Barbara Faith - Kiss of the dragon (15 page)

"My wife and I have an extra room." The driver looked doubtful. "But my house is humble, perhaps it would not be suitable."

"It will be suitable." Tiger looked out of the back window; no car was following them. "I would consider it a great favor if you and your wife would allow us to stay with you."

"Then it is done." The driver slowed to a circumspect speed as Tiger settled back in the seat. Bethany had stopped crying but when she tried to move away from him, Tiger put his arm around her and drew her closer. He remembered the way he had felt when he went back into the station and Bethany wasn't there. He'd gone hollow inside, afraid for a moment that she had run away from him. Then when rational thinking had taken over, fear clutched at him and he'd raced toward the other exit in time to see her being shoved into a car.

His arm tightened around her shoulders. He knew that if the man who had taken her hadn't already been dead that he would have killed him.

The cabdriver's house was at the end of an un-paved street. It was a square, box-shaped house, flat against the house next to it, with a fenced-in dirt yard in the front and chicken coops in the back. The front door opened. A tall woman dressed in a brown coolie jacket and pants came out into the yard. Her hair and eyebrows were streaked with gray. She had laugh lines around her eyes and mouth and when she smiled showed two silver teeth.

The driver said something to her. She listened, then bowed and said something Bethany didn't understand.

"Mrs. Li says that we are welcome," Tiger told Bethany. He took her arm and led her into the house behind the still smiling woman.

The room she showed them to was small but clean. There was a window, a straw mattress in one corner, a table and one chair. She said something else and bowed herself out of the room.

"Mrs. Li will prepare dinner for us," Tiger said as Bethany sat down on the chair.

"I don't think I can eat."

"You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm sorry about the suitcase. We've lost everything. All of our clothes...." She tried to tuck a strand of her hair under the kerchief.

"It doesn't matter. Tomorrow I will buy other things."

"If I had done as you said—"

Tiger took her hands. "It's my fault. I suspected the young man and I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry." His hands gripped her. "It would have been my fault if anything had happened to you, Bethany. When I saw him shove you into the car I..." He stopped, unable to go on. "I won't let you out of my sight again," he said finally. "Not for a minute."

A little while later Mrs. Li knocked at their door and led them into a small kitchen where she had prepared bean curd with egg, flat bread, and noodles mixed with dried fish. For the first time since Bethany had started on the trip she found that she was hungry. She ate everything that was served and even drank the green tea without complaint.

Mrs. Li watched her while she ate.

With her gaze still on Bethany she spoke to Tiger. He answered her and to Bethany he said in English, "She wanted to know if you were English. I told her your mother was English but your father was Chinese and that you live in Hong Kong." He frowned. "I'm afraid we will have to do something about your hair tomorrow."

"Like what?" Bethany said.

"I think we will have to cut it, Bethany. And if it is possible, we should color it."

Bethany touched the kerchief that bound her hair and stared at Tiger. Cut her hair? Color it?

When the meal was finished and Mrs. Li and Tiger had each bowed several times, he and Bethany retired to their small room. By the dim light of the naked overhead light, her back to Tiger, Bethany undressed. Because she had no gown she pulled her half-slip up over her breasts and folded the blue cheongsam over
the chair. Without looking at Tiger she knelt on the straw mattress and moved as close to the wall as she could get.

Tiger didn't speak as he turned out the light. She felt his weight on the mattress and held her breath.

"This has been a difficult day for you," Tiger said into the silence of the room. "Try to sleep now."

Bethany closed her eyes. She felt so very tired. She shifted to a more comfortable position, stifling a groan when she discovered a bruise on her hip she didn't know she had. Her whole body had begun to ache from the jolt she'd suffered when the car had come to
a
crashing halt. At last she relaxed, but close to the edge of sleep she jerked awake. The vision of the young man in the blue Mao cap hanging lifelessly across the front seat seared her mind's eye. All the horror of her kidnapping, the wild chase through the streets and the crash, came rushing back.

"What is it?" Tiger asked.

"Nothing, I..." Involuntarily Bethany shuddered.

"You have every right to be frightened by what happened today," he said as he reached for her hand.

For
a
moment Bethany stiffened and tried to draw her hand away. But when he said, "Come, let me hold you," she didn't resist. Instead, scarcely knowing what she was doing, seeking only the security of his arms, Bethany clung to him. Burying her face in the hollow between his shoulder and throat, she burrowed closer, trying to blot out the terrible experiences of the day.

Tiger stroked the length of her back, calming her fears, soothing her to quietness. Without thinking Bethany pressed her body close to his. He could feel her warmth and her softness as she trembled against
him, and felt the urgency of need rise in his body. He tried to suppress it, knowing this was not the time, knowing that Bethany needed only the comfort of his arms. But oh God, how he wanted her!

Bethany knew. Suddenly, through her fear, she became aware of Tiger's urgency and it was as though she stopped, hesitated, and shifted from fear into awareness, then to awakening desire.

She kissed the hollow of his throat as his arms tightened around her, then lifted her face for his kiss. With the kiss all the tension of the day and all of the angry words that had passed between them vanished. She was safe in Tiger's arms, enveloped by the warmth of his body.

"Bethany," he breathed against her lips. He cupped her breasts and ran his fingertips over the ready peaks, shaking with pleasure when she whispered his name.

Tension, anger and danger were forgotten. They were lost in each other, their breathing quickening as they waited for the moment when their bodies would be joined.

Tiger seared a path of kisses down her throat. He nuzzled her ear and told her that he loved her. Bethany clasped his shoulders and uttered little cries of delight as he caressed her with his hands and his mouth. One hand traveled down and across her stomach. He touched her gently, teased and excited her until it became more than either of them could bear.

"Tiger," she whispered. "Oh, Tiger, please."

He came up over her then.
"Yes," he answered. "Yes, love,
now."

This is the way that wounds are healed, Bethany thought as she gave herself up to the sheer pleasure of
the moment. This is all that matters, this closeness we share, this joy that goes beyond description. She lifted her body to his. Her fingers threaded through the thick black hair as she matched the cadence of his strokes and wondered if anything could ever be this wonderful again. Would she ever be this alive again? Every nerve tingled with excitement as she moved still closer to him.

Tiger rocked her body in time with his, whispering words of love. He leaned to take one rigid nipple between his teeth and an electric shock of pleasure shot through Bethany. She gasped his name and turned her face into his shoulder as her world exploded into a shimmering kaleidoscope of color and feeling. Tiger's arms came around her. He sought her mouth and cried the joy of his fulfillment against her lips.

They held each other, heart beating against heart, as he soothed her to calmness and told her how beautiful and brave she was.

A straw-filled mattress in a small and simple room, Bethany thought as she drifted off to sleep in Tiger's arms. But it's home, my home because Tiger is here. Because I love him.

Chapter 15

A
man and a woman had entered the house of Mrs. Li the day before. A man and a boy left the house the next afternoon. The boy wore a navy-blue cotton coolie outfit and soft black slippers. A blue Mao cap covered his hair.

Bethany hadn't protested that morning when Tiger sat her in the chair in their room and told her he had to cut her hair. She'd clenched her hands in her lap as she looked up at him, her gray eyes wide with appeal. "Isn't there any other way?" she'd asked.

"I'm afraid not." He held her head straight and began to cut with scissors he'd borrowed from Mrs. Li. Handfuls of golden-blond hair fell to the floor. Bethany closed her eyes. She knew that Tiger was right, this had to be done, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Tiger went on until her neck felt cold and bare, then stopped, tilted her face up, and began to trim around her face. Bangs fell across her forehead and he brushed them back with his fingers.

"That will do," Tiger said as he looked at her with a face as strained as her own. "Now we will color it."

Choking back words of protest, she leaned over a bucket of water and closed her eyes while Tiger shampooed her hair with the black tint he had purchased that morning.

He knew she hated this as much as he hated doing it, but they had no choice. The same men who had attacked Bethany in his mother's courtyard in Tsing-yun, the men who had followed them to the South China Sea, were still looking for them. Even though one of them had been killed yesterday, there would be others to take his place. They had to move carefully. The disguise would give them a measure of protection, a protection they desperately needed.

When Bethany's hair was dry Tiger handed her a mirror and led her to the window. "You look different," he said in a low voice, "but you are still beautiful."

She looked into the mirror. Someone with shaggy, boyishly cropped black hair looked back at her. "It's awful," she said in a shocked voice. "I look awful."

Tiger put his arms around her and before she could speak he led her to the chair, sat down, and pulled her onto his lap. "It would be impossible for you to look awful." He tilted her chin up so that he could kiss her as he stroked the back of her neck. "You feel sleek and sexy," he whispered.

"I don't feel sexy." Bethany pulled away from him. "I feel naked."

One black eyebrow rose. "Really? How nice." He pulled the half-slip that covered her down to her waist.

"Tiger!" she protested. But the protest died on her lips when he kissed her breasts. "It's late," she whispered against the thickness of his hair. "We don't have time."

"We'll always have time." He picked her up and carried her to the straw-filled bed. "We'll always make time." Gently he lowered her and stripped the slip and the panties down over her ankles. "You have lovely legs," he said, looking down at her as he stepped out of his trousers. "When this is over, when we are back in Hong Kong, you must never again wear pants. I want to see you in short swirling skirts and high heels." He kissed the back of her knee and felt her shiver as he began to trail a line of kisses up her thighs.

Bethany gasped. "Tiger, please..."

"Please what, Bethany?" He nipped her tender skin and softly caressed it with his tongue before he moved up over her to kiss her breasts. He held her close while he kissed her and stroked the back of her slender neck. He wanted to tell her that she was still beautiful and that he loved her. But he didn't tell her with words, he told her with the way he held her and by the touch of his hands.

I adore you, his hands said. I love the feel of your skin beneath my fingertips, the warmth of your body close to mine. I love your determination and your bravery, and yes, I even love your stubbornness. He sought her lips and when they parted beneath his he
sighed against them. She put her arms around him and he knew it was time—it was past time.

Gently, almost reverently, Tiger joined his body to Bethany's, holding her close, making them one. As his body began to move against hers Tiger knew that he would never tire of loving her. Bethany lifted her body to his and Tiger groaned with pleasure. She murmured a litany of love and his body tightened and trembled.

"My love," he whispered against her throat. "My love."

Tiger felt the frantic beat of her heart, the tightening of her muscles as she moaned his name. His body shook in a paroxysm of pleasure. He clung to Bethany, knowing that if he didn't he would rocket into space. He cupped her face with his hands. He kissed her, ravaging her mouth with his tongue, still in the throes of passion, never wanting it to end.

At last Tiger held her in the crook of his arm, seeking calmness, feeling the rapid thud of his heart against his chest. I love her, he thought. With her I feel a depth of passion I have never felt before. She is all I want, all I will ever want. And suddenly he knew that the golden dragon had lost its importance. He didn't need it; all he needed in this world was Bethany's love.

Tiger tilted her face up to his. "Let's go home, Bethany," he said. "Let's go back to Hong Kong."

Her gray eyes widened. "Go back to Hong Kong? What do you mean? What about the dragon?"

"We don't need it, Bethany. I have enough money. We can live comfortably on what I make from the club. We don't need—"

"I-do." Bethany pulled away from him and sat up. "I need the dragon. My father and your father wanted us to have it. We've risked our lives for it. We can't stop now. I
won't
stop now." She shook her head. "We've come so far, Tiger. We can't give up now."

Tiger looked at her for a long moment. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You know how dangerous it can be. And still you insist on continuing?"

Bethany lifted her chin. "Yes, Tiger, I insist."

He looked at her for a long moment. "Then we'll continue," he said. "And God help us both."

The train left Chinhai at three o'clock that afternoon, past temples and pagodas, past bedclothes airing on bamboo poles from whitewashed houses, over stone bridges out to rolling hills and a countryside green with summer. There were few people in soft class, and none of them paid any attention to the tall man or the boy with him. If they did they assumed the boy was a younger brother making his first trip on a train, for he kept his face turned away from the other passengers to look out at the passing landscape.

It was after dark when Bethany and Tiger arrived in Hangzhou. The train for Nanjing would not leave until seven the next morning. They spent the night in a small hotel near the railway station.

"I look like a boy," Bethany said when she looked at herself in the mirror over the dresser of their hotel room.

"Then take off your clothes so I'll know you're a woman." Tiger smiled at her.

"A woman who needs a shower." She frowned at herself in the mirror. "I don't look like me anymore, do
l?"

"You are you," Tiger said. "Whatever the color of your hair or your skin. Now go and take your shower and when you are finished we will lie together and I will tell you how beautiful I think you are."

Bethany's face softened. She took his hand. "Come shower with me," she said. "We'll bathe each other."

Hand in hand they stepped into the shower. Carefully, tenderly, they washed each other's bodies. Hands lingered over curves and planes, hesitated over places of pleasure, kissed and clung while the water cascaded over them. When it became too much, they stepped out and quickly dried each other.

They had a bed this time, a bed with a mattress that sloped and sagged in the middle. But that didn't matter; Bethany had come home once more to the warmth of Tiger's arms.

At the station the next morning they drank hot tea and ate rolls stuffed with meat and mushrooms. Again, as she had the day before, Bethany kept her head lowered and the cap pulled down over her eyes. From time to time, without thinking, her fingers touched the back of her neck. She felt exposed, and wondered if her hair would ever grow long again.

"Do you think... ?" she started to ask Tiger, then stopped. He was pretending to read a newspaper, but his eyes were narrowed as he scanned every waiting passenger.

Bethany swallowed as she felt the fear that was by now so familiar creep into her body. She saw Tiger stiffen and lower his head as a voice called out over the
loudspeaker. "Come," he said, "they're calling our train."

She wanted to look around to find whatever it was that he thought spelled danger. Instead she picked up the new wicker basket that held their few belongings and followed him down the track. They boarded the train, she a few steps behind him. Two men, a man and a woman, and a single man boarded behind them.

When they found their seats Tiger spoke to her in Chinese, his voice impatient, an older brother speaking to his younger brother. Then leaning closer to her whispered in English, "Take whatever you need from the basket and put it in your pockets. Soon the train will begin to move out of the yard. When I speak to you again I want you to get up and walk back to the door. Don't hurry. Just act naturally."

He turned away from her, took a newspaper from the basket, and began to read.

Bethany stared straight ahead, too frightened to speak. The door of the train clanged shut. A voice rang out. She took the dark makeup, eyeliner, a comb and the scarf out of the basket. Steam hissed, the train began to move out through the yard, chugging slowly, past freight cars, signalmen, and workers with lunch pails. Rain spattered the windows as the train began to pick up speed. They were on the outskirts of the town, passing a wooded area.

"Now." The word was so low Bethany could barely hear it. Her mouth was dry, her palms wet. She stood up, and with her head lowered walked slowly to the back of the train. Suddenly Tiger shot around her. He pulled the door open and shoved her out onto the swaying platform.

A shout rang out in the car behind them as Tiger jerked the handle of the platform door and kicked it open. Wind and rain blew in.

The door behind them started to open. Tiger put his foot against it. Bethany saw a man with a gun, his face twisted with anger as he put his shoulder to the door.

"Jump!" Tiger ordered.

Bethany felt a hand in the middle of her back. She screamed, then hurtled through space. The ground came up to meet her. She fell, rolled, and came to a thudding stop against the trunk of a tree.

Bruised, dazed, the breath almost knocked out of her, Bethany stood on shaky legs and clung to the tree for support. She shook her head, trying to get her bearings. Everything had happened so fast. The open door, the ground rushing by, the man with a gun... Tiger! her mind screamed. Where was he? Oh, my God, what if he was still on the train? What if he was wounded or...?

The train chugged farther down the track. As Bethany watched, she saw him leap from the train, hit the ground and roll.

With a strangled cry Bethany ran toward him.

Tiger stood up, waved and began running toward her through the slanting rain. "Are you all right?" he cried when he reached her. He grabbed her shoulders, then moved down her arms to her hands, as though assuring himself that no bones were broken. He touched her face. "You've got a nasty scratch," he said.

"I haven't had much practice jumping off trains." Bethany attempted a smile.

"It was a terrible thing to do to you, but I wasn't sure until we were on the train that the man I spotted watching us in the station was on to us." Tiger pushed the rain-damp hair back from his face. "After you jumped I wrestled the gun out of his hand and knocked him down—that's what took me so long."

"They're trying to kill us," Bethany said. "But that doesn't make sense, Tiger. We know where the dragon is; if they kill us they lose the dragon."

"Not us, Bethany.
Me.
It's me they want out of the way because they think they'll be able to force you to lead them to the statue." Tiger put his hands on her shoulders. "That's why they tried to kidnap you that night in Tsingyun, and that's why they forced you into the car the other day."

"You're scaring me," she said.

"Good, I want you to be scared. I want you to know how serious this is." Tiger looked around. "We've got to find shelter. Come on, let's head for that stand of trees."

But first they went back to where she had landed to find her cap. By that time the rain had slowed to a mean, misty drizzle. Heavy gray clouds hung low in the sky and a cold wind blew through the trees. They walked for over an hour before they found a deserted shed.

"I suppose we'll have to take what shelter we can find," Tiger said. "Let's try it."

The walls were made of mud brick. A broken half-door hung on one rusted hinge. But inside the shed was warm and dry. The smell, not unpleasant of animals that may have once sheltered there, clung to the straw strewn on the rough wooden floor.

"We'll spend the night here." Tiger looked around. "Tomorrow morning we'll try to find a road and transportation."

Bethany nodded as she sank down on a pile of straw, accepting the arrangement without complaint. So much had happened to her since she'd left home that spending the night in a deserted barn almost seemed normal.

When it grew dark the rain began again, slapping hard against the straw roof. They leaned their backs against the rough wall of the barn. Tiger put his arms around Bethany. They talked of many things, but not about the golden dragon.