The Lady's Scandalous Night (3 page)

River was asleep on her side with her back turned to him. Her long hair draped over her shoulder and neck like a curtain, the darkest black against ivory pale skin. It wasn’t long before he went hard again.

He woke her gently, his lips brushing over the back of her neck. She shivered, before turning to fit herself into his arms.

“Why?” he asked.

But she shook her head and wouldn’t speak of it. If they spoke, the delicate bond between them might break apart. Instead of words, he made love to her the way he should have the first time. Carefully. Patiently. Then they slept. Or rather, she slept while he stayed awake a little longer to hold her.

Once he and Ru Shan had run up a mountain trail, pushing themselves farther and harder until their legs ached and their lungs nearly burst. They had expended every last shred of energy. Then, with their minds clear of everything, they began their sword training.

This is what he had done. He had run a hundred
li
as fast as he could, but not with his body. His spirit was purged and his soul bared. At that moment, he’d conjured a single thought.

This was why he’d come.

He’d sworn loyalty to Governor Li’s army, but he’d made another promise in spirit to this woman, long before he’d ever met her. When he’d seen River, that bond pulled tight within him. She felt it too, he was certain of it now.

He touched River’s cheek. She’d captivated him with her courage as much as her beauty. They had both trusted Ru Shan. They both suffered now that he had turned traitor.

There was no escaping his duty. He was going to find Ru Shan and give him an honorable death. But Chen also needed to do something to put the scales in balance. He could become River’s protector. He’d do everything within his power to honor her and her family.

Eventually, he drifted. When he awoke, it was morning and River had left, but he remembered what he had resolved to do. Chen would bow before the ailing Master Yao that morning and ask to marry his daughter. He hoped their grief would heal in time.

His own family probably still lived on in the hamlet where he was born, but he had been fostered out as a child, handed over as a servant to the nobleman who served another nobleman who served Governor Li Tao. He was meant to be in the infantry, a foot soldier like Ru Shan, but Li Tao’s commanders were always looking for skill. He’d been chosen and trained. The Rising Guard had become his new family, until Ru Shan had offered brotherhood and friendship.

River’s perfume lingered in the blankets. Breathing deep, Chen closed his eyes and thought of her long legs clasped about his hips. She’d disappeared before morning broke. She’d accepted him into her body for one night, but would she accept him as a husband, knowing exactly what he needed to do?

Chen splashed water from the washbasin onto his face and took extra care retying his hair. He ran his hands over his outer robe, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. His pulse beat relentlessly as if an army of hundreds awaited him with broadswords and axes.

He should have come prepared to make a proper proposal, but his thoughts were far from marriage when he came here. Ru Shan’s father wouldn’t be happy to receive him. River had asked him not to upset the man further because he was ill with grief. The meeting this morning would be tougher than any battle. Chen’s stomach churned, just as it did before combat.

He was thinking of River as he left the room. Already anticipating the next time he’d see her. He could make her happy. He knew he could.

The courtyard outside was empty. Odd.

The sun appeared high enough to indicate they were well into the Snake Hour. He’d stayed in bed unusually late with thoughts of River keeping him warm.

Hadn’t Ru Shan told stories of being awoken before dawn to work in the mill? The servants would all be up, sweeping, cooking. The smell of rice would float from the kitchen. Yet the courtyard was empty. No morning sounds from the kitchen or from any of the rooms surrounding it.

Chen went to the first door and opened it. It was another bedchamber, larger than his, but the furnishings were gone. All personal belongings had been removed. He closed the door and went on to the next room, his muscles tensing. Black bile rose in his throat.

All the rooms were empty. Abandoned.

River sat in the study at her father’s desk. The walls had been stripped bare of all scrolls and paintings. She’d instructed the servants to take anything of value with them. Those items could be sold or used for bribery if it came to that. If nothing else, the objects of their household would have some sentimental value to Father. Something to remind him of the home his family had built.

She balanced a calligraphy brush over a sheet of paper. Her characters formed a tidy column from top to bottom, right to left. A door slammed nearby and she startled, ruining the character she’d been so carefully writing.

The letter to her father was already finished. This one was to Ru Shan. She hoped it would find its way into his hands somehow.

Another door slammed, followed by the heavy stomp of boots. Her pulse jumped and her palms grew damp. Valiantly, she tried to continue, but her brushstrokes wavered and the characters came out uneven. Ru Shan would see how broken her thoughts were if he were ever to read this.

The door to the study flew open and Chen stood before her. His expression twisted into rage.

“A trick,” he accused through gritted teeth.

Her grip tightened on the brush. The ink pooled below the tip to soak through the paper. She set the implement down with a shaking hand. She’d made a dangerous wager by remaining here.

“They’re all gone,” she replied. “The servants, Father, Ru Shan—”

He marched across the study until only the desk separated them. “Ru Shan was
here
?”

She closed her eyes. She hadn’t expected the sight of him to make her stomach flutter or his closeness to render her body weak. It wasn’t fear that made her tremble. She had given herself to this man. He had shown her passion and tenderness, but he would hate her now. She’d betrayed him.

When she opened her eyes he was still glaring at her, his eyes black and endless. She would have done anything to be back in his arms. In the scarce hours between dusk and dawn, she had pretended that the lies didn’t exist between them.

“This won’t save your family, River. This only implicates your father as well as you in Ru Shan’s treachery.”

“We were already implicated,” she said sadly. “Such is the burden of family.”

“Why?” Chen demanded.

The last time he’d asked that of her, they’d been skin to skin. He had looked at her as if he would never let her go. Now he looked as if he couldn’t stand the sight of her.

Her chest clenched painfully and her throat went dry. “Just a trick,” she whispered.

“I told you, seducing me would not change my mind.”

“I know that.”

She could no longer tell herself she had gone to his room out of duty and sacrifice. Loneliness and desolation had crawled through the empty rooms like vermin after the last of the household departed. She could have tried to escape with them and risked Chen discovering the deception. Instead she’d stayed. She had gone to Chen searching for something. Anything.

He gripped the edge of the desk and leaned ominously over her. “If I fail, Li Tao will send his personal guard after your brother. They won’t be as merciful as me.”

She needed to calm herself. Her heart was beating too fast. “You won’t find him.”

Like her brother, River was now marked for death. Chen’s sword was strapped to his side. The only time she had seen him without it was in bed. Perhaps she was wrong about him. She’d dishonored and humiliated him. Maybe he would kill her now like he’d vowed to kill her brother. He would call it mercy.

His frown deepened as if he could read her thoughts. He turned and stormed from the room, striking the door frame in anger as he passed. After a moment to steady herself, she followed him out into the courtyard.

She found Chen tugging at the doors of the front gate, both hands gripped around the brass rings. The wood creaked and rattled, but the doors held. They’d been chained from the outside.

“I knew that you couldn’t be swayed. Not a man with your code of honor,” she said to his back. “But all we needed was time. How long until Li Tao assumes you’ve failed? My brother has until then to find a safe place.”

He swung around. “I’ll be out of here before then.”

“The Yao family still owes you a debt,” she continued, hiding behind formality. It was hard to look at Wei Chen in the daylight, after giving a part of herself to him. After knowing how tender he could be in the night. “If you hadn’t convinced the governor to let you go after Ru Shan yourself, we wouldn’t have this chance.”

She prayed her brother wouldn’t learn about Chen and try to return. That was probably what the two of them wanted; honorable battle, face to face. The fools.

“Don’t say that name to me.” Chen paced toward her. The hardened warrior was finally showing. “He told me you were right-minded and honest.”

“Well, now you know I’m none of those things.”

“Two faces,” he spat. Chen glared at her with a mixture of anger and disgust and her soul withered. “Exactly like your brother.”

River disappeared into the recesses of the house while Chen circled the courtyard like a caged wolf. That was the only way to describe how he felt. Feral and prowling. It was good that she’d left him. He was ready to lash out at anything to rid himself of this rage.

Her every sigh had been a betrayal.

He wasn’t going to think of her or her nameless dog of a brother. Instead Chen stared at the walls. The brick had been piled unusually high, as if the elder Yao had feared thieves this far outside of town.

A search of the storage areas and servants quarters yielded nothing. Of course River wouldn’t leave anything as useful as a ladder. If he stacked furniture beside the wall, he might be able to climb over.

He scavenged through the rooms of the abandoned house. The desk in the study appeared heavy, but he could probably drag it outside. He wasn’t certain the dining table would fit through the doors. The rest of the tables and chairs were low, but he could stack them.

Chen rolled up his sleeves. In the later part of the hour, he managed to heave and shove the pine wood desk from the study into the courtyard. It was solidly built and he was sweating in the midday sun. He needed the hard labor to burn the memory of River from his skin. She was still there, all around him, inside him.

River was likely laughing at him. Her less than nefarious plan, his less than glorious escape.

He dug his heels into the dirt and pushed against the desk with all his strength. The smell of smoke drifted into the courtyard. Something was burning.

He abandoned the cursed desk and traced the acrid odor to the kitchen at the eastern wing of the residence. River was standing fearfully over an iron pot on the stove. The lid bobbled from the heat trapped beneath. She reached for the handle, then jumped back, yelping in pain.

“What are you doing?” Chen grabbed a rag from the chopping block and moved the pot away from the stove.

“I was hungry,” she snapped.

He lifted the lid and turned away from the rise of steam. The smoke made him cough. The rice was both burnt and uncooked on top. A feat indeed.

“There’s not nearly enough water and you need to stir it.” He was no cook, but he had boiled enough rice by a campfire to know.

Her chin jutted out defiantly. “I’ll try again then.” She stuck her scalded finger into her mouth to soothe it, suddenly looking very young and vulnerable.

She’d looked just as lost when she’d propositioned him. When he’d taken her into his arms, she’d trembled and clung to him. She might have tried to deceive him for the sake of her brother, but if he’d been lured into a trap, it was because he’d wanted to be.

He knew then that he was already in love with her.

Chen said nothing as the realization took awful root in his chest. River hadn’t seduced him. He was in love with her before he ever saw her. He had come here with his soul open, waiting for the sight and shape of her to lock into its rightful place in his heart.

He fought hard not to let his emotions show as he led River to the basin and guided her hand under the water. A small welt had formed over her fingers and the skin was red, but it wasn’t all that bad. Still, he held onto her wrist beneath the cool water.

“It—it’s better now,” she said.

Her voice curled around his heart and stole his breath. He released her, going both hot and cold at once. The inevitable confrontation with Ru Shan would tear out Chen’s soul and leave him gutted. It would be like falling on his own blade—but nothing so clean and quick.

“Your plan would have worked better if you had put a knife in me while I was sleeping,” he muttered.

River made a show of scraping at the pot, her back turned to him. “My kitchen skills are quite lacking. I know less about knives than I do about cooking.”

The conversation dwindled away, but Chen found it hard to leave the kitchen. Other than the pain twisting like a blade in his gut, nothing had changed. He still needed to bring Ru Shan to justice. Yet he had another duty to protect River. Not only because they had been promised to each other in an arranged marriage by her brother. River belonged to him. She’d given herself to him and he’d accepted. Which meant he belonged to her as well.

If she ever realized that, then he would truly be lost.

He retrieved more wood for the stove while River started another batch of rice. Together they scrounged the kitchen for odds and ends: cold dumplings, some yams that were easy to boil, salted duck eggs. This time the rice was mushy, but at least edible. They piled everything onto a tray and went to sit at the same table where River had presented him with a feast the night before. A feast neither of them had been able to enjoy.

Chen positioned himself with the tray between them. River selected a dumpling with her chopsticks and bit carefully into it. He watched her eat, his heart growing heavier with each passing moment. She was wearing the somber robe he’d first seen her in with the collar closed high over her neck. There was no need to tempt him any longer.