Tempted Tigress (46 page)

Authors: Jade Lee

BOOK: Tempted Tigress

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Anna said nothing. The bodies were cleared, the walls scrubbed clean, and her hands were raw from washing. And yet, she felt right somehow. This was like the end of a disease, like moments after a surgery. The tumor had been removed, the patient was now recovering, and all would be well.

She stood in the doorway and watched Zhi-Gang work behind the desk, his glasses slipping to the end of his nose. His expression was tight, his attention fully focused on ledgers before him. And in that moment, her heart broke again as it had been breaking every moment of the last few hours.

It was time to leave, to face whatever fate handed her in England. Zhi-Gang had no need for a white wife, and she had no desire to remain in a country so filled with sorrow. Or so she told herself.

Unwilling to yet dwell on what her future held, she stepped fully into the room, saying the first words that came to mind. "Can you read English?"

"Some," he answered from the desk. Then he lifted his face to focus on her, his expression unreadable. "You are packed to leave."

She glanced down at the bundle in her hands. She held very little: two dresses of serviceable cotton tied together inside a shawl. It was hardly respectable—not by British standards—but would be enough for the boat ride. And once she landed, she would find something appropriately English to wear.

"I have some money in a Shanghai bank. I will withdraw it and be on the boat by evening."

"A good plan—if it is enough money."

She nodded that it was: She had adequate funds to establish herself wherever she choose. "What about you?" she asked. She took another step into the room, needing to close the distance between them one last time. "You'll be dealing with both Chinese and white men. Will you be able to keep up the fiction for long?"

He blinked. "What fiction?"

"That Samuel is alive. That you're in charge." She knew what he intended. He hoped to keep Samuel's network alive long enough for him to learn of others—opium smugglers, slavers, anyone involved in the man's unholy business.

He shook his head slowly. "Not likely."

"But you're going to try, aren't you? You're going to—"

He abruptly stiffened. "I am the Emperor's Enforcer. I will do my duty." His words were a vow. But it was a dark vow, one filled with frustration and pain. And yet the words and their force were integral to who he was, giving him purpose even as it exposed his heart.

At least she had lightened his load. At least she had done something good for this tortured man. If only...

"What will you do in England?" he asked. He stood with a weary sigh.

She blinked, thrown. "Well, I will find my family," she said. "They will welcome me with open arms—throw me a party, no doubt—and I shall eat tea and crumpets until I burst."

He nodded, his expression still blank, and stepped around the desk. "Do you like tea and crumpets?"

"Oh, yes," she lied. She'd never had them.

"And what of our marriage?" he suddenly said, his voice low enough to send a shiver up her spine. "What will you tell them of that?"

She twisted to face him. "I don't know. They will want me to marry, I suppose. That seems to be the way of things in England. I... uh... I shall tell them I am a widow, I suppose. That will explain my reluctance to wed again."

"But I am not dead." He stepped even closer. She did not shy backward, though the impulse surged through her. He was in a strange mood, wore the mask of neither Enforcer nor lover but a dark combination of both.

Yet she was trying to not run anymore—not from anyone, including Zhi-Gang. So she stiffened her legs and faced him. "You married me so you could kill me legally," she reminded him.

He nodded. "Yes, that is what I told you."

She lifted her chin. "It wasn't true?"

He was towering over her now, his eyes dark, his expression enigmatic. "Certainly not. I believe I wished to
bed
you legally." He shrugged. "My motivation was never truly clear—at least, not to myself."

She looked at him, really studied his expression. She saw the darkness inside. He would carry that with him always—because he was the Enforcer, because of what was done to Little Pearl on his behalf. That stain would color him forever. And yet, she saw something else too, something brighter that brought a shimmer of light to his eyes and a quirk to his lips.

"You know what you want now," she said softly. It wasn't a question. She could see the truth of it in his calm.

"I have always known. I wish to end the slave trade—especially whenever it is tied to opium."

True enough. "But there is more." She reached out to him, setting her palm flat against his chest. She needed to feel connected to him, wanted to know how his heart beat in his chest.

Quickly. It beat quickly.

She looked up at him. "What do you want
now
?"

"You have given me the tools to fight. If I stay in Shanghai, I will pretend to be Samuel. To have taken over—"

"Yes, yes," she interrupted. "I know this."

"It will work much better—I can maintain the fiction for longer—if... if you do it with me." He gestured to Samuel's books. "Some of that is in code."

She stared at him, and this time she did take a step back—but only to prevent herself from leaping into his arms. She needed to understand exactly what he wanted. "You want me to translate Samuel's books?"

"And trace the runners. And get me into the brothels, so I can catch the slavers."

Her heartbeat accelerated, the mythology of England fading into the very real, very exciting possibilities of a life in Shanghai. She could indeed be of enormous help to Zhi-Gang.

"I want to," she said, the words expelled without thought. She desperately wanted this with the same kind of hunger she had once reserved for opium.

"Then do so," he pressed.

"I..." Her voice trailed away as she struggled with her thoughts. "Don't you understand? I want to be done with my old life. I don't want to run opium or girls. I don't want to be a stranger in a terrible land." She dared to look up at him and voice her deepest longing. "I want to be a respectable woman. To have a husband and children."

He didn't answer with words. Instead, he reached out and stroked her shoulders. His touch was warm and gentle, but when she would have swayed close to him, he held her apart. And with excruciating slowness, he let one hand slip down to her belly.

"It may already be happening, you know. You could already be with child."

Her hands began to tremble with his words, and she tightened them into fists rather than allow him to see how much she'd thought about that possibility. The idea brought equal parts ecstasy and fear. A half-English, half-Chinese child? Terrible! And yet, the thought of a boy with Zhi-Gang's fierce determination or a girl with his dark, intense eyes—these things thrilled her. She longed for such a possibility, and yet—if it were true, if she were pregnant—what would she do?

"I can't," she gasped. "I couldn't manage that by myself. I wouldn't know what to do. I couldn't..."

"Not in England," he agreed. "You'd be alone there."

She didn't respond. He obviously believed as little of her family in England as she did.

"Stay with me, Anna. We can live with my sister. You can help me end the poisoning of China." His hand stroked her belly with a kind of reverence. "And our children will have a father and protector." He looked into her eyes. "What more could you want?"

"Nothing," she lied.

"Anna..." His hand left her belly to stroke under her chin, forcing her gaze to his.

"Do you love me?" she abruptly blurted. Her eyes filled with tears, shocked and appalled by what she had just said but unable to stop. "I have loved you for so long," she whispered. "That story I told to the widows, it wasn't just a clever lie. It's what I wanted, what I felt." She swallowed. "Zhi-Gang, I love you. And I want you to love me back. But I'm white. I'm a runner. And I'm an addict. You hate everything I am, everything I've done. You—"

He kissed her. He crushed her mouth to his and plunged his tongue into her, branding her again and again. And just like before, she surrendered herself, gave up completely to him. He was her salvation, her love, though she would wither and die if he didn't love her back. If he didn't need her as desperately as she needed him.

She broke the kiss. She pulled away, expecting to see regret in his eyes, a wish for something that could never be. But...

"I love you, Anna," he said. His words were simple and direct, and so unexpected she stared stupidly at him.

"But... But I'm..."

"Yes, you've been many terrible things. But Anna, I already married you, a white runner. Why else would I do that if I did not hunger for you?"

"Hunger," she whispered. "That's not love—"

"But it is," he said. "I love you. I have always loved you. Long before you made up fancy stories about our romance. Long before I searched through Jiangsu for you. I think I loved you the moment you cursed me from the side of the Grand Canal."

"But why?" she whispered. "How could you love me back then?"

He shrugged, completely uninterested in the details. "Who understands the workings of the heart? It goes where it will when it will. My heart chose you."

She thought about that, felt the truth of his words in his solid presence around her. Then she suddenly hit him in the chest. "You threatened to kill me!"

He nodded. "That too happens sometimes when a man falls in love. I was not happy to be so ensnared. Not by a white drug-runner."

"
I
didn't trap
you
," she objected.
"You
held
me
captive!"

He smiled as he dropped his forehead to hers. "Will you stay in China, sweet Anna? Will you help me stop the evil that continues to destroy us? Will you—"

"Raise our children together, enjoy your bed every night, and wake to your solid, strong presence every day?"

"Yes," he said.

"Yes," she answered.

The rest came easily. Before she could draw another breath, he lifted her in his arms. Her satchel dropped to the floor as he carried her to the bedroom. Then they shared kisses and caresses, the sweet ecstasy of joining that was all the more potent because it was the two of them mated in love.

Ecstasy. With him.

Much later, when she lay languidly against him and his contentment filled the room, he dropped a kiss on her forehead. "We could study my sister's religion as well. We could learn what she teaches, maybe reach Heaven itself."

She nodded, though the motion took most of her strength. Truly, Zhi-Gang was a thoroughly wonderful, completely exhausting lover. "Heaven would be nice," she murmured. Then she tilted to look into his eyes. "Tell me again how it is different from what we have right here, right now?"

He thought for a moment, or perhaps he simply looked down at her, his gaze comforting even as his arms tightened about her. "You're right," he finally said. "We have already found heaven."

She grinned. "Then I'm staying right here. Forever."

The End