Barbara Faith - Kiss of the dragon (8 page)

Chapter 8

it was a little before noon when the
Dragon
rounded the tip of Po On Peninsula. Tiger decreased his speed as he entered the bay and headed toward a cluster of wooden buildings. Immediately several uniformed men ran out onto the pier and signaled a docking space.

Carefully Tiger maneuvered the boat up to the dock. He turned off the engine, then hurried to help Chang throw out the mooring ropes.

The men in the blue uniforms were armed. Their expressions were serious and impassive as helpers grabbed the ropes and secured the boat. Tiger saluted the officers and spoke to them in Chinese.

"Tiger is identifying himself and requesting permission to go ashore," Chang told Bethany. "One or two of these men are with the port authority. The others are probably immigration and customs."

"But why do they look so grim?" Bethany asked in a low voice.

"It is the universal expression of all government officials," Chang said with a slight smile. But his smile faded as two of the uniformed men boarded the boat and barked a question to Tiger.

"They want to know what we are carrying," Chang whispered. "Next they will ask to see our papers. Are your passport and visa in order?"

Bethany nodded. She didn't know what she had expected her entrance into China to be like, but she'd assumed it would be like Hong Kong where everyone had been courteous, even affable. One of the officials said something to her and she turned nervously to Tiger.

"Show him your passport," he said.

Bethany held out her papers. The man took them, looked at the photographs, then at Bethany. He stamped the passport and put it in his pocket as he turned and started off the boat, nodding for them to follow.

"Where is he going with my passport?" Bethany asked nervously.

"To the immigration office." Tiger took her arm. "Don't worry. I've never come in here by boat before, but I am sure it's standard operating procedure."

S.O.P., Bethany thought. I certainly hope that's all it is. She looked around her at the dull brown buildings, the stark, dry landscape. Everything seemed so bleak and desolate, even the thunderclouds that hung low on the horizon as though waiting for a chance to growl.

Another uniformed man sat behind a battered desk. He eyed them suspiciously and took the three passports from his officer. "What is the purpose of your visit to China?" he asked.

"We have come to visit my mother," Tiger said. "Chang Lu works for me. Miss Adams is my
fiancée
."

"Why do you have an American passport?"

"My father was an American; my mother is Chinese."

"Will the three of you be traveling together?"

"No, Chang Lu will stay with the boat. Miss Adams and I will travel together to the home of my mother."

"In what city?"

"Tsingyun."

"Your mother's name?"

"Madame Su Ching. She is of the family of Ching Wu-Chien."

"Ching Wu-Chien?" The official's voice changed imperceptibly. "An old and honorable family." His fingers drummed against the three passports for a moment. Then he handed Tiger both his passport and Bethany's. "I will keep Chang Lu's passport until the two of you return," he said. "The train station is twenty kilometers from here. Tomorrow morning at eight I will have one of my men drive you there. It connects with the train for Canton. From there you can take another train to Tsingyun."

"Thank you," Tiger said. "That would be most kind." He hesitated. "Are we the only boat that has stopped here in the last few days?"

"Yes." The official's eyebrows rose in question. "Why do you ask?"

"There was a boat similar to ours that seemed headed this way. I was curious, that is all." Tiger picked up his and Bethany's passports. With a nod to the assembled officers he led her out of the building.

A guard followed them out and stayed four paces behind all the way to the boat. When they were aboard he took up a position facing them.

"At least you will have company when we're gone." Tiger smiled wryly at Chang.

"We must be thankful for all things," Chang said with a self-mocking bow.

"I'm sorry that you must stay here; I hope it won't be for long. What worries me the most is that the other boat might tie up here and give you trouble."

"I doubt they would stop at an official port. I think they will look for a secluded place and try to avoid immigration."

"Perhaps you're right." Tiger looked at Bethany and when he saw the worried look on her face he took her hand and said. "I hope the uniforms haven't alarmed you. I know this place is pretty bleak, but the scenery and everything else will be different when we leave."

Bethany glanced around her at the terrain, and finally at the dock where the man in the blue uniform, his rifle cradled in one arm, stood guard. She wanted to tell Tiger that it was all right, that she wasn't afraid. But she was; afraid of this place and of these strange men. Hong Kong had been so different. It was a civilized, cosmopolitan city where she had seen almost as many European and American faces as she had Chinese. But this wasn't Hong Kong, this was China. Bethany took a deep breath and summoned a smile.

With as much conviction as she could muster she said, "I suppose all borders are alike. I don't know what I expected... a welcoming committee and a red carpet, maybe. Grim looking types with rifles are not my idea of friendly."

Tiger relaxed. He knew Bethany was still afraid, and he understood how different this was from anything she'd ever known or experienced. All of it, Hong Kong, the storms at sea, their being pursued and shot at, was beyond the realm of anything she'd ever known. Even this relationship between the two of them must seem new and strange to her. She was on unfamiliar territory, about to embark on what could be a dangerous venture in an alien land.

Tiger would try to make the transition easy for her, but he knew that the days ahead would be difficult for both of them.

He put his arm around her. "It will be better tomorrow," he promised. "Once we are on our way to Canton things will look brighter."

The warmth of his embrace comforted her. Bethany closed her eyes and leaned against him. Yes, she thought, tomorrow everything will be all right. When we're away from here and on the train.

The train bulged with people. What seemed like hundreds more fought to board. Tiger gripped Bethany's arm to propel her through the crowd. "Most Chinese trains have a soft and a hard section," he said as he helped her aboard. "I hope this one does."

"Hard and soft?"

"That's like first and second class in the West." Tiger turned as a uniformed attendant tried to shove
past them and spoke in rapid Chinese. The man shook his head and hurried on to the next car.

"Only one class." Tiger took Bethany's arm. "Come on, let's see if we can find a seat."

The seat was a wooden board, jammed together with other wooden boards. Tiger placed their two small suitcases under the seat as they squeezed into a space between an elderly woman who held a small child on her lap and a man with two live chickens at his feet. The small child, a round-faced boy with a bowl haircut, stared at Bethany with big black eyes.

More and more people crowded into the car, until they stood shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh, like sardines in an antiquated wooden box.

"We'll change trains in a few hours," Tiger said. "I'm sure the next train will be better than this."

Bethany nodded, too overwhelmed by the crowd of humanity surrounding her even to speak. It was hot; the only air—hot air—came from the open windows. The people around them were silent, staring at her with open curiosity as the train began to chug out of the station. She sat up straight, tucking her feet under the seat, then bent down to adjust the suitcase that Tiger had placed there.

As she did she glanced at the feet of the elderly woman seated next to her. The woman's feet, crippled by binding, were unbelievably tiny, no more than five inches in length. For one long moment Bethany stared, then quickly sat up. A feeling of sick horror overwhelmed her and she tried not to look at the woman.

All of this was alien to her. But this was China, Tiger's world. He wasn't wearing a Mao jacket like
most of these people. He was taller and better dressed than they were, but he was one of them. She wasn't, and never would be.

With a feeling that was very close to tears, Bethany closed her eyes so that she would not see the curious stares.

They changed trains at a place called Chinghen. This time they were able to sit in the "soft" section, and for the first time since they had docked yesterday, Bethany was able to relax.

From Chinghen it took only three hours to reach Canton. "Guangzhou," Tiger told her. "Canton is the western name. The dialect here is almost incomprehensible to other Chinese but I speak it well enough to make myself understood." He saw the smudges of fatigue under her eyes. "It's a modern city, Bethany. You'll feel better after you've had a shower and something to eat."

"I know." Bethany brushed her damp hair back from her face and stared out of the open window at the approaching city. She saw factory smokestacks, Buddhist temples, television antennae, pagodas, wooden shacks, European-style homes, high-rise buildings, hotels. And bicycles, thousands and thousands of bicycles.

China, she thought. This is China.

The White Swan Hotel was on the shores of the Chu River. It boasted a multilevel atrium with waterfalls and gardens, an arcade of shops, and large, airy rooms.

"Why don't you shower?" Tiger said when he put their bags on the bed. "I'll check on the train to Tsingyun and try to send a telegram to Mother." He
put a finger under Bethany's chin and smoothed her hair. "You look tired. Why don't you rest before dinner?"

Bethany looked at him for a long moment, then quietly leaned her head against his shoulder. I'm tired, she wanted to say. But I'm afraid, too, afraid of this strange and ancient land that is your heritage. Afraid to love you because of who you are.

But Bethany didn't voice her fears. She kissed him quietly and without passion and told him that she would bathe and rest and then she would be fine. After he left she took off her clothes. She showered and washed her hair and after toweling it dry she lay down on the big mahogany bed. She remembered the curious stares of the people on the train. From outside her window she could hear a chorus of bicycle bells.

The bells of Canton, she thought. Then she slept.

Bethany was still asleep when Tiger came in two hours later. He put a package on the bed, then sat down next to her. Her lips were slightly parted, her cheeks flushed. One hand curled against her cheek, the blond hair tumbled loose on the pillow. She looked very young and vulnerable and for a moment Tiger felt a wave of tenderness that rocked him like a physical blow. He put his hand on the curve of her hip and when she didn't respond he bent to kiss her temple.

"Wake up," he whispered against her skin. "It's time for dinner."

Bethany sighed. Without opening her eyes she reached up, encircling his neck, and brought his face to hers to kiss him, lazily, sleepily, murmuring his name against his lips.

"Bethany...?"

Silencing him with a kiss, she began to unbutton his shirt so that she could reach her hand inside and touch his skin. She heard the rasp of his breath as her fingers tangled in the thatch of his chest hair, then reached to fumble with his belt buckle.

Gone for the moment were her doubts and fears. She was lost in a dream, carried away on a tide of warmth and feeling and the sheer pleasure of awakening to his touch.

Tiger threw back the sheet. He found her breasts through the thin material of her nightgown. She whispered her pleasure and his mouth covered hers.

"Wait." Tiger moved away from her. Bethany opened her eyes and watched while he removed his clothes. Her lips, moist and inviting, were parted as the tip of her tongue darted out to touch the corner of her mouth. Her breath came in quickened gasps.

Tiger looked down at her. He felt the thud of his heart against his ribs, the almost painful swelling of desire. Slowly he pulled back the sheet. In a voice made harsh by need he asked her to sit up and when she did he pulled the gown over her head and tossed it aside. Then he was beside her, his mouth crushed against hers, feeling the silken loveliness of her against him. Her hands came up around his shoulders, caressing, urging him closer, and he knew that they couldn't wait. It had to be now. Now, quickly, urgently, or they would burst with wanting.

With a cry Tiger rolled Bethany beneath him. Hands on her hips he thrust himself into her, moaning aloud as her softness closed around him. His mouth covered hers. He caught her lower lip between his teeth, holding it tight while he ran his tongue over
it. He bit the corners of her mouth, almost beside himself with need. Then, afraid of hurting her, he pulled back. But when he did Bethany cupped his head and threaded her fingers through his hair, to bring him again to her lips.

Her body lifted to his, demanding as he demanded, on fire with the need to have him closer and yet closer.

"Bethany...ah, Bethany..." Tiger's arms tightened around her as he rocked her close, all sense of reason lost in the pleasure of the moment.