Barbara Faith - Kiss of the dragon (11 page)

"Her mother named her Flowering Peach, for even at birth her skin was that fruit's softly shaded color. Her father, a rich merchant involved in trade with Persia, had little interest in his girl child. But as Flowering Peach grew into womanhood he began to think how he might use her to gain more riches for himself.

"Like all females of her age and time, Flowering Peach spent her days helping her mother with the household chores and tending her garden. One day, in the spring of her sixteenth year, a young poet passed through the village. He saw the girl in her father's courtyard and before she could move away he began to play to her on his lute. In song he told her that her skin was as delicate as rice paper, her hair as fragrant as jasmine.

"The next day the poet appeared again, and again for many days thereafter. He was a handsome young man. His body was as slender and as strong as a sapling, his eyes as dark as the midnight sky. Each day the poet and Flowering Peach fell more and more in love.

"Then one day a rich merchant from Persia came to the village to buy silk from the girl's father. She was sent for. 'Bring tea,' her father ordered, all the while
looking slyly at the expression on the fat merchant's face.

"Flowering Peach brought the tea and after she had served it and left the room the merchant said, 'I would have your daughter.'

"'What will you give me in return?' her father asked.

" 'One thousand gold coins.'

" 'It is done,' was her father's reply.

"The next day he told Flowering Peach that he had sold her to the merchant from Persia. The merchant, he said, had other business in China, and would return for her in two weeks' time. She prostrated herself before her father. Weeping, she told him of her love for the young poet and begged to be allowed to marry him. But her father would not listen to her pleas.

"That night Flowering Peach told her lover that they must part. Together they wept and he said to her, 'Come away with me. We will defy your father; we will marry.'

"Fearfully Flowering Peach looked at him. She was afraid, but her love was greater than her fear, and that night the lovers slipped away together into the darkness.

"Her father found them a week later and brought them back to the village. His daughter had been despoiled; the despoiler must be punished. In a rage the father sought a sorcerer. He paid him one hundred silver coins to cast a spell upon the poet, an irreversible spell that turned the handsome young poet into a hideous dragon with ugly green scales and distended fire-breathing nostrils.

"Flowering Peach looked in horror at the dragon, but instead of backing away, almost blinded by her tears, she tenderly ran her fingers over the ugliness of scales. And with her touch of love the dragon turned into an object of golden beauty.

"But love could do no more than that; the poet had been locked within the golden dragon for all eternity.

"Her father had won. He convinced the Persian merchant to buy Flowering Peach although she had been soiled.

"The night before the wedding Flowering Peach slipped from her father's house. In one hand she held a flacon of a deadly potion, in the other the golden dragon. Down through the willows she went, down to the river. There on the moss-green banks, by the light of the moon, she drank the poison. With her last breath she held the golden dragon to her breast and whispered of her love.

"And as she died one single tear fell from the dragon's eye."

There was silence in the courtyard as Su Ching finished her story. She sat back in her chair, relaxed, eyes closed, as the last rays of the afternoon sun faded from the horizon. When at last she spoke she said, "The golden dragon is a symbol of a love that will never die. Its value cannot be measured by money."

Impatiently Tiger got up from his chair. "It's only a story," he said. "A legend that has nothing to do with reality."

"Doesn't it?" Su Ching turned her gaze to Bethany. "Do you think it is only a story?"

"I... I don't know. It's beautiful and sad. I don't know," she said again.

"Nor do I." Su Ching looked at her son. "Now I will tell you where you can find the golden dragon," she said.

Chapter
11

As
the shadows of evening descended on the courtyard, Madame Su Ching drew her chair closer. "Your father met Ross Adams in the early part of 1939," she said to Tiger. "Chennault had been hired by Chiang Kai-shek to train Chinese pilots in the fight against the Japanese, and other pilots, adventurers from Italy, England, France, and America, came to China to fly with Chennault. They became the Flying Tigers, brave and daring men who, with one hundred and fifty Chinese pilots, flew planes no sensible man would have taken two feet off the ground."

"Did you know your husband then?" Bethany asked.

Su Ching shook her head. "No, I didn't meet Bill Malone until later when Chennault moved his base of operations to Kunming. It was the summer of 1941.1 had just turned seventeen." She smiled at Bethany. "I

will never forget that summer. Kunming is called the City of Perpetual Spring because all through the year there is a profusion of blossoms: cherry, camellia, magnolia, azalea and plum. To me it is the most beautiful city in China."

For a moment Su Ching was silent, remembering. Then she said, "I met Bill and Ross one Sunday afternoon in the park. My father had taken all of us, my sisters and brothers and me, boating on the lake." Her lips curved in a smile. "They were so young, so raucous and full of life. So glad to be alive.

"They waved to my sisters and me and though we smiled behind our fans we dared not wave back. Then, Bethany, your father stood up in the boat and began signaling to us, doing funny things to make us laugh. Suddenly, before we could warn him that this type of Chinese boat had not been built for such antics, the boat overturned."

"Father went overboard?" Tiger asked with a grin.

"And came up with a lily pad covering his face. He looked so funny that my father took mercy on both of them. We helped them rescue their boat and get back to shore, and father invited them for tea.

"My father—your grandfather, Tiger—admired the pilots who flew for Chennault. He thought they were brave and wonderful men, but he did not like the idea of his daughters becoming friendly with foreigners because of the cultural differences, the barriers that are almost impossible to cross." Su Ching looked at Bethany. "But there are times," she said, "when two people look at each other and there is a magic, a destiny that cannot be denied. Then nothing matters except that these two people should be together. That is
the way it was with Bill Malone and me. Not even my father could stop the love we felt for each other."

In the silence of the garden a mourning dove called to its mate. Bethany looked at Su Ching through the gathering darkness. She knows, Bethany thought, she knows what I feel for Tiger.

"Bill and I were married by a Catholic missionary in Guilin," Su Ching went on. "Ross Adams was our witness. No one in my family was there." She closed her eyes and after a moment said. "For our honeymoon trip we hired a small boat and went down the Li River to Yangshuo. I still remember the feathery bamboos lining the banks, the cormorant fishermen, the local people who sold tropical fruits. And the way Bill Malone looked with the sun on his face."

Su Ching lowered her head for a moment. When she spoke again her voice held a different tone. "I didn't learn that Bill and Ross were dealing in the black market until a year after we were married. I was angry when I found out, and I tried to tell Bill how dangerous it was. He laughed and said, 'Dangerous? What in the hell could be more dangerous than what I've been doing for the last couple of years? The planes we're flying are put together with spit and glue. We land on runways that aren't fit for jackrabbits. Hell, girl, all the pilots are doing black market business. It's the only way we can put some money aside for when the war's over.
If
it's ever over. All we're doing is a little trading—cigarettes and liquor, silk, porcelain and jade. Things like that.'"

Su Ching turned to Tiger. "I kept my peace until the day your father bought me this ring." She rubbed the fingers of her other hand across the large jade ring. "I
knew it was expensive, that we couldn't afford it, and when I pressed him he told me about the golden dragon."

Her voice dropped to a whisper so that both Bethany and Tiger had to lean forward to hear. "He and Ross had been away for almost a month, on a mission to The Great Bend of the Yellow River. It was there, in that region where the capitals of eleven Chinese dynasties have flourished, that your fathers were given the golden dragon by a warlord who knew his enemies were closing in around him. He paid Ross and Bill a great sum to take the statue to his son who lived in northern China in a city called Jiayuguan.

"The fighting was fierce in those days, and many Months passed before they were able to make the trip to Jiayuguan. They did, however, on one of their missions, return again to
the Bend of the Yellow River. Th
ey went to see the warlord to tell him they had not
yet
been able to deliver the dragon. But when they arrived they were told by the few of his men who were
still
alive that most of their men had been killed, and
th
at
the lord hims
elf had been tortured and murder
ed."

Bethany's hands ti
ghtened in her lap and she shiver
ed, not sure whether from the evening chill or fear. She looked at Tiger an
d saw that he too was affected b
y
his
mother's story.

Both Ross and your father were sobered by the
new
s, Tiger. But I honestly do not think they connected the murder to the dragon. Not until they flew to Jiayuguan, and found that the son of the war
lord's tee had been the same."

With trembling hands Su Ching smoothed her flawless hair. "They kept the statue in our home, wrapped in silk in a wooden box. For a long time I didn't open the box, but one day, while Bill was away, I took the box from its hiding place and slowly unwrapped it." She looked from Tiger to Bethany. "I have never seen anything as beautiful, as magnificent as the golden dragon. I touched it and it seemed so real that I could almost feel it quiver beneath my fingers."

Su Ching pressed her hands to her face and for a long moment did not speak. Then in a faltering voice she said, "I had heard the legend of the golden dragon when I was a child. I knew of its cultural value and I... I felt, after I had seen its beauty, that it should be in a place where all could see. I asked Bill to turn it over to the Chinese government.

"He refused. He said that it was ours. Then he and Ross took it to a place where they knew it would be safe. 'When the war is over,' he said, 'we will get it.' But when the war was over your father and I had to flee to Hong Kong. And China closed its doors behind us."

"Where is the dragon now, Mother?" Tiger asked.

"It is near Wuhan." And to Bethany she said, "Wuhan is a port stop for the Yangtze River steamers. It is a composite name for three cities, Hankow, Hanyang, and Chungtai." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The dragon is in the monastery in Chungtai." She took a key from her pocket and handed it to Tiger. "Here is the key that with Bethany's key will unlock the place where the golden dragon is hidden."

Then quietly, not waiting for Bethany or Tiger to speak, Su Ching got up and went into the house.

Bethany sat as though frozen, her heart thudding hard against her ribs. In a voice made tense by emotion she turned to Tiger and said, "When do we leave for Chungtai?"

"Not we," Tiger said half an hour later as they were getting ready for bed. "You're not going anywhere."

"But—"

"I will not even discuss it, Bethany. I will go to Chungtai alone. When I have found the dragon I'll return for you. Together we will go back to Hong Kong where we will find a dealer and dispose of the dragon."

"Dispose of it?" Bethany looked at him incredulously, "How can you say that? The golden dragon isn't a... a
thing.
It's a symbol of love. It represents love!"

"Surely you don't believe the story my mother told us. She said herself that it was a legend, Bethany, a fairy tale she heard when she was a child." Tiger smiled at her stormy face and putting his hands on her shoulders he turned her to face him. "It was only a story, Bethany. There never was a girl named Flowering Peach or a handsome young poet who was turned into a dragon by an angry father." He gave her a little shake. "You came to China to find the dragon, Bethany. Well, we have almost found it, don't back out now."

"I won't. It's just..." She buried her face against his chest. "I don't know. I have a funny feeling about it. I wonder now if we should go after him."

"After
him?"

"The dragon."

Tiger smiled at her. "My funny girl," he said softly. "My very dear and very funny girl."

They had not made love since they had been in his mother's house, at first because Bethany had been wounded. Later, although Tiger had slept with her, he'd known she was grieving over the loss of her mother. Now suddenly, all of the passion he'd held in check these last two weeks rushed to the surface. He wanted her so much his teeth ached, but trying to control himself he said, "We'll talk about this tomorrow. Now we will go to bed."

Bethany looked up at him. She saw the flame in his green eyes and felt the tension of his hands on her shoulders. "Yes," she said, "now we will go to bed."

With careful fingers Tiger unbuttoned her white silk blouse. He cupped her face. He kissed her eyes closed, kissed the tip of her nose and the sweet indentation tha
t led to her lips. He took her li
ps softly at first, then with a cry his mouth crushed hers. He was hungry for her, dying for the taste of her, the feel of her. He slid down the straps from the wisp of lace that covered her breasts so he could cup them in his hands.

"Bethany," he whispered against her lips. "Bethany, I hunger for you."

Her knees grew weak. She clung to him as he swept her off the floor and placed her on the bed. Quickly he finished undressing her. Even more quickly he undressed himself, throbbing with desire. When she turned to snap off the light he said, "No, I want to look at you, Bethany. I want to see your face when we make love."

Gently, holding himself back, he kissed her. Tenderly he ran his hands down her body, stopping when he came to the still-red scar on her side, a memento of that awful night in the courtyard.

"I don't want to hurt you," Tiger said as he kissed the scar. "You must tell me if I do."

"You won't hurt me." Bethany put her hands on his shoulders to urge him on.

Tiger shook his head. Though he ached with the need to be inside her, he wanted to go slowly, to make passion linger and wait.

"Tiger..." Bethany's eyes were deep pools of silver gray.

He kissed her to silence, then trailed a line of fire down to her ears, her throat, and finally to her small, peaked breasts. With a sigh he turned Bethany toward him so that he could suckle first one, then the other. With each whispered cry he felt her body stretch with desire as she strained close to him. He left her breasts and with hot moist kisses, moved slowly down her body.

He kissed the inside of her thighs and heard her whisper his name. He stroked her and she quivered with passion.

Bethany couldn't bear it. Her body was on fire with longing. Oh, the sweetness of his mouth, the touch of his hands caressing her thighs. It was too much; it wasn't enough.

Suddenly, hands on his shoulders, Bethany pulled away from Tiger. She heard his startled gasp as she forced him under her, grasped his hips, then settled onto him.

Oh, the feel of him, the glorious feel of him inside her. He reached to caress her breasts and Bethany whispered her pleasure. She tried to go slowly so that this would last, but it was so wonderful. Her body ground against his and when his fingers tightened on the excited buds of her breasts she cried aloud, lost in frenzied pleasure as she strained toward that final moment of climax.

Through eyes almost blinded by passion, Tiger looked up at Bethany. Her eyes were closed, her face was wildly beautiful. Her body glowed with a fine sheen of sweat. He threaded his fingers through the golden mane of her hair and pulled her down to him. And it was too much. She cried his name and collapsed against him. He found her mouth, mingling his own cry of fulfillment with hers.

For a long time Tiger stroked her back. The soft cloud of her hair l
ay like silken threads against h
is shoulders and he turned to breathe in the scent of it. And of her. Bethany, he thought, will I ever get enough of your sweetness and your fire?

Long after she slept he held her and when, in the night, his passion began to grow again he rolled her beneath himself and slowly moved against her.

"I love you," Bethany whispered sleepily against his lips. "I love what you do to me." Her arms crept up around his neck and as she pressed her face close to his he felt her tears on his cheek.

"Darling," Tiger whispered. "What is it? Am I hurting you?"

"No, Tiger, no." Bethany pressed him closer. She wanted to tell him that sometimes she loved him so much, so far beyond words, that it frightened her. If
he went away, if he left her... But because she couldn't tell him with words, she tried to tell him with her body. She lifted herself to him, yielding, giving all that she had to give until, shuddering in ecstasy, Tiger cried her name and surged with her in wonder and in joy.