Tempted Tigress (9 page)

All the while, the Enforcer laughed and laughed, seemingly oblivious to the danger. Anna glanced hurriedly around, searching for the lost knife. She saw it underneath one of the cushions, and she stepped quickly to it, tucking it tightly to her side until such time as she might need it.

The Enforcer noticed, of course. He pointed. "See, Jing-Li," he continued in Chinese. "She is armed now. We are such blunderers that a white nun can overpower us both!"

The servant narrowed his eyes in her direction. He was no longer dripping wet, but his skin remained dark with fury. Anna tightened her grip on the knife, slowly raising it before her. She doubted it would save her life, but it would allow her to cause some damage before other servants came in to overpower her.

She widened her stance and prepared to fight while the Enforcer sobered. The growing quiet seemed to finally affect Jing-Li. He turned to his master and his color began to recede. His lips trembled as if he hovered halfway between mirth and fury. Then the mandarin tipped the scales, leaning forward in a conspiratorial whisper.

"What would your aunt say if she saw us now?"

The servant shook his head. "She would say nothing. We would simply be whipped and sent to bed."

"Ah, but what would she say to her ladies?"

Jing-Li grinned. "Every detail."

"With exaggeration."

"I would have nearly drowned—"

"I would have fallen atop you, holding you underwater by accident."

"And the nun would be a blind old woman who couldn't hold a knife with her two palsied hands."

The two descended into mutual laughter that had Anna slowly drawing the knife down into the folds of her skirt. Meanwhile, the servant pushed to his feet then leaned forward to help his master stand.

"You only got what you deserved," the Enforcer commented. "I will not allow you to kill her."

The servant grimaced as he hauled his master up. "You cannot keep her alive. She draws too much attention."

"We can hide her in a palanquin. No one need see her face."

The servant threw up his hands in disgust. "Have you lost your reason? We cannot be saddled with a white woman!" He stepped forward, and his boot was loud on the deck. "Lust has thickened your brain. You can have a dozen women such as her! Han women, white women. Ones with fatter breasts or smaller feet. Whatever you want, but not until Shanghai!"

His tirade ended on a loud exhale. The two men stood face to face, the Enforcer slightly taller, his friend and servant shorter but more powerful. Or at least so it seemed. Except, the more the servant blustered, the taller and more composed the mandarin appeared. His face remained placid, his stance almost casual, but there was no mistaking his power when he finally spoke.

"Have you forgotten that you pose as my servant? Compose your tone."

They spoke in court Chinese—similar to the Mandarin she knew, but more stylized. Clearly they did not think she understood, and she did not enlighten them. But she could not stop her internal start of surprise. She knew the Chinese, like the British, often kept servant families. Children would often grow up together, and therefore by nature would have excessively familiar attitudes toward one another, even servant and master. But what the mandarin said meant "pose." The friend posed as his servant, which meant things here were not as they appeared.

Meanwhile, the "servant" grimaced, and though his body and tone took on a more servile expression, his face did not. "It is too dangerous to keep her alive."

"She is my wife, and you will not touch her unless I bid it."

"You have other wives," the servant groused.

Anna had to fight to keep from reacting. Of course she was a concubine—a third wife, fourth, maybe hundredth wife. It didn't really matter. And yet, this blackened her thoughts nonetheless even after the Enforcer dismissed his past spouses with a casual wave of his hand.

"Two dead and the third gone." He frowned. "Where is she now?"

"Companion to my mother in Canton. She still curses your testicles and swears she will cut them off if ever you come for her again."

The mandarin gave a mock shudder. "As if that would ever happen." He glanced back at Anna. "So I have an adequate number of wives, and may now indulge in the women I want." His voice continued in that conversational tone as he addressed her. "Do you comprehend, wife? Your life depends wholly on me."

She did not respond, pretending to not understand his words. She doubted she fooled the mandarin, but his friend dismissed her with a shrug. "Why do you play with death? She is a ghost woman. Her kind will only bring ill fortune."

"That is your aunt speaking, not your brain. How will you fare among the whites of Shanghai if that is your attitude?"

Jing-Li sighed dramatically. "Most ill, I am afraid. I will likely die within a year." Then he frowned at Anna. "Less, if you continue in your ignorant lusts." He leaned forward, his entire body urging the Enforcer to listen. "We cannot take her to Jiangsu. The place is too small to hide her."

The mandarin stared back, his body rigid. But moments later, he slumped. "I know," he finally said.

Everything in Anna urged her to step forward and demand an explanation. How far away was Jiangsu? How long did she have before she died? But what was the point? They wouldn't answer her, and she would give away that she understood their court dialect. She bit her lip and considered fleeing right then and there, but there was nowhere for her to go. Not on a boat filled with the Enforcer's servants. So she decided to bide her time and pray for an opportunity.

"Leave us, Jing-Li," the Enforcer snapped. "I have made a bargain with her. Entertainment for her life."

The friend rolled his eyes. "She will bore you with white God stories, then slit your throat while you sleep."

"Then you should not be so careless with your knife." And he held out his hand to Anna, obviously demanding the blade.

She pretended ignorance, shaking her head in confusion. "I only speak Jin dialect of the north," she said in that language.

Though she knew the man was the Emperor's Enforcer, his attitude these last hours had been of a scholar and an official. She had seen him give in to his friend and servant. She had not been thinking of him as the Emperor's killer, so she was not prepared for his next action. He moved with startling speed. Before she could do more than cringe, he was beside her, one arm wrapped across her chest—near to her throat—and the other gripping her hand just above the knife hilt. His thumb was sharp and painful where it dug into her wrist at the base of her palm.

She had no choice but to release the blade. It clattered to the floor where Jing-Li snatched it up. Then she waited in absolute stillness for him to release her. He did not. Instead, he whispered harshly into her ear.

"Isn't lying against your religion, Sister Marie?" Except for her name, he spoke in court Mandarin. "Lie to me again, and I will kill you for breaking your vow to your white god."

She swallowed, unsure what to do. And as she hesitated, his arm crept higher on her body, brushing past her breast up to tighten ever so slowly around her neck. She made a noise of distress, but it did not stop him. His arm was implacable as he began to cut off her breathing.

"Confess, little nun. Beg forgiveness for your sin."

She need only stay silent. She knew that. The best lies were adhered to against all odds. In time, she could even convince herself that what she spoke was the truth. Stay silent! she ordered herself.

But she couldn't do it. Not with the breath trapped tighter and tighter in her body. Not with Zhi-Gang's free hand now slipping around her arm to press against her belly. She was flush against his body, his erection a hot presence against her hip. She felt him everywhere—against her back, wrapped around her belly and throat, even against her ear and cheek as his hot breath coiled around her face.

"Yes!" she cursed in his Mandarin dialect. Then she twisted abruptly, shoving him away with all her strength. He went nowhere. "Yes, I understand your lying speech. I know you will kill me despite your promise. So do not curse me for lying when you have no honor of your own."

He released her then. Not because she had begun to fight him in earnest, but for some quixotic reason of his own. He even had the gall to smile at her as he clapped his hands.

"Excellent!" he cried, though she had no idea what he thought was so good. "We shall let Jing-Li clean up this mess, and then our evening can begin." His eyes grew darker, his lids slipping to a sensuous pose. "I trust you will not bore me with 'white God tales'?"

She swallowed, unsure how to respond. "No," she finally whispered. "No morality plays. My stories are... of a different kind."

He grinned. "I look forward to them."

She bit her lip, knowing she should remain silent. But she was frightened and off balance. She could not stop herself from trying for some type of security. And if not security, then at least foreknowledge of what he expected.

"They are just tales, you know. Nuns are... Nuns do not..." She swallowed, knowing how ridiculous this was, given what she had been doing in her bath moments ago. But some men might be content with that—with simple viewing. It was a vain hope, but she clung to it nonetheless. "If I am to keep my vow of honesty, then I must keep my vow of chastity as well." She lifted her chin. "Do you accept that? Will you honor that?"

He wouldn't, of course. She knew. Hadn't she just felt his erection hot and hard against her bottom? And yet she still waited in anxious silence as he studied her. Jing-Li watched as well, his brows contracted in thought as he obviously plotted something of his own. She wanted to look at him, to discover some clue as to what the servant/friend intended, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the Enforcer. His presence—even in silence—trapped her somehow. It was that powerful and that terrifying as she waited for his response.

In the end, he simply nodded and bent his head and upper body in a slight bow. "Of course I will honor the vows of any cleric, male or female. To disrespect that would taint my qi."

She snapped back, startled by her own daring: "What happens to your qi when you kill a cleric?"

He grimaced. "Feng-Du punishes such crimes most severely."

She frowned, not understanding.

"Feng-Du is where spirits are judged and punished after death. Demons torture those who commit evil crimes."

"Hell," she supplied. "We call it Hell."

His smile seemed twisted somehow, but it was hard to tell as he gave another slight bow. "Exactly." Then he turned, gesturing negligently to Jing-Li. "Clean up this mess, servant." He grinned, obviously enjoying forcing his friend to wait upon him. "I believe I shall rest."

Jing-Li tensed. His shoulders lifted and his face took on a dark, angry flush. "You push this ruse too far," he growled. "You are no better than me. Less, by birth."

The mandarin arched a finely sculpted brow. "And how much does your birth help you now? You hide from the Empress on the Enforcer's boat." He grinned. "You must act like what you pretend."

"We are friends!" hissed Jing-Li.

The mandarin sobered, obviously answering a question neither had voiced. "We will find you a new place, Jing-Li," he said softly. "Away from the Empress, you will be able to live freely again. Just not right now." Then he stripped off his wet silk pants and tossed them at his friend.

Pretending to a modesty she didn't want, Anna forced herself to turn away from this interesting conversation. No nun would allow herself to see the mandarin's finely sculpted legs, and so she turned her back, but she kept listening closely, hoping for more clues about the man who held her captive. She heard nothing of use. Only his chuckle as he settled upon the cushions.

She heard his soft sigh as he stretched out and probably reclined, his hands behind his head as he quietly laughed at his friend's work. And then she imagined that his gaze drifted to her, wandering over her body clad in this tight Chinese silk. She felt uncomfortable awareness prickle between her shoulder blades, tighten her breasts, and heat her belly. She pulled her exposed leg in close to her body, knowing it made no difference. The fabric was too torn. He could see all of her leg from the knee down.

Such exposure was not so uncommon, really. Though the cool temperature in the north made for heavy fabrics that covered everything, the southern provinces were vastly different. In Shanghai, for example, tight skirts were often slit way up the thigh, especially among a certain sort of woman. The sight of Anna's knee and calf could hardly compete. Still, she felt his gaze burn there with erotic intensity. And yet, she dared not move away for fear that everything she imagined was simply that—her imagination—and moving away would bring on the attention she feared.

This made no sense. She knew that. And so, giving a muttered curse of disgust with herself, she stomped past Jing-Li to the toppled desk. She righted it quickly, then sat on the stool behind it. Once she was settled, she allowed herself to look at the Enforcer, this man who had haunted her dreams and now tormented her reality.

His eyes were closed, his chest shifting in the slow breathing of a man deeply asleep.

* * *

He slept like a man without fear: deeply and with total relaxation. He lay sprawled across the cushions, completely insensate, while Jing-Li finished cleaning and departed. Meanwhile, Anna sat on the stool, her thoughts weaving in and out as she longed for her own rest. After so many days of running, she was in sore need of sleep. In the end, she could not resist. She slipped off the stool to curl up on the hard deck. She did, of course, manage to quietly steal one of his pillows to tuck under her head.