Captive Bride (12 page)

Alan was sweating by the time he hopped onto the empty wagon to take it to the livery around the corner.

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When he returned to the store, Jeremy had cleared away most of the boxes, replenishing the shelves and storing the rest.

“Go ahead and leave, Taylor. I’ll finish this up tomorrow.”

“I can come in, if you want.”

“No. Enjoy your Sunday. Go to church for me.” Jeremy smiled and went to get his coat from the hook behind the counter. He stopped at the front door.

“Mr. Sommers? I was wondering if you’d responded to the Dodges about that offer of dinner.” His tone was hopeful.

The truth was Alan had completely forgotten. “I’ll send a note tomorrow and ask Mrs. Dodge if you may attend too. But if you’re serious about winning over the girl’s mother, you might think about going to their church. You’d be able to see Cynthia every Sunday.” Jeremy left with a thoughtful look in his eyes. No doubt the young man would soon be joining the Methodist congregation.

Alan abandoned the unpacking, excited to present his gifts to Huiann and see if they’d awaken those dimples in her cheeks.

The kitchen was restored to order and a fragrant meal steamed on the stove. Huiann looked up from her ever-present sewing with a small smile for him. She rose to get his dinner, but he waved her back into her seat and offered her the paper-wrapped parcel he’d hidden behind his back.

She looked startled as she accepted the bulky, loaf-sized object and turned it over in her hands. She untied the twine and unrolled a length of red satin, enough to make a sash or handbag or trim a hat. Wrapped inside 106

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the material were several small items—a carved jade Buddha the size of Alan’s fist, several pairs of ivory chopsticks, a Chinese newspaper and a book on some unknown subject. He’d also chosen a figurine of a woman carved in rose quartz and combs like the ones she’d worn when she arrived, but this pair had pink flowers attached to them. A brush and comb set with mother-of-pearl backs concluded the items in the first parcel.

He felt smugly satisfied at the surprise and pleasure on her face as she touched each object. And when she looked up from examining her new treasures to gaze at him with shining eyes, his chest ached. Alan held up his finger and went to the store, returning with the rest of his gifts.

As Huiann unwrapped dried herbs, noodles and jars of unidentifiable substances, she exclaimed at each item. By the time she reached the set of ivory tiles and the glossy, red-glazed plate and bowl, tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I figured you could teach me to play that game.” He indicated the box of tiles. “Give us something to do in the evenings.”
Something other than me lying in bed
thinking about you and getting hard.

She caressed every item then rose and bowed deeply, offering the English words he’d taught her.

“Tank you.” Her cheeks were damp and her lips trembled.

Alan eyes prickled at the depth of her gratitude for such simple gifts. It made him wish he’d given her much more. He crossed his arms over his wildly thumping heart and resumed a casual pose as she Bonnie Dee

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picked up the Buddha and rubbed her thumb over his bald head and fat stomach for luck.

Huiann told him something about the statue in her native tongue. She set down the Buddha so she could gesture with both hands as she told the tale. Her smile flashed and she burst into laughter at the end of the story. Alan laughed too.

Huiann gathered up her presents to make room on the table for dinner. Another delicious supper made Alan more grateful than ever for his new housekeeper.

She could do things with tinned goods, a few vegetables and spices that made simple meals taste like fine cuisine.

After washing up, Huiann laid out the tiles on the table and told him the game’s name was
mah-jongg.

She tried to show him how to take his turn, but Alan had no idea what he was doing. Huiann ended up playing a two-sided game, his tiles and her own as she kept tally of the points on a piece of paper. Her animation as she explained the scoring was like lightning crackling through the room.

When Alan finally thought he had the gist and insisted on taking his own turn, she giggled at his move. Alan took back the pieces and growled, “Show me what I should do, then.”

Still smiling, she selected one of his pairs and placed them. Alan caught a whiff of her scent as she leaned over the table. She smelled like soap and spices from the food she’d cooked but also an indefinable aroma from the natural oils of her hair and skin. He inhaled deeply to take her in. This vibrant woman’s companionship already seemed like an essential part of 108

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his life. He couldn’t imagine the silence in his house without her.

It was late when at last they ended the game and put away the tiles. Alan let Huiann precede him up the stairs, his intentions gentlemanly but his libido aroused as his gaze was trained on her backside all the way up.

He appreciated the shape of her bottom, glossy thickness of the braid falling straight down her back and elegant curve of her neck. He loved the rounded shape of her shoulders and wished he could see them naked.

His cock swelled and he forced his gaze to the stairs in front of him. That brought the heels of her white socks in flat black slippers into view and made him want to cradle her feet in his hands. He should get her some heavy brogans to wear outside. Maybe indoors too, if it would keep him from thinking about her bare feet.

Alan bid her good-night in front of her door and for a long moment their gazes met before she went inside and closed the door. Blood rushed through him and his lips tingled as if he’d actually given her the kiss he wanted to.

As he lay in bed, Alan pictured Huiann’s blouse soaking wet and molded to her chest when he’d walked in on her failed laundry experiment. Her sleeves had been rolled to the elbow, the white cotton enhancing the olive tone of her forearms. The two black slashes of her brows knitted together above worried eyes and her hair straggled from its neatly braided queue. He’d never seen a more adorable sight, or any woman appear more desirable.

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The ache of having her so close yet unattainable was beginning to wear on him. Huiann sharing his living quarters was an accident waiting to happen, not only potentially damaging for his political aspirations but also for his soul. He’d made a vow not to take advantage of her, but tonight a kiss had hovered in the air between them. How long could he keep his feelings at bay and his lust under control?

Who is fit to govern others? He who governs
himself.
Alan’s father had been fond of quoting those words from the Hare brothers. He should cling to that adage now.

But then Alan remembered the tongue-in-cheek response that actually completed the passage, the part his father hadn’t quoted.
You might as well have said:
nobody.

Chapter Nine

Huiann touched the pink silk cherry blossoms fastened to her new combs before tucking them into her hair on either side. They were too dressy for everyday use, but she wanted Alan to know she liked them and, if she was honest, to admire how she looked wearing them.

She wondered if he knew the blossoms might be construed as a symbol of love. Was he trying to declare some feeling for her or did he not know what the token might suggest? He was, after all, a Westerner, who did all sorts of unexpected things without any idea of the proper etiquette among her people.

Some of his gifts had been proof of his ignorance, a few were completely inappropriate. The rose quartz figurine, for example, was Kwan Yin, the fertility goddess, hardly a suitable gift for an unmarried female.

The book he’d chosen was a dull text about agriculture.

At least the local newspaper had been interesting and she’d learned much about the Chinese section of the city.

And she’d very much enjoyed trying to teach Alan the rules of mah-jongg last night. Perhaps they would have to use simpler rules, simply removing pairs as children did without worrying about the complicated point system.

Huiann knelt before the small Buddha on her bedside table and prayed for several moments before she went downstairs. She thanked the god for all his Bonnie Dee

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good gifts to her and asked for protection and good fortune for her family and for Alan.

When Huiann descended the stairs to the kitchen, the expression on his face upon seeing her was everything she’d hoped for. She imagined how the pink blossoms looked against her dark hair then chided herself for her vanity. How awful of her to purposely try to appear attractive to her employer—a foreigner, a stranger. She should minimize her looks, not flaunt them. Nothing good could come of enticing this kind man, who had refrained from making any demands on her despite the sparks that leaped between them whenever they shared a look. For a moment in the hallway last night, she’d been certain he would kiss her. And she’d wanted him to. Her mother would be horrified.

Now, as she walked across the kitchen toward the stove, Alan said something she supposed was a compliment. She flushed and concentrated on making oatmeal for breakfast, but was powerfully aware of him moving around the kitchen performing his own morning routine. She’d not caught him bare-chested since that first morning, but he did wash his face and hands in the kitchen sink and comb his dampened hair.

A knock on the outside door made Huiann nearly jump from her skin. Alan signaled her to hide in the store. She stood behind the door but watched through the crack as he admitted a Chinese youth bearing a large wrapped bundle on his head. Yesterday’s laundry.

Alan paid the delivery boy and, from his deep bow, must have included a very good tip which his employer need never know about.

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When the door closed behind the boy, Huiann returned to the room. A faint whiff of starch and fresh air lingered in the kitchen as well as a damp chill from the fog. Back home there’d been plenty of mornings when mist rolled in from the Yangtze, but this city was the haziest, dampest place she’d ever seen.

After breakfast, Alan left for work and Huiann put away clean clothes and made the beds fresh. She wished she might’ve gotten her skirt and blouse cleaned, but soon she’d finish sewing another dress and could alternate her clothing. As for the white dress which was to have been her bridal gown for the sinister Yankee, she’d happily burn the garment and all the bad luck it contained. But perhaps not such bad luck after all, because she’d been wearing the dress when fortune steered her into Alan’s store.

The horrible fear and dread of her days at Xie’s house were fading as if they’d been a nightmare. Her new life here with Alan eclipsed those dark days. Her only regret was that she’d been powerless to help the other women he kept in his brothel or installed in pens to be used by any man with a few coins to rub together.

But there was nothing she could do except pray for them. It was a miracle she herself had made it to freedom.

When all the rooms were put in order and after she’d finished sewing the hem on her dress, Huiann went to the pump to fetch water. In all her trips back and forth yesterday she hadn’t run into any of the neighbors, but today a young woman came outside as she was filling the second pail.

Huiann recognized the pale, skinny woman from the day when Alan had diverted her angry husband’s Bonnie Dee

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attention from her. Her brown hair straggled greasily on either side of her acne-spotted face. She stared at Huiann and offered a smile that showed crooked front teeth.

“Howdy. Who’re you?”

Huiann pumped faster, wanting to fill the bucket and get back inside.

“No English?” The girl pointed at herself. “I’m Dora.”

Huiann nodded politely and stooped to pick up her bucket.

The girl put a hand on her arm. “Stay.” She spoke loudly as if Huiann were deaf. The word was unknown, but her intent was clear. She wanted Huiann to stop and visit with her.

The girl had a bruise on one cheekbone stretching all the way up to her temple. Her eyes looked sad, maybe lonely and afraid. Huiann understood those emotions too well. This girl needed a friend.

“Shi,”
she agreed, and set the pails back on the muddy ground. She wrapped her arms around herself.

Although the fog had burned away, it was cold outside.

Tapping her chest, she introduced herself by her sister and grandmother’s name, Mei. Not that a false name would help if Xie’s spies were still searching for a Chinese woman in this neighborhood. She stuck out like a wrong thread woven into a piece of cloth.

Dora grinned and began talking fast. Huiann’s offer of her name had opened dam gates and let a flood pour through. Dora babbled continuously while pumping water into her empty buckets, occasionally pointing to the second story of the building she’d come from.

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One of the windows was thrown open and the man with the black bushy beard stuck his head out. “Hey, Dora!”

He hurled a string of words like knives and the skinny woman flinched as they struck her. She snatched up her buckets, water sloshing over the rims as she hurried toward the building.

When she reached the door, Dora looked over her shoulder at Huiann with a lopsided smile. Her beseeching eyes reminded Huiann of a stray dog that used to wander her neighborhood, ribs visible in its sides, tongue lolling as it begged for food. Her mother had forbidden her and her sisters to feed it scraps lest the animal attach itself to their household. But Huiann had snuck the remains from their plates to it each night after dinner until her mother caught her and she was punished. The dog eventually moved on to another neighborhood, but Huiann had never forgotten its hopeful face or the irresistible urge to help it which she couldn’t deny.

She might not be able to aid Dora in any way, but she could at least befriend her. She waved goodbye before picking up her own buckets and trudging back to Alan’s house, grateful for the warmth of the nest where she’d landed. Although she’d only known Alan for a few days, she couldn’t imagine him yelling or raising a hand to her.