Heart of the Dragon (16 page)

She cried out in astonishment at the most searing pleasure in the world, more exquisite than anything she’d ever imagined. It stole her thoughts and consumed her with waves of primitive hunger, and at the same moment, blinding joy. She whispered Kash’s name over and over. He swept her into his arms while she was still calling him, then lifted her and stood.

He strode into the other room, darkened except for faint starlight gleaming in the window. “Becca, hold
me,” he urged hoarsely, as he placed her on the bed. “I’m so broken up inside that I don’t know what I’m doing. Nothing’s ever been so perfect in my life before.”

“You’re doing just fine,” she answered in a voice that vibrated with love. “And I’ll hold you so tight, I’ll keep you together.”

He stripped his robe off and lowered himself into her outstretched arms. Slowly easing his body between her thighs, he brushed kisses over her mouth and made promises with careful caresses. His larger, more muscular body hinted at the power to hurt, to take selfishly, to control. But she wasn’t surprised by his gentleness, by the way he reassured her with his gracefulness while exciting her with his size and strength.

Trembling again, she stroked his hair and looked up into his face as he cupped her hips to him and posed on the threshold of joining.

“I never thought I could make
love
to anyone,” he murmured. “But now I know I can.” A single tear slid down his cheek. She moaned softly and arched her head up to kiss it. “Don’t stop,” she ordered gently. “You’re a natural.”

She slid her hands down his back. He listened ecstatically as she told him with eager caresses and soft, half-spoken words that there was nothing but pleasure in his slow, careful merger with her body.

Rebecca was lost in the beauty of that fulfillment. She held him as tightly as she had promised. She kept him together body and soul. In the enchanted moments that followed, he showed her how a man could be more than he’d been born to be, and all that a woman could want.

The morning air was kissing him. Warm and smelling of cinnamon, it moved across his dreamscape, feathering his lips, making him smile. Luscious memories crept back. Glimmers of a long, emotion-filled night of passion. He remembered intervals of blissful half-sleep
mingled with torrid awakenings, caressing hands learning to please him more each time, sweetness surrounding him, pulsing with his own life force, soft cries of feminine delight echoing his own masculine ones.

He also remembered the relaxed conversations, whispered in the darkness. He had given away pieces of himself that he’d been unwilling to share with anyone before. They were so simple and yet so fragile. Daydreams. Hobbies. Small human likes and dislikes. All night the dreamer beside him had listened, then trusted him with her own delicate whimsies. Now she was telling him it hadn’t been a dream after all.

Rebecca.
Becca
. He loved her. The words for it were encased in a cold shell inside him, and he didn’t know if he could ever tell her. He doubted he could ever tell her why it was impossible. If he told her, the innocent bond between them would never be the same.

But for now, as the morning kissed him with such easy devotion, hope was too tempting to resist. He pushed aside the darkness and opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” she whispered, gazing down at him from under sexily tousled brunette hair. Her blue eyes were sleepy and sultry, filled with the night’s memories and the day’s anticipation. Desire rocketed through him.

“
Great
morning,” he corrected. “The best.”

Her pleased smile made happiness rise in his chest and took the raw edge off his surge of arousal. There would be no turbulent rush to join together this time, though it had been like that once or twice during the night, when the mood was wild. This time would be infinitely slow and spiritual, a long sigh of harmony instead of a shout.

“Be still,” she ordered mildly. Resting one hand against his cheek, she lightly brushed her fingertip over his lashes. He watched her study them with fascination, then grin. “I couldn’t do this in the dark. I’ve been wanting to touch them for days.”

“Why?”

“Because I love the way the tips curl. Like a little boy’s.” She scrutinized them solemnly.

Kash wasn’t the kind of man who wanted to hear that his eyelashes were boyish. If anyone else had said so, he’d have scowled in secret embarrassment. “And all this time I thought it was my incredible body you wanted.” But he couldn’t keep from chuckling.

“Well, they’re attached to your body. I want everything.”

Kash felt the darkness again.
That’s what I’m afraid of
. But he ignored it by taking her in his arms and abruptly rolling her over. He lost himself in the love glowing in her eyes. “Now, let me take a good, long look at
your
eyelashes. Then I’ll work my way down.”

“Hmmm, I like that plan.”

He began kissing her, brushing his lips over her eyes, causing her to make a noise halfway between a chuckle and a sexy purr. “How are you this morning?” he asked. Carefully he slid his hand down her belly, cherishing her small quiver and the way she arched to encourage his caress.

“Wonderful,” she whispered.

“But maybe a little tender?”

“Filled with the most incredible tenderness,” she answered huskily.

He nuzzled her neck but gave her a rebuking look. “I meant the other kind. Be honest. I tried very hard to remember that you’d never been with a man before, but I’m afraid I was, hmmm,
overwhelmed
by your enthusiasm.”

Though she grinned at him, he felt her move gingerly when he stroked his hand over the soft mound at the top of her legs. “Okay, pardner, you caught me,” she intoned in a comical cowboy drawl. “I confess.” But her blue eyes didn’t have any humor in them. They watched him worriedly, “Don’t run scared, pardner. I may be a little saddle sore, but I’m still the best bronco buster
this side of Bangkok.
Bangkok
. If’n I was a tenderfoot, I’d make a joke about that there name. But hey, I ain’t a tenderfoot. What’s tender is about a leg-length higher up.”

He bent his head over her and laughed until his sides ached. She put her arms around him tightly. “There are so many ways to make love. I’d really like to touch you and talk to you. Would you mind if that’s all we do this morning?”

Kash drew his head up quickly and looked at her. “Of course not. Do you seriously think I’m upset? I’m having the time of my life.”

“I don’t know what to think, right now. I’m hopeful, but worried. I don’t want to push you too hard or say the wrong thing. I guess I’m afraid you’ll tell me that what happened last night was wrong, and you don’t want to be this involved with me.”

“No. I can’t predict that will happen to you and me after this situation with the Vatan family is resolved, but I’ll tell you this. You’ll leave me. I won’t leave you.”

“Kash!” Obviously bewildered and upset, she took his face between her hands and studied him as if she could draw his secrets out with her willpower.

“Don’t,” he ordered softly, shaking his head.

“Your lack of faith is the only thing that would ever drive me away,” she told him in a low, anguished voice. “Until you can tell me
why
you and I could never have a life together, I won’t feel that you trust me.”

“Becca, I trust you in a way I’ve never trusted anyone else. Believe me.”

“We’re having a little of a communication problem,” she told him, frowning gently. “Everything’s changed between us since yesterday.” She added in a pensive tone, “I suspect you regret that a little.”

Kash felt a flood of sadness and doubt, not about his feelings for her, but about the future. He was a loner even where religion was concerned, but now he thought gratefully about the Buddhist belief in living life one
moment at a time. They sought their paradise, their nirvana, by blocking out the past and future. He pulled Rebecca closer to him and said as lightly as he could, “I regret only one thing.”

“What?”

“That you can’t hear well out of this ear.” He put his head beside hers and whispered,
I love you, I love you forever
.

“Stop. Use the other side, I want to hear,” she demanded, sinking her hands into his hair. She lifted his head and scowled at him mildly. “What did you say?”

“Something shocking. I could hardly put it into words.”

“Then show me.”

Kash took her deeper into his arms. “That should be easy.”

Madame Piathip stayed in the city for several days, and without her suspicious scrutiny, Rebecca could forget about the Vatan family and enjoy being with Kash. Making love with him opened up a universe of sensations and emotions she’d never felt before, and every day was full of new adventures, new intimacies.

But one dawn she woke up alone in his stately bedroom. Her mind still hummed with delicious memories of the night before. He’d carried her to bed after a flirtatious game of chess. She’d never known that the game could be so sexy.

Looking around curiously, Rebecca climbed out of his bed, peered into the bath, called his name plaintively, then noticed a note on a small table by the door.

If you wake up before I return, I’m at the small shrine near the pond. Please come. Kash
.

She dressed in a brightly embroidered green tunic and flowing white silk pants, pulled her hair back with a black ribbon, put sturdy black slippers on her feet, and hurried outside. The light was rosy and golden.
Dew hung on the thick forest beyond the estate’s stone walls and stained the walls with dark patterns. The air smelled of flowers and damp grass. Inhaling deeply, she went down the path to the pond at a quick, swinging walk.

He was seated on the far side of the garden’s pond, in front of a serene female statue made of white stone. The goddess held both a lotus blossom and ajar. The jar was turned downward, as if pouring. Rebecca came to a stop several yards behind Kash, catching her breath at the handsome and tranquil sight he made, his perfect stillness. His arms rested lightly on his knees, and his head was bowed.

His torso was covered in a simple white shirt of cotton that clung to the sculpted contours of his broad shoulders and strong back. Loose black trousers emphasized his long, lean legs. He was barefoot. A wisp of morning breeze lifted strands of his black hair. At the base of the shrine was a stone cup, and in it he’d placed several sticks of incense. The breeze wafted their faint gray smoke upward.

Poignant understanding swelled in her chest. He was a complex combination of cultures and attitudes. Physically large and powerful—very Western in that way—but filled with a vulnerable grace that struck her as humble, reverent, and very Eastern.

Not wanting to break the spell, she kept quiet and started to sit down, but her foot snapped a twig on the grass. Kash raised his head and turned to look at her. His expression was so troubled that she bit back a sound of distress. His serenity had been a facade. As she went to him, he made a painful-looking effort to appear casual. “Good morning,” he said, reaching up a hand.

“Good morning,” she answered in awkward Vietnamese.

“You remembered our little vocabulary lesson last night.”

“You’ve taught me a lot over the past few days.” She took his hand and sat down beside him. “You’re a good teacher.”

“You’re an inspiring student.”

“For a barbarian, as Madame Piathip might say. ” He put his arm around her, but there was something distant and stiff about his posture. Rebecca stroked a fingertip along the shadow under one of his eyes. “You didn’t sleep very well.”

He smiled. “Only because I kept waking up to nuzzle the naked barbarian woman who kept pressing herself against me. But why should last night be any different from the others?”

“Because you usually sleep soundly in between nuzzlings. I know, because sometimes I watch you.”

“Oh? Is that your hobby?”

“Yep. I whisper commands into your ears. You know, like subliminal messages.”

“What commands?”

“It’s a secret. But you’re responding nicely, so it must work. Except I’ll have to fix this little problem of yours. No more slipping out of bed without waking me up.”

“I had a promise to keep.” He nodded toward the incense and the Buddhist statue. “In Vietnam they call her Quan-Am. She represents compassion. Her jar pours the water of compassion on believers. She helps a person find the compassion inside himself. I’m not a Buddhist, but I appreciate the idea.”

Rebecca nodded, watching him closely. He tried to hide his mysterious grief, but she felt it. “Did you come here to find compassion for yourself, or for someone else?”

“Someone else. Someone who died twenty-six years ago today.”

“Please tell me. At least tell me as much as you’re comfortable sharing.”

He searched her eyes with a long, intense gaze. She
could see the conflict inside him, and it tore at her. “Are you talking about your mother?” she asked softly.

He shut his eyes for a moment, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer. But when he opened them, they were calm. “Yes.”

“Please. Tell me anything you can about her. If there are ugly memories you don’t want to talk about, that’s fine. Just tell me the good things.”

He exhaled wearily. “She did her best with what she was given. Her father was an Egyptian diplomat who had business ties in Vietnam back when the French controlled the country. Her mother was a mandarin’s daughter. Because she was mixed-blood and illegitimate, she had very little chance of marrying well or finding a good job.”

“You mean she was a social outcast, like the Amerasian children our soldiers left behind?”

“Yes. Her mother’s family took care of her, but they were killed during the war with the French, back in the fifties. She was just a girl when she was orphaned. After that, she did the best she could.”

Rebecca reached across his lap and took his clenched hand. She wound her fingers through his. “How did she manage?”

Kash’s hard black gaze bored into her. “I remember her singing to me, and teaching me to play games, and protecting me, because I was even more of an outcast than she was.”