Tempted Tigress (33 page)

Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight 'twould win me,

That with music loud and long,

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

—Samuel Taylor Coleridge

from "Kubla Khan: Or, a Vision in a Dream. A Fragment"

Chapter 14

"I have some extra. Want to share?"

Halfy's words floated through the air to where Anna was brushing down the horses. Since she was dressed as a peasant—much poorer than the others—Anna was supposed to act the servant boy to the group; that was the cover they often used whenever she travelled with her father's men. When she wasn't playing a nun.

Years ago, it hadn't bothered her. She liked being useful, was accustomed to hard labor from her childhood in the mission, and dressing as a boy kept her away from men who made jokes she didn't like. But it had also isolated her at times—like now—when she was alone rubbing down the horses after a long day's travel. That was Halfy's favorite time to catch her—then and now.

"Did you hear me, little Anna?" Halfy called again, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "I have fun to share."

He meant opium. Opium to share. And then, when she was so drugged she could barely move, he would do the moving for her. She didn't remember clearly, but he had made comments. And she knew he had done it to others. It was the only way Halfy could get women, and he seemed to find a perverse enjoyment out of them being unconscious.

"No, thank you," she answered aloud, disappointed that there wasn't more conviction in her voice. Truthfully, she did want the opium. It was just what happened afterward that she despised.

She swallowed and bent low to rub down the horse's belly. As she moved, she quickly scanned the little campsite. Zhi-Gang was nowhere to be seen. He'd been helping her all evening, despite Halfy's protest that it would look very strange to anyone who happened upon them.

It turned out that Zhi-Gang wasn't nearly as pampered as she'd once thought. He wasn't averse to gathering wood, was a skilled hand at making a fire, and even made a passable soup. True, his work with horses was rather ham-fisted, but he was smart and willing to learn, which is more than she could say for the others in their company.

Now he was gone to clean the pot, and that left her alone with the horses and Halfy, since the three other men had already settled in for their evening tobacco. Halfy was the only one offering opium, and he had sidled up behind her, his voice low as he bent over her.

She crouched even lower, slipping beneath the horse before rising up on the other side. Halfy didn't follow. He wasn't nearly as nimble as she, but his words had no problem reaching her.

"It's my pay, Little Anna. Not skimmed from Samuel, so he won't be angry. And besides, I'm an important man with him now. He doesn't begrudge me a little fun. I could protect you from him, you know. If you're nice to me."

"I
am
being nice to you," she answered, her mouth painfully dry. "I brought you the new governor. Don't think you could have managed that without me. And perhaps you should be nice to me. After all, one word from me and Zhi-Gang will give up on you and leave."

Halfy's response was a loud snort. "The Chinese will sell their own mother for opium." He slid around the horse's tail with a leering grin. "And I am trying to be nice to you. You just aren't being nice back."

Anna straightened to fully face Halfy. In her mind, she wondered how she could have ever thought his crude advances even remotely palatable. She sighed. It hadn't been Halfy that had been the temptation; it was the opium. It's what she'd wanted then, and what she still craved—though not nearly as desperately as before. Not now, not with Zhi-Gang by her side. Then she remembered Zhi-Gang wouldn't always be by her side. He would soon put her on a boat and wave good-bye to her from the dock. And with that thought came panic.

She swallowed, feeling her spirit weaken, the hunger beginning to fog her thoughts. She didn't want to remember what she had been before, what she had done. "I'm married, Halfy," she finally managed. "Go away."

It took all the strength inside her to turn away from him, but she did. She turned her back on Halfy and began scrubbing the horse's other side. But it was all a game. In her heart, she knew that Halfy would not give up so easily. And she knew that she would falter—again—because she always did. Her hands itched to cradle the pipe, her mouth was beginning to salivate in anticipation of the sweet smoke.

She couldn't. She didn't want to. But she always did, and that thought made her eyes tear.

He grabbed her. She'd known he would. Halfy did not like being denied. She felt his hands—small despite his large size, but painfully strong on her arms. Except... She frowned. The hands were large and not hurtful. They cupped and supported rather than forced.

She gasped in surprise, abruptly lifting her head. Zhi-Gang. He was studying her face, his eyes dark in the evening gloom, but she could feel the concern in his touch, in his breath, in every aspect of his body as he stood beside her.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She had no words. Her gratitude cut them off. All she had was a welling of thanks that he could now stand between her and Halfy. And that for one more day, one more hour, he stood between her and the opium pipe.

"Anna?" His voice was sharp with worry.

"I'm fine," she managed. "Thank you. Stay here, please. Don't leave me alone."

"Of course not." He stayed a moment more, studying her face, and as he held her she grew stronger. Her spine straightened, though she barely realized she'd been slumping. Her shoulders stiffened and her chin lifted.

"I am almost done with the horses," she said. "If you could but wait, I will be able to help you with your boots afterward."

His expression eased. "I can handle my own boots, Anna. But I will happily help you finish this."

She was about to nod in thanks, but he gave her no opportunity. He had barely completed his sentence when he abruptly spun and slammed his fist into Halfy's jaw. The large man's head snapped backward and he lost his balance. It was like watching a tree fall as he slowly toppled backward to land in a pile of dung.

Anna was so startled she could only gasp, though a smile quickly formed on her face. Not many people had ever laid Halfy out. Certainly no one had in years.

Unfortunately, Halfy was quick to recover. His fists were bunching and he drew breath to roar for his companions. But Zhi-Gang wasn't finished with him. Before Halfy could stand, Zhi-Gang leaped forward and pressed his boot hard into Halfy's throat.

"Speak to my wife again," Zhi-Gang growled, "and I will use my blades instead of my boot." Then he drew his deer-horn knives and clicked them lightly together for emphasis. The last of the sunlight flashed red along the expertly wrought steel.

Halfy was still furious. Anna could see the rage in the man's eyes, but he was in no position to fight—not with Zhi-Gang's boot on his throat and so many inches of curved steel hovering over him. "You are not nearly so weak as you pretend," Halfy hissed.

Zhi-Gang leaned down and spoke in an even lower tone, one that was all the more frightening because it was so soft-spoken. "If my wife becomes high in any way, if there is opium in her food or a pipe wends its way into her hands, then I will come to you and I will kill you. Do you understand? I have killed before, and I will kill again." He lifted one of his blades, shifting it back and forth in the light. "I can slice the skin off a mango in eight seconds. Imagine what I could do to you." He slowly straightened, but he did not lessen his pressure on Halfy's throat. "And, by the way, when I skin a man, I start with his genitals."

Halfy's eyes widened in horror. The last of his resistance fled. He didn't even try to speak when Zhi-Gang finally lifted his boot away; he just rolled onto his side then scrambled up. Anna watched with a mixture of awe and fear as he fled.

"He's getting suspicious," she said. "He might try to slit your throat while you are sleeping."

Zhi-Gang turned with a mischievous smile. "Then it is a good thing I don't plan to sleep tonight." The twinkle in his eyes left no doubt as to what he hoped to be doing instead, and with whom. Anna merely shook her head, shocked and a little stunned.

"No one has ever done that for me before." The words escaped without thought. In truth, she had no idea what she was doing until she heard her own voice.

Zhi-Gang's eyes sobered. "China is hard on women."

"Life is hard on women," she murmured as she looked away. Years ago she had wished and prayed and hoped for someone such as this to carry her away on a white steed. The nuns had read fairy tales to their charges, stories of princes and castles and great big dragons that had to be killed before the happily ever after. How she had dreamed of that.

Zhi-Gang gently touched her chin, lifting her face to look at him. "Do not wander from my side again. Not until this whole thing is done."

"I didn't wander away," she protested. "I am tending the horses. You went to wash the pot."

He nodded, but his expression did not soften. "Do not leave my side," he repeated firmly. "And I swear I will not leave yours."

The words reverberated in the air, a solemn vow. Nothing said in any church could have held more power. Anna felt a shiver skate down her spine.

"I won't," she answered. And at that moment, she felt as if she had really married him. As if they were bonded together. It was a lie, of course. It was definitely a lie, but the thought held such power that she couldn't help praying that just this once it would be true.

"Good," he answered. "Now let us finish with this poor, smelly horse."

He bent to work with a genial smile and a willing hand. He even whistled as he brushed down the nag, and Anna was left to stare, her heart in her throat.

It's an illusion, she told herself; as great a temptation as the opium she craved, and just as big a lie in the morning. Even if he were offering what she desired, there was no future for a mixed couple in China. He was merely using her to destroy the opium route, just as she was using him to kill her dragon of an adopted father.

In short, it was a temporary lie, a pretend game, no more real than her life as Sister Marie. And yet she was seduced. She was tempted to believe one last time, to hope.

"Do you believe in love?" she asked, wondering if she sounded like a lost adolescent.

The gentle whooshing of his brush stilled and his head popped up from the opposite side of the horse. "Love? What kind of love? Love of family, of country, of politics?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Or the love we shared last night?"

She shrugged, trying to match his casual tone. "Was that love? I thought that was distraction."

He grinned. "It was fun."

"But not love," she pressed.

His face slowly sobered as he met her gaze across the horse's back. "No," he responded slowly. "That was not love."

She nodded and sternly ordered herself not to press the point. But then she heard herself ask again: "But do you believe in love? In romantic love between a man and a woman?"

"All scholars believe in love. Have you not heard our poetry?"

She had, actually. Doomed lovers, every one. Couples were separated by wars, gods, or malicious relatives. "So you don't really believe it is
possible,
do you? That a man and a woman can end happily together."