're busy serving dinner."

  "Well, if you're sure. But if you should need anything, please feel free to summon Ning-Ying or one of the maids."

  "Thank you, ma'am." For the first time, Stone turned to Windsor. "I'll talk to you later about this."

  Windsor watched him lead Nina out into the hall. He didn't have to explain. She had been taught the ways of men. He had found a woman to be with him the way Windsor could not be. Her heart was ravaged by sharp, cutting slashes, and she recognized her pain for what it was. She was jealous, she thought in bewildered humiliation. Jealous because Stone Kincaid had taken a concubine.

  Even an hour later, when Stone had managed to settle Nina and her son, Carlos, in the bedchamber next to his own, he could barely contain his outrage after having witnessed the abuse the poor girl had received at Clan's hands. Inside his head, over and over again, Stone saw the young girl's disfigured back. A chill ran down his spine. Fourteen years old, taken from her family to be used and abused by nothing less than a monster. Clan was enjoying his whip. First Hung-pin, then Nina, and God only knew how many others had felt its bite.

  His face hard and grim, Stone walked down the hall to Windsor's bedchamber. My God, what if Clan got his hands on her? What if the bastard scarred up her soft white flesh the way he had Nina's? The idea terrified Stone, more than anything he could ever remember. Despite all the times Windsor had proved she could take care of herself, he knew that Clan was different from most men, clever as hell and more dangerous than the devil. He had no feelings, no compassion, no scruples. And he would show no mercy just because his victim was a woman. He would wield his bullwhip upon Windsor's smooth flesh as lethally as he would upon a mongrel hound.

  Just the thought of Windsor in Emerson Clan's hands made Stone sick to his stomach. If he had any brains, he would find out where Clan was and go after him right now, without a word to Windsor and Sun-On-Wings. If he thought doing that would keep her safe and sound in her mother's house, he wouldn't hesitate. But it wouldn't. Using her calm and methodical methods, she would find out exactly where Stone had gone, and she would follow him there, just as she had done when he'd left the Osage village.

  Stone's lips tightened. She would no doubt drag Sun-On-Wings along with her, too, her damned monkey hanging off his shoulder. Stone wished he could lock them both up somewhere so that he wouldn't have to worry about them. As much as he hated to admit it, he had grown fond of them. He shook his head. Who was he trying to fool? He was falling in love with Windsor, dammit, as much as he didn't want to. Even Suzy had seen it coming. And Sun-On-Wings was beginning to grow on him, too. Lately the Indian boy seemed almost like a little brother.

  Furious at himself for making everything so damned complicated, he stopped outside Windsor's bedchamber, debating whether or not he should knock. Hell, he'd never even considered taking a wife before; he hadn't had time for any kind of serious relationship, not as determined as he was to catch up to Clan.

  Now he had found a woman who made him burn like a tropical fever, and he couldn't have her. Windsor had pledged her
self to a spiritual life, and no matter how much he wanted her in his bed, it just wasn't going to happen. And he wouldn't stoop low enough to try to seduce her. Even if he succeeded, Windsor would end up hating him for compromising her principles.

  A faint light glowed from the crack beneath the door. She was still awake. He ought to walk away, go back to his room, and forget about talking to her, that's what he ought to do. Instead, mocking his own weakness, he tapped a knuckle against the wood panel and was surprised to find the door ajar.

  "Windsor?"

  Only one tall candle burned in a copper sconce set at the end of the bed, cloaking most of the silken draperies and luxurious decor in darkness.

  "Windsor, may I come in?"

  Still she did not answer, so he quietly closed the door. When he neared the bed, he realized that she was sitting cross-legged atop the lush satin bed-cover, just barely discernible in the shadowy bed. She no longer wore her black silk tunic and trousers; her body was draped in a beautiful robe of flowing scarlet silk, the sleeves and hem emblazoned with splendid fire-breathing dragons embroidered in shiny golden thread.

  Even more unusual, she had unbound her long pigtail, allowing her silken hair to tumble in a soft, shimmering cascade over her shoulders and back. The flickering light rippled bright glints through the golden tresses, making Stone want to bury himself in their depths. He fought his overpowering reaction to her beauty, trembling all over with the desire to slide his fingers through her hair, his whole body awash with tenderness and need. With more willpower than he'd ever imagined he had, he resisted the urge to push her backward, to possess her for as long and as often as he wanted. Instead, he reached out and pushed away the flowing silk bed hangings that kept her face hidden from view.

  His body stiffened, shocked to see the tears wetting her cheeks. He had never seen her cry; always before, she had been calm and composed, even in the most dangerous, hair-raising situations. Concerned, he sat down on the edge of the bed, facing her.

  "What's wrong, Windsor?"

  "Much is wrong." Her whisper was barely audible.

  "What is it? Are you ill?"

  "I am in pain."

  "What kind of pain?" he asked quickly, alarmed. "Do you want me to call a doctor?"

  She put her fingers against her cheeks and wiped away her tears. "It is my heart that hurts me, Stone Kincaid. I do not understand my own feelings. My meditation no longer brings me peace. Please, you must help me."

  "Of course I will. I'll do anything you want."

  Windsor shivered, closing her eyes. She sat very still.

  "I think about you every minute of the day," she admitted in a husky murmur, hanging her head until a silky gold curtain veiled her face from Stone's gaze. "I dwell upon how I would feel if you would hold my body against your own, and how it would feel if we coupled together." Swallowing convulsively, she bit her lip. "My mother told me that such thoughts are not shameful, but I feel perhaps they are."

  Her head dipped even lower, as if the weight of the world lay upon it, but Stone's heart soared with hope.

  "What you feel is not shameful," he told her, rigidly trying to hold his passion in check. He had to touch her, he had to. Gently, he brushed back a lock of her hair as a tear rolled down her cheek. "It is love."

  "Do I love you? Is that what is wrong with me?"

  Stone almost smiled, but he didn't. The moment he had been dreaming about for days and days was finally at hand. He wanted her so desperately. "When you love someone, their touch gives you pleasure." His hand shaking with restraint, he stroked his fingertip lightly along the flawless contour of her soft cheek. "Do you like it when I do this?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.

  She sighed, her tongue flicking out to moisten her mouth. "Yes. I've wanted you to touch me many times, but I fight against myself because I have sworn to remain chaste."

  Bitter disappointment swept Stone, and he forced himself to let his hand fall away. "I won't touch you if it makes you uncomfortable."

  Windsor's gaze remained on her lap. "I saw you tonight with the woman named Nina. I saw you touch her with gentleness and look at her with tenderness in your eyes, and I knew you had taken her for your woman. That was when my heart felt as if it were breaking apart."

  "Nina?" Stone said in surprise. "But I only met her today." He gave a soft laugh. "God, Windsor, you ought to know I haven't wanted any other woman since I first laid eyes on you."

  Windsor's expression remained somber. "But you wanted Sweet Sue. You held her and kissed her many times. I saw you."

  "I kissed her because I couldn't kiss you. But I still wanted you. That's why I got drunk that night. I knew your vows were sacred to you."

  Windsor lifted her sapphire gaze; their eyes locked. "I made no sacred vow. The Old One said that lying with a man would distract me and make deep meditation difficult to attain, so I decided on my own that I should retain my chastity."

  A profound stillness descended over Stone. "Are you telling me that all these weeks I've been driving myself crazy trying to keep my hands off you, you were just trying to concentrate better?"

  Her face set in misery, Windsor nodded. "But now I know that I must find out for myself what it is that happens between a man and a woman, what makes me want you to hold me and—"

  Stone let her go no further. He grabbed her shoulders, his eyes burning. "Dammit, Windsor, all this time I thought you were bound by religious vows—"

  He didn't finish. He was far too desperate to taste her lips, to make her his own, now that she was willing. Their mouths forged together, hot, hard, their breathing heavy and labored. Stone was seized by a thundering, mind-numbing brand of desire, a passion he'd never known before, one harnessed and kept at bay for months of waiting, hoping, and denying himself the woman he wanted most in the world.

  Nearly out of control, he was like a man possessed, pushed into the depths of a frantically spinning world of pleasure and release. When Windsor moaned and put her arms around his neck the way he had dreamed of her doing for so long, he slid his hands beneath the thick, luxuriant fall of her hair, grasping silken handfuls and pulling her head back so that she had to look at him.

  "This is what love is, Windsor," he muttered gruffly, his lips against the graceful arch of her throat where her pulse hammered beneath his mouth. "This is how it feels."

  "And I must love you, too, because it feels so wonderful," she whispered, her voice shaky and indistinct.

  Stone drew back and smiled, pleased by her quivering response.

  "You are so beautiful," he said, his gaze lowering to the front of her robe as he threaded loose the silk sash hiding the rest of her from his hungry eyes. He inched the shimmering fabric over her slender shoulders, and Windsor sat still as it slid off her arms onto the bed, revealing to him the satiny perfection of her body.

  "And you are like the great god-warriors of China," she murmured, breathless and trembling as she worked to unfasten the buttons on his shirt. Stone groaned when she smoothed her open palms over the hard, molded contours of his muscles. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her tightly to him until her soft breasts were flattened against his naked chest.

  "I've wanted you for so damn long." His low words were muffled against her hair. "I've lain awake nights dreaming of holding you like this."

  "Kiss my mouth again, Stone Kincaid. I like it when you kiss me."

  He laughed softly, exultantly, but his triumph did not last long, so eager was he to show her how good it could be, how much they had denied themselves. He captured her mouth and pressed her backward against the pillows, bracing his elbows on either side of her head, controlling himself by force of will, endeavoring to kiss her slowly, to let her enjoy the soft melding of their lips.

  Again and again their lips twisted together, then drew apart, his hands snarled in her hair, until all thoughts were stolen from him and he became like a man dying of thirst, her body the water to quench the fire flaming inside him. His mouth possessed her, br
inging her alive, moving with greedy abandon from her cheeks to her throat, from the hardened tip of one breast to the other, until she writhed and moaned beneath him. Stone felt himself swimming in an ocean of sensual bliss, the need to possess her like a roaring blaze that scorched his brain and made him unable to think or speak.

  Caught in her own roiling sea of newly awakened desires, Windsor gasped and protested as Stone suddenly wrenched himself from her, lurching from the bed and throwing off the rest of his clothes, his eyes burning like blue flames. He is magnificent, she thought, her breasts rising and falling with quivering anticipation as he came back to her like a naked god, falling upon her, entwining his fingers with hers and pinning her arms against the pillows. She reeled with pure pleasure as their bodies molded one to the other, marveling at the feel of him, hard and strong and forceful, his sun-browned skin warm and smooth as his chest slid over her naked flesh.

  Windsor closed her eyes, a warm tranquility descending and dissolving any doubts lingering inside her. She belonged in his arms as she had never belonged to anyone else in her life. She arched up against him, wanting more, wanting to join with him, wanting to become a very part of his own existence. He made a muffled sound as he poised to enter her, and when they did unite, man to woman, dark to light, yang to yin, she gave herself to the pain of her surrendered innocence with eager acceptance, pleased by his groans of joy, pleased that he wanted her as desperately as she wanted him, pleased that there was a way to express her love for him.

  Finally, the pleasure he brought to her overrode all else, and she forgot to think, could only feel, quivering with desire and exertion with each slow thrust, until her body exploded with a magnificent fulfillment, bursts of pleasure rocketing through her until she cried out with the sweet wonder of it. Stone groaned from his own passionate release, then held her even tighter, his face buried in her throat, her arms wrapped fiercely around his neck.

  Not long after their passion had cooled, Stone awoke to the sound of humming. Smiling, he reached for the warm softness that was Windsor, but she no longer lay snuggled against him. Disappointed, he sat up and looked around. She was seated at the foot of the bed, her limbs folded into the lotus position, her sapphire eyes hidden by long golden lashes, her lovely face serene as she chanted the singsong verse of her sutra.