White Tigress (30 page)

And then Ru Shan spoke, his tones low and hard. "What lie did you tell her to bring her here?"

Max stiffened, drawing himself upright. "Now see here—" he began, but Ru Shan interrupted.

"What lie did you tell her?"

"I did not—"

"Of course you did," Lydia interrupted. She was still finding it hard to breathe, and yet her voice came out clipped and angry. "You said we were to be married."

Max grimaced. "I said
you
were going to get married." His voice turned high and wheedling. "It's what you want, Lydia. Marriage. Dress-making. Everything. He'll treat you well. Some curse or something."

The priest began to exclaim, but all Lydia heard was noise. She knew he was chastising Max, loudly defending her honor and expressing outrage at Max's perfidy. At one time, she would have relished the moment. Indeed, after last night, she'd dreamed of such a moment when someone punished Max for hurting her.

And yet, right now, she barely heard. Her eyes, her ears, indeed her entire body, seemed tuned to Ru Shan. To his dark eyes and tightened lips.

"Do you understand how unworthy he is?" he asked in Chinese. "That your intended has..." His words faltered as he obviously struggled for the right words.

"The morals of a monkey?" she finished for him in English.

Ru Shan nodded, bowing slightly.

"Yes," she said sadly, because she
was
sad. "I understand Max's unworthiness." And so too did she understand that all the hopes and dreams she'd had leaving England were equally absent. They'd been lost the moment she stepped off the boat.

Her former fiancé was beginning to sputter angry words of denial, self-defense, and outrage. Lydia waved him off in weary dismissal.

"Go away, Max. We are hurting each other, and I can't bear any more." Except part of her was still a young, idealistic English girl who wanted him to fall to his knees begging forgiveness. He didn't, of course. He sighed, the sound coming from deep inside.

"I know it hurts, Lydia. We've been friends all our lives." He shook his head. "Shanghai changes a person, you know. I'm not that stupid boy from before, happy to have his mum pick his bride. You've changed even more than I" He glanced as Ru Shan. "You're getting married, Lydia. And you get to be a dressmaker. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Lydia blinked away tears, wondering what would become of her. Could this really and truly be happening?

Then he said one last thing, one parting shot that crushed the last of her silly, romantic dreams.

"It would never really work between us, Lyds. You're just not English enough anymore."

Lydia gaped, her mind reeling, her body going mercifully numb. What did he mean, not English? Of course she was English! But she didn't have a chance to ask him; he was already leaving, his footsteps a heavy echoing sound, and she would be damned if she ran after him. If nothing else, at least she had her pride.

But what did he mean? Not English enough?

"Why do you worry about a monkey's howl?" asked Ru Shan, his gentle tones interrupting her thoughts.

Her gaze was still on the door that slipped closed behind Max, but her thoughts went to Ru Shan. Eventually, her gaze found him as well. Why
did
she worry about what Max said?

"Because he represents England," she said, only just understanding the truth of her words. "What he believes is what everyone at home will believe. And what they will say." She swallowed, her eyes tearing. "And because he's right. I'm not a demure English girl anymore, am I?" Her eyes shifted to the priest, a sandy-haired man in his fifties with gentle green eyes. Her knees were threatening to buckle, and she must have swayed because both men grabbed hold of her, one on each arm. They slowly led her to sit in a pew.

"You are still English," said the priest, his high voice sounding melodic. "But you are in Shanghai now, and that has changed you."

"I can't go back to being her, can I? The girl I was before I arrived."

"Of course not," said the priest, but it was Ru Shan who asked the right question.

"Do you want to? Do you want to be her again?"

She remained silent a moment, her thoughts slipping gently from one memory to the next, one image to another without rhyme or reason: her childhood with her family, her father's funeral, Maxwell as a boy, Maxwell as a man. Maxwell in Shanghai. The boat. The brothel. Ru Shan.

In the end, that was the memory that remained. Ru Shan's calm presence as he began to instruct her in the ways of his religion.

"No," she said without realizing she was speaking. "No, I do not want to go backward." Then she glanced up at the altar, at the very solid mission, built in a simple, European design. It was dusty and dark; enclosed and very, very Caucasian; nothing like the Chinese buildings with carvings and colors everywhere you looked. Their swooping lines and quiet elegance fit Shanghai, whereas the European designs did not.

"I am like this building—an English design in a foreign place." She shook her head. "I'm impractical and ugly."

"Not ugly," Ru Shan countered. "Merely different. And you can adapt." Then he stood, bowing at the waist before her. "As can I," he said as he straightened. "Lydia, I wish to marry you."

She was so startled by his statement that she laughed. A nervous giggle bubbled out of her, then was quickly silenced. Ru Shan did not comment. He merely gazed at her with dark, fathomless eyes. Then he took a breath, preparing to speak, but she stopped him. She held up her hand and shook her head.

"No, Ru Shan. Don't. Not yet." And then, while the two men watched her, she walked slowly off. She had no idea where she was going, but was not surprised when she ended up before the altar. She looked at it. At the cross and the candles. At the wood beams and the square building they supported. Finally she turned to Ru Shan. "Yes, I am like this building," she said loudly. "I am solid. Sturdy. I was raised to be a good wife to an Englishman, with room for love and beauty, children, and a future. I am Christian"—she gestured to the cross—"and I am serviceable."

And empty? she wondered. Was she empty, too? Built only for someone else to fill?

She stepped forward, silencing those thoughts as she moved back to Ru Shan. "I do not know how to cook Chinese foods or be a Chinese wife. I do not know your Taoist ways, though," she added slowly, "I am interested in learning." She gestured to the room about her. "But you do not want this."

Ru Shan had not moved except for his eyes. He had watched her wander and now watched her face with the steady focus she had always found so appealing. He tilted his head, frowning in the way of a man who cannot understand why his broken clock will not tell time.

"The first thing we Taoists learn is not to tell others what to believe, what to do, or how to act. So long as your journey does not impede my own, why would I tell you not to pursue your heart?"

Her eyes welled with tears at his words. "Ru Shan, my heart is lost. It does not know what it wants or where it will go." She looked about, her eyes landing on the priest, then skittering beyond him to the door and, in her mind, all the way to England. But then she turned away. She could not even decide which part of the world she wished to live in.

Ru Shan stepped closer. "Then perhaps I shall tell you what I guess of your heart." She had not realized he was so close until she felt his hands gently lift hers. "You wish to design clothing, yes? It was the first thing you asked of me—"

"No, it wasn't," she interrupted. "The first thing I asked for was my freedom."

He nodded, and through their joined hands, she felt his body tighten. Why? Did he feel ashamed? Angry?

"I was wrong, Lydia," he said slowly. Deeply. Then he lifted her hands, drawing them up to his lips, kissing them each. "I bought a pet only to discover a soul. I drew out her yin, only to find it tainted. I believed she was at fault, only to find the defect in me." He looked into her eyes. "If this building is you, then what am I? A shack in the mountains? My store within Shanghai? If you are lost, then I am equally misplaced. Can we not find our way home together?"

She swallowed, moved by his words. "But what if our home is not in the same place?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "China is a large, large country. Surely there will be someplace here for you."

She felt her lips curve into a slight smile. "And what of you?"

"My happiness will be in the bed you make for me, with the food you cook for me." His eyes began to glimmer with humor as well. "With the clothes you design for me."

"You want me to work in your shop?"

He nodded. "Isn't that your wish as well?"

She echoed the movement, though more slowly. "Of all the things we have talked about, that is the one thing I understand the most."

"You will marry me, then?"

She hesitated, unsure if she could make the leap as easily as he did. Then he spoke, showing that he understood her fear.

"In China, you will have more respect as a wife who designs clothing for her husband's business than as a woman alone who works as a designer." He reached out, cupped her face. "And I thought you were built for children as well. Did you not wish for that?"

She nodded, finding another thing of which she was certain.

"As a designer alone, you will not find a respectable man. Not in China."

"And not in England either," she concurred.

Ru Shan leaned forward, nearly touching her lips. "I wish you to be respectable, Lydia." Then, for the first time ever, he pressed his mouth to hers. His touch was gentle, his lips amazingly warm. They heated her chilled body. He did not push his attentions, merely let her accustom herself to them. And in time, she molded to him; she brushed her lips across his.

In a most calm and seductive manner, he extended his tongue, using it to trace the curve of her lips, the ever-widening seam between them, and then finally, the opening within. She tried to remain detached, to analyze the feelings within her. Did she want this man as her husband? After everything he had done? After all they had done together? Could she make a home with this man and honor him as she would a husband?

She tried to think of these things as they kissed, but all too soon her thoughts slipped away. Her mind—or as much intellect as remained—could only understand that Ru Shan was kissing her. Ru Shan was holding her. Ru Shan's tongue was touching her—deeply, intimately, and completely. And now that she was no longer forced into these acts, she found she did enjoy them. With him.

So much so, she was the one who pushed for closer contact. She pressed her body to his, let her hands slip around his neck, pressed her pelvis against him, seeking his jade dragon. It was he who pulled back, remaining controlled when she had lost all sense of propriety. He remained solidly himself while she seemed to melt, trying to form herself around him.

And was that not the essence of being a wife? To form yourself around your man, to support his efforts, to bear his children, to be his helpmeet?

Yes, of course it was. And so, at that moment, she decided she would marry him. Provided...

She straightened, looking about her at the very Christian building that surrounded them. "Ru Shan," she began softly, her voice gaining strength as she found the words to shape her thought. "I want to learn more about your religion, but I was raised Christian. I cannot simply abandon it for you." She gestured to the cross upon the altar. "That means something to me. Something important."

He bowed, his head dropping low, almost to the level of her waist. When he straightened, he smiled. "Lydia, do you not understand that there are many Christian Taoists? To walk the middle path does not mean you must leave behind your Jesus." He frowned, obviously searching for the English words. In the end, it was the priest who spoke.

"Taoism," said the priest, "is a philosophy, Lydia. Not a religion. It is simply a way of searching for God."

Beside her, Ru Shan nodded. "We seek the Immortals. If you find Jesus there, then I shall be in awe of you for attaining what I have not."

She frowned, trying to understand his words. "I can still worship? I can go to church on Sunday, pray to Christ, and observe my holidays?"

"Of course," answered Ru Shan.

"And perhaps," added the priest, "you could teach him of Jesus. Of our beliefs, and he will come pray with you."

She looked to the priest for confirmation. "And there is no conflict between Christianity and Taoism?"

"Perhaps that is something you can assure me," he added with a smile. "But as far as I have seen, the middle path, as they call it, is what we would call a temperate, chaste way of life."

"Chaste?" she almost squeaked out the word. There was nothing chaste in what she and Ru Shan had done.

"The Taoists I know are very solid and moral people. They only lack a name for their Immortal. They only need the education to call him Jesus."

Lydia hesitated, wondering if she could trust this priest. Surely he knew more about such matters than she did. And, in general, Ru Shan did seem to be an upstanding citizen. Except in the purchase of a woman pet. Except that he practiced yin harvesting. Except that what they had done...