Barbara Faith - Kiss of the dragon (12 page)

Bethany held him against her breast while he slept. Tenderly she kissed his forehead and felt her body swell with love. She thought again of how Tiger had looked that night in the courtyard when her assailant leveled his gun at him. The moment was frozen in her mind. She heard again the click of the safety latch, saw Tiger, vulnerable and exposed. If she hadn't thrown herself at her captor, if she hadn't deflected the bullet...

Bethany closed her eyes and held him tight.

The next morning Tiger prepared to leave Tsing-yun. Bethany watched him pack, exhausted from the argument that had been going on since they had awakened. No matter how she had pleaded to go with him, Tiger's answer had been the same—an adamant
no.

"I'll do whatever you say," Bethany said, determined to try one more time. "I'll stay behind in a hotel when we reach Chungtai. I—"

Tiger turned on her, his hand raised to halt anything else she wanted to say. "I will not discuss this again. You are to stay here with Mother until I return. Do not leave the house. Do not go out into the courtyard unless the guard accompanies you."

"Then I'm a prisoner?" Bethany was as angry as he was now.

"Yes, until I return." He came to her, and tilting her chin said, "I must know that you are safe, Bethany. That night, when you were shot, it was as though the bullet pierced my flesh too. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you. I must know that you'll be here, waiting, when I return."

Her lips softened under his. When his arms went around her back to draw her closer, she allowed herself to sway toward him. He kissed her, hard, then let her go and began putting things into his suitcase.

Bethany watched him for a moment, then turned, and closing the door behind her, went downstairs. She found Su Ching in the living room, sitting at her desk.

"Tiger will leave this morning?" Su Ching asked.

Bethany nodded. "I want to go with him."

"And he will not let you?"

"No."

Su Ching replaced the plumed pen in the inkstand as she turned to face Bethany. In a gentle voice she said, "You are in love with Tiger, aren't you?"

"Yes, Su Ching."

"And he loves you." It was a statement, not a question. Red-manicured nails drummed impatiently on the desktop. "You are as determined as he to get the dragon and take it back to Hong Kong, to sell it to the highest bidder?"

Bethany nodded. "It belonged to my father, and to Tiger's father. It—"

"It belongs to China."

"But they risked their lives for it—and for China. Now it belongs to us, and to you."

"I want no part of it," Su Ching said angrily.

Bethany looked at Tiger's mother. "But your husband risked his life for it. He—"

"He died because of it!" Su Ching cried.

"What...what do you mean?" Involuntarily Bethany backed away.

"They killed him!" Su Ching's voice was filled with despair.

"Tiger didn't tell me. He didn't—"

"He doesn't know." Su Ching's hands, as delicate as an ivory fan, fluttered against her sides.

"Su Ching...?"

"They said it was an accident. They said that the car that came from nowhere, up over the curb onto the walk, was out of control. But that was a lie. I know it was a lie."

Bethany's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to say, how do you know? How can you be sure?

Su Ching, as though reading her thoughts, said, "My husband did not die immediately. When the police brought him to me he was still alive. He tried to tell me what had happened. The words were so faint I could barely hear him. His head was in my lap, so I put my ear to his lips.

" 'It was them,' he whispered.

"Who, darling? I cried in my anguish.

"'Same men. Week ago after me. Recognized driver.' He clutched my hand. 'The golden dragon,' he said. 'They want the dragon.' Those were his last words," she said.

Cold, deadly fear gripped Bethany as she stared at Tiger's mother. For a moment she couldn't speak. When she could she said, "I need your help, Su Ching.
I want to go with Tiger but he won't let me. Please, I must go with him."

For a long time Su Ching only looked at her. Then she nodded. "Yes," she said. "I will help you."

Chapter
12

"
Bethany is upset," Su Ching said when Tiger was ready to leave. "She asked me to say goodbye to you."

"I'm sorry she's upset, but I want her here where I know she'll be safe." He saw the questioning look on his mother's face and added, "She'll be safe after I'm gone."

"Because whoever is after the golden dragon will follow you? Because you expect danger?"

Tiger rested his traveling case on the floor. "No, Mother, I don't expect it but I'll be prepared for it. If there's trouble I don't want to have to worry about Bethany. Besides, it will be easier for me to travel alone. I'm Chinese. I'm a man and I—"

"Ah, you are a man, therefore it is all right for you to go and for her to stay behind. Have we returned to the old days then? The days before the revolution?" The almond eyes flashed with anger.

The Dragon Lady, Tiger thought, half angry, half amused. He knew from experience that when his mother was in this kind of a mood no one could reason with her. Certainly his father hadn't been able to. He still remembered the hot flush of frustration rushing to his father's face when he was helpless against Su Ching's cold anger. "There's been many a time," his father had once told him, "when I'd like to take your mother across my knee and whale some of that Chinese stubbornness out of her." Then his father had grinned. "But somehow I couldn't see myself doing that to a princess of a royal dynasty."

Forcing himself to speak reasonably, Tiger took his mother's hands. "I can travel faster alone. Certainly I will be less conspicuous alone than I would be with an American woman. Bethany is young, she's... fragile. She wouldn't be able to keep up if there was danger."

"I thought she did rather well two weeks ago in the courtyard."

Tiger's lips tightened. "I will not argue about this," he said as he released Su Ching's hands. "I have to leave. I'll send a telegram to Chang Lu, then I'll catch the one-thirty train. Please say goodbye to Bethany for me. I know she's angry, but it'll be all right when I return with the dragon." He kissed his mother's cheek. "Take care of her," he said. "And of yourself." Then, before Su Ching could respond, he picked up his traveling case and quickly left the house.

Su Ching stood where she was. When the outer door shut she flinched, then closed her eyes in silent prayer. She hoped she had done the right thing.

* * *

The woman who boarded at the rear of the train was dressed in dark-green trousers, a Mao jacket and black slippers. Her hair was tied back by a scarf and covered with a wide coolie hat that partially hid her face. She sat in the back of the soft class car, head bent, an open book of Chinese poetry on her lap. When a worker pushed a cart with green tea down the aisle the woman accepted a cup without speaking.

The day was hot. Even the air coming in through the open windows seemed too warm to breathe. Other passengers stirred restlessly but the woman did not change her position.

The train passed through fertile river valleys, across broad plains where rice fields flourished, then began a slow ascent into the mo
untains. Slowing to a crawl, it
labored painfully up the steep grades. When it stopped to take on a few passengers waiting beside the track, several people already on the train went to stand on the steps. One of them was Tiger Malone. He passed the woman in the Mao jacket without even seeing her.

When the train stopped at Xiamen, near the mouth of the River Jiulong, more people boarded. But all of them went to hard class. The woman ate a few rice cakes and drank from a bottle of mineral water.

Thirty minutes out of the port city of Fuzhou the train wheezed to a stop. Passengers shifted in then-seats and looked out of the windows. A conductor scurried up and down the aisle, speaking in rapid Chinese. Twenty minutes went by. The train didn't move. The passengers grew restless and one by one they left their seats to wander out to the door.

Tiger stood up and stretched, then he followed the others down the aisle. There was only one person left in the car now, the woman with the coolie hat.

"It's very warm in here," Tiger said pleasantly in Chinese. "It may be some time before we leave. Wouldn't you be more comfortable outside where it is cooler?"

The woman didn't respond. Her head was bent so that he couldn't see her face.

"Are you ill? Perhaps I could get you some tea."

Still there was no response.

"Madame?" Tiger looked at her curiously. She was so still it seemed she didn't even breathe. There was something... something about the slope of her shoulders, the feet so precisely together... His muscles tightened. With a growl of anger he lifted the brim of the coolie hat and found himself looking into clear gray eyes, slightly tilted by makeup, and a face that had been darkened by one shade.

"Hi," Bethany said, trying to smile. "It's hot, isn't it? Maybe we should go stand outside."

Tiger stared at her, then without thinking, so angry he wanted to shake her, he yanked Bethany to her feet. "Damn it," he roared, "what in the hell are you doing here?"

"It was a nice day for a train ride and I—"

Her coolie hat fell forward, covering her face as he grasped her shoulders.

"Let me go!" Bethany tried to struggle out of his grasp, unable to see, and unable to get away from him.

"I told you I wanted you to stay with my mother. How dare you disobey me?"

Bethany broke away from him. She raised her hat so that she could look at him, as angry as he was now. "Disobey?" Her voice rose.
"Disobey!
Who do you think you are? Some feudal lord ordering his subjects around? I'll do what I want to do and go where I want to go. And I'm going to Chungtai."

"Not with me you aren't."

Her lips tightened. "Then I'll go alone."

"No you won't," Tiger bit out. "When we get into Fuzhou you will take a train back to Tsingyun. My mother must be frantic with worry. She—" His expression darkened. "I'll be damned, she knew you were going, didn't she? She helped you!" He rubbed one finger against her cheek, and his finger smudged the dark makeup. "The makeup, the clothes, she arranged for everything, didn't she?"

"Because she knew I was right, that I should go with you." Bethany lifted her chin defiantly. "I've come this far, Tiger, I'm not going to retreat now. You send me back to Tsingyun on one train and I'll catch the next one going to Chungtai." She put her hand on his arm. "Please," she said, "I don't want to fight about this—about anything. I want to be with you, I want to know for myself that you're all right. I couldn't stand not knowing if you were safe."

Tiger looked down at her. His face was harsh, the green eyes still narrowed with anger.

"Please," Bethany said again. "Please, darling."

"If I let you come you will do exactly as I say? Without argument?"

"I promise." A wave of relief flooded through her. It was easy to say that if he didn't take her she would make her own way to Chungtai, but the idea of making the trip alone scared her senseless. Maybe that was all that really did scare her, the idea of not being with Tiger. With him she knew she could face whatever danger might lay ahead. She trusted him and she believed in him. He would take care of her; she would take care of him. He was still angry, but she could handle his anger. What she couldn't handle was being left behind.

They left the car but before they did, Tiger said, "When we return take the seat you had. It would look strange if you came to sit with me or I with you." He looked down at her, his face still severe. "In China a woman would not behave as you have behaved. She would obey her husband without question or argument."

For one long moment Bethany glared at Tiger, then she tipped her head so that the coolie hat hid her face, hoping to look like any other Chinese wife being chastised by her husband. "Will we go on to Chung-tai tonight?" she asked meekly.

Tiger shook his head. "No, the distance is too great. Depending on the schedule of the trains, it will take us three or four days to reach Chungtai. Tonight we will stay in Fuzhou."

And tonight I will soothe your anger away, Bethany thought. Tonight in Fuzhou.

The city, on the north bank of the Min River, was set in the midst of beautiful hills. Bethany, head lowered, followed Tiger away from the train station. The streets along the river weren't paved. All along the bank she saw people bathing in the same water where chickens were being plucked and washed, and chamber pots were being emptied. She paused for a mo
ment, staring in fascination, then quickly hurried to catch up with Tiger.

When they reached the main section of the city the streets were paved and filled with bicycles. Tiger slowed his steps and looked around for a hotel. "Fuzhou was a port of call for Marco Polo," he told Bethany. "In the thirteenth century it was already a thriving commercial center for trade. It's not a city for tourists so the accommodations won't be what you're accustomed to."

"I didn't expect to stay in luxury hotels on this trip," Bethany said.

Without answering Tiger turned and walked quickly through a small park toward a group of buildings. One, a three-story gray building proved to be a hotel. When Bethany caught up with him, Tiger said, "Stay behind me. Keep your head lowered and do not speak." He strode into the hotel, with Bethany a few steps behind him.

When he had arranged for the room, paying the yuan in advance, he motioned with a jerk of his head for Bethany to follow him up the three flights of stairs.

In spite of her resolve not to utter one word of complaint, Bethany gasped when she entered the room. The bed in the corner was made of slats of wood covered with a straw-filled mattress. There were hooks for clothes on the wall, one chair, and a window without a screen.

"Well," Bethany said, trying to sound hearty, "this
isn’
t so bad, is it?" She crossed the floor to the bathroom. Inside there was a toilet without a seat, a sink, one towel, and a rusted pipe jutting out of the wall for
the shower. Quickly she backed out, not looking at Tiger.

The temperature in the room was stifling. She opened the top button of the Mao jacket and went to sit on the lumpy bed.

"Are you hungry?" Tiger asked.

"A little."

"Do you want to wash up before dinner?"

"No, just my hands. I don't want to wash the color off my face."

Tiger glared at her. "How did you persuade my mother to help you?"

"I'm not sure. I said I wanted to go with you and she understood how I felt; she thought that I should be with you."

"Damn!" He exploded with a string of Chinese words that made Bethany want to shrink back against the wall. Maybe I should have let him do this alone, she thought. Maybe I should have stayed behind. But no, Bethany knew even as she looked around the shabby room that this was where she belonged. Until they found the golden dragon, until this was over, she would stay by Tiger's side.

They found a restaurant around the corner from the hotel. Tiger ordered and when the dishes came Bethany saw that there was something that looked like fried fish, along with a vegetable dish. With it Tiger ordered beer.

"What kind of fish is this?" Bethany asked when she had eaten most of it. "Fried eel."

Chopsticks poised midway between her plate and mouth, Bethany hesitated. "Oh," she said, then took
the piece of fish in her mouth and washed it down with a long swallow of beer.

The room had cooled a bit by the time they returned to the hotel. Because there was no shade on the window they undressed in the darkness. Bethany took a short cotton nightgown out of her bag. "I'm going to have a shower," she said. And with an attempt at humor added, "I'll try to use only half of the towel."

When Tiger made no reply she went into the bathroom and closed the door.

The one thin stream of water was cold. Bethany washed with the almost unlatherable soap, scrubbed herself as well as she could, and waited forever for the stream of water to rinse her body. Out of the shower she dried herself and put on the cotton nightgown. When she came out of the room, Tiger went in.

The straw mattress was lumpy, but more comfortable than Bethany would have thought. She pulled the sheet over her and moved back to the wall so that there would be room for Tiger. She felt strangely awkward and suddenly shy. Tiger was angry and she wasn't at all sure how she should handle his anger. She lay very still when the bathroom door opened and he crossed to the bed. He stood looking down at her for a moment, then without a word lay down beside her.

Bethany lay on her side, facing him. Tentatively she reached her hand out and touched his hip. He didn't move.

"Tiger?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sleepy?"

"No."

She took her hand away, but when she did Tiger's hand closed on her wrist and he brought it back and placed it on his hip. Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, Bethany began to stroke his thigh. He didn't move. Her hand went to his stomach. Her fingers caressed, stroking delicately up to his chest, curling in the patch of hair, lingering to circle a nipple before they began their downward travel to the flatness of his stomach.

Tiger didn't move or respond. Bethany touched his navel and began to follow the line of hair that led downward. She heard his indrawn breath, hesitated, then continued her descent. She touched him and he groaned, but didn't speak as she continued to caress him. Suddenly Tiger pushed her hand away. Without a word he rose up over her and pulled her into his arms. The heat of his skin burned through the thin material of her gown as he grasped her chin and held her while his mouth ravaged hers. There was no tenderness in him now, only passion and hunger. He bit the corners of her lips, taking her lower lip between his teeth to suckle and bite before he plunged his tongue into her mouth to engage her in a silken duel.