The Dragon Earl

by Jade Lee

  "What happened?" his grandmother asked.

  Evelyn had no answers. "He fell and knocked over that powder," she said. She didn't mention the way he had looked at himself in the mirror as if he'd stared at death itself.

  "It's everywhere," added the reverend, brushing ineffec­tively at the dressing table.

  Evelyn came to a quick decision. "Please, Reverend," she said. "Please go find his friend Zhi Min and bring him here. As discreetly as possible," she added with a wince. There was nothing discreet about anything that involved the reverend, but at least he wouldn't be here gathering more fodder for gossip.

  The man nodded sagely. "Excellent notion. I'll go straight­away." Then he left without fanfare.

  The dowager countess meanwhile dispatched her servants for water and a washcloth. If they could do nothing else, Eve­lyn supposed, they could clean the powder away. Once all the servants had been dispatched, the elderly woman knelt in front of her. "Tell me it all," she ordered sternly. "What happened?"

  Evelyn looked down and stroked Jie Ke's hair back off his brow. His body still shook in her arms, but he no longer seemed to be screaming. At least, not on the outside. He had the look of a man who had been living a nightmare all his life—or, more likely, since that awful massacre two decades earlier.

  "He remembered something, I think," she finally said.

  "That awful place," his grandmother snapped. "I told his fa­ther over and over that he had no business taking the family out there. No business at all." She wiped at her eyes, then placed a hand on her grandson's shoulder. "What that boy must have seen." She abruptly straightened. "But that's all over now. He is back in England where he belongs."

  "I don't think so," Evelyn murmured, finally giving voice to something she was only now beginning to understand. "That's what we were arguing about before." She tightened her hold on him. Jie Ke wasn't aware of her, obviously still trapped in his own nightmare, but it gave her comfort to cra­dle him in her arms. "He's not really English anymore."

  "Well, he's certainly not Chinese!" the woman snapped.

  Evelyn nodded. "That's the problem, I think. He doesn't really know who he is. An earl without a tide, a monk who isn't fully . . . ordained." She didn't know the real word for what he wanted, but that would have to do. She leaned down and pressed her lips to his temple. "Jacob or Jie Ke," she mur­mured. "I don't care who you are. Just come back." She pressed her cheek to his. "Come back to me, please."

  The world was white ash as fine as the powder they put on their faces. Jacob stood in the middle of a blank landscape. One moment he thought he saw the rolling hills of England. The next, he saw the or­nate roof tiles of the temple. But then the wind blew powder in his eyes and he saw nothing.

  The landscape flattened, buried beneath the weight of all that powder. If there was sound, it was deadened. If there was scent, it was lost. Nothing existed here except for him. And he had been alone here for such a long, long time.

  A ripple shifted through the landscape. Like a circle on a pond of white, he saw the world change, a tiny fraction of movement until it was gone again. He found himself staring at the ground, focusing hard. Would it come again? Would he see the movement again?

  There! Life. Where there was movement, there was life. Or so he told himself. And he was so tired of sitting with the dead. But where was it?

  Beneath the surface! Something—someone—was below the ash. Someone was struggling there to breathe, to get out, to . . .

  He had no tool with which to dig, so he dropped to his knees and began shoving aside dust with his hands. Until now, he hadn't wanted to touch the stuff. He had hated the feel of it in his hair, the taste of it in his mouth, but not now. Now, someone's life was at stake. So he dug even as he sneezed and coughed and gasped.

  The rippling continued, more obvious now that he was digging. "Can you hear me?" he screamed. "Are you there?"

  He heard an answer. More important, he felt a response, but he couldn't make sense of it. His only choice was to keep digging as hard and as fast as possible. And the deeper he went, the more the landscape changed.

  First came the mounds of debris. Like charred bodies in gruesome display, they grew around him. It made no sense that ash and dust could form such ugly skeletons, but there they were, and he paused a moment to stare.

  They were his parents, he realized, and his sister. He looked at them and mourned, but they were gone and someone was alive be­neath. So he turned away from them and dug, and the landscape changed again.

  The winds blew hot and dry like the summers in China. The ash whispered away, but the ground remained brown and parched. His mouth ached for something to drink. To the side, a lake of cool water appeared. He heard the splash of boys at play and turned to see cranes stepping delicately through the water, searching for fish. He straightened, feeling bizarrely unsettled by the sight. Water, play— and Zhi Min was smiling at him from his place of contemplation just beyond the near rushes.

  "Come help me!" he screamed to his friend. "Here! Under here!"

  Zhi Min didn't respond except to wave. He was too far away to hear, and Jacob would not waste the time to run to get him. His only hope was that Zhi Min would see him digging and come help. So he dived back into the hole he'd created and continued to dig.

  It was quiet here, the air cool, and the smell of rich black dirt in­vaded his nostrils. Sheep, horse, even dog smells filled the air. En­gland, he realized with a slight laugh. He'd dug all the way to England, but where was the person beneath? Where was the move­ment?

  He stilled, listening hard. He heard his own heartbeat. He felt a warmth surround him. He felt filthy and exhausted, and grimaced at the bitter taste in his mouth. But where was the person beneath?

  He would have to do it. He would have to plunge himself all the way into this deepest, darkest pit he had dug. Only down there could he find the soul beneath the grime.

  He took a breath. He looked up to see the gray sky that was so fa­miliar. He heard the laughter of the children and the echoing gong of the temple. Then he straightened his spine—he was an earl after all and would show courage—and dove.

  He opened his eyes in his grandmother's bedroom and saw Evelyn, so beautiful and so perfect, with her arms wrapped around him. He blinked, trying to separate fact from fantasy. Had he been dreaming? It had seemed so real.

  "Jacob? Jie Ke?" she said, her hand stroking his temple.

  Evie, he thought. He hadn't breath to say her name. Evie was real. Her chest pressed tight against his, heart pounding, was real. Her arms supporting his head, her hands stroking his face, and her eyes—so blue, like his own—these things were real. She was real.

  Surging up, he kissed her. And in that moment, two things happened. First, the world righted itself. His mind focused on his senses: his lips pressed to hers, the scent of her skin, and the sound of her gasp just before she kissed him back as deeply and as possessively as he'd taken her.

  Second, came chaos. The room exploded with the sound of people and exclamations and Zhi Min speaking in his most formal tone: "So be it. I will miss you at the temple, my brother."

  Jacob tore himself away from Evelyn and forced his gaze to find that of his best friend. They looked at each other without words, communicating as they had often done in their morn­ing sparring matches, with a flick of an eye or the twitch of a hand. Today there was nothing more than a nod . . . but it was enough.

  Jacob would not be accepted at the temple, he now knew. He had never been right for a monastic life, and his place was here with Evelyn. It always had been. The message was un­derstood and accepted by both men, and it felt so desperately right to Jie Ke. Or it did until Evelyn suddenly shoved him backwards and away.

  He didn't fall. He had regained too much strength to fall flat on the ground, but he hadn't the power to keep her at his side. She pulled back from him, her eyes leaping between him and Zhi Min . . . and then to Christopher, who was just out­side the door.

  "No," she gasp
ed. "No, you don't understand," she said to the room at large. "He belongs in China. He's not an En­glishman anymore."

  "Don't be ridiculous," his grandmother exclaimed happily. "Of course he is! He's the earl!"

  Chapter Twenty

  Evelyn could not bear to look at Jie Ke. The pain in his eyes overwhelmed her. It made her want to help him—to dare anything—if only the agony in his eyes faded. It made her want to be bold, but she couldn't do that. So she turned her gaze aside.

  Yet she didn't release him. They were still touching—his arm was across her lap, her hands on his shoulders. She held him, she knew him, and she wondered if life would ever re­turn to some level of normalcy.

  In that instant, Christopher pushed into the room. He shouldered his way in, his gaze cutting across the tableau be­fore him. Evelyn knew what he saw: his fiancée holding his cousin and rival. The shock at her final betrayal was stark on his face, but it swiftly shifted to an angry glower. It was an ex­pression she had seen more and more of in the last few days.

  "What's the meaning of this?" he demanded.

  "Calm yourself, Christopher," she said smoothly. How eas­ily she slipped into her intended role of future countess. "Ja­cob fell. I was merely helping him up." It was a thinly veiled he. Anyone with eyes could see that she was doing a great deal more than helping Jacob stand. In fact, at the moment, she was holding on to him like a child with a favorite toy. Or a woman protecting a lover.

  "I am well enough now," Jacob said softly. He slowly, stiffly, disentangled himself from her. It was no more than she deserved. She had just disavowed him, and yet the pain of it cut through her heart so deeply that she momentarily lost her breath. And in that gasping pain, she lost her grip on him.

  Jacob rolled away, gaining his feet in one smooth motion. She watched him stand, noting that there was no hesitation in the movement, no sign of injury either physical or mental. In fact, he seemed more directed, more focused than she'd ever seen him.

  "So, you have it all," Jacob said softly. "My title, money, even my bride."

  Christopher stepped more fully into the room, his eyes narrowing, his hands tightening into fists. "I have nothing that is not rightfully mine."

  Jacob laughed, the sound bitter and angry. "You still deny it? You still can look me in the eye and pretend that I am not Jacob? I am your cousin. We once were friends!"

  Christopher shook his head. "You are a liar and a fraud. You have done nothing but confirm that opinion."

  "You are blind, Christopher. A fool who sees nothing but what he is told to see." Then Jie Ke glanced over at Evelyn. She had been slowly gaining her feet, but his gaze froze her in place—not because it was cold or angry, but because it was filled with admiration and love. "Enjoy her while you can, cousin," he said softly. "She has taken the first steps to becom­ing her true self. She will not be ruled by your emptiness for much longer."

  The blow was struck too fast for her to see. One moment, Jacob was looking at her with such tenderness, the next, his face was slammed aside and his blood splattered her clothing. She cried out in alarm, instinctively stepping forward to steady Jacob, but he didn't need her. Instead, his bloodied lips split into a slow grin.

  "Are we to fight then, Chris? Do you think she will be im­pressed and choose—"

  More blows flew at him, but this time Chris aimed for Jie Ke's injured ribs. Jie Ke blocked them, his arms as fast as his at­tacker's, but she knew how the effort cost him. Though no blow connected, the force of each impact echoed in the room.

  "You have no right to even look at her!" Chris bellowed. "She is mine!"

  Jie Ke laughed at that, though the sound was strained. "Do you truly believe you can own anything, much less Evelyn?"

  The words clearly enraged Chris. He attacked with a fury that seemed to explode through the room. Jie Ke was hard-pressed. The room was narrow and filled with furniture, not to mention the people who crowded forward, all speaking at once.

  Evelyn didn't hear any of them. All she saw was the steady rain of fists from Chris. All she heard was the echoing smack as Jie Ke blocked blow after blow. Jie Ke's breath was becom­ing more labored, and she saw grimaces of pain flash through his features.

  "Stop it!" she said, her voice becoming more commanding with each word. "Christopher, he's hurt. Stop this now!"

  No effect. If anything, Christopher attacked with more fe­rocity.

  "You are losing her," Jie Ke said. "She already sees you for a lout!"

  "You're taunting him!" Evelyn cried. "What the hell are you thinking?"

  Jie Ke didn't answer, for the fight got uglier. At first there had been controlled and forceful blows, steadily blocked. Now Christopher attacked with a wild anger, and Jie Ke fought back with equal ferocity. Blow after blow was exchanged, with neither man gaining ground. Except, something was different. Evelyn had seen Jie Ke fight. Not only the time in the ring, but the morning before with Zhi Min—not to men­tion when he had single-handedly held off Christopher, Chris's brothers, and the reverend. Why wasn't he finishing this travesty?

  She stepped closer, seeing the mounting darkness in both men's faces. "Stop it!" she cried again. "Jie Ke, end this now!"

  Timing her interference as best she could, she tried to reach into the fight. Both men flinched away with hardly a break in their rhythm. She wasn't touched, but neither did she change anything.

  "Damn it, Jacob! End this!"

  "See him," he grunted between blows. "See him clearly."

  She looked at Christopher and saw the vicious anger that poured out of her onetime fiancé. But the same primal fury surrounded Jie Ke as well. She had always known he had this darkness in him, but never had she seen it so clearly displayed. It was there—raw and ugly—and he still didn't end the fight.

  Only one person could end this, and it obviously wasn't ei­ther of the two men. With a muttered curse, Evelyn gathered her skirts and dove forward. It was ridiculously stupid, like stepping in the middle of a dogfight, but she knew it would work. Both men loved her, and she would see them stop fighting each other.

  She tensed, expecting the blows that were sure to land. She'd leapt toward their fists, thinking to knock them both aside. She managed in beautiful style, spinning both men aside while her arm took the brunt of the impact.

  Jie Ke was sure-footed. As she pushed in, he'd spun around, moving with her momentum so that she fell forward and he didn't lose position or footing. Christopher was not so skilled. She'd shoved his left arm aside, but the right shot forward. He'd been aiming at Jie Ke's face, but now his fist headed straight for her.

  Jie Ke was faster. While she fell to the ground between them, Jie Ke caught Christopher's fist in his open palm.

  "Are you mad?" screamed the reverend from the side.

  "Furious!" she snapped. Her two suitors stood frozen above her, their eyes narrowed, their bodies taut with leashed fury. She glared at them both, then quickly made her decision. She slowly, deliberately stood up between the two men. Then she planted both palms on their chests and pushed outward.

  They didn't move, and with a grimace of disgust, she pulled back, curling her fingers like daggers, then she shoved, nails first and with all her strength, against their chests.

  This time they moved backwards, though perhaps they were only humoring her. Each man kept his gaze locked on the other.

  "Are you both idiots? Do you think this impresses me?"

  She could hardly believe that these two men were fighting over her. In some ways it was the stuff of every girl's roman­tic dreams, but right now it wholly disgusted her.

  "I love you both!" she cried. "Do you think I want to see you kill each other? Bloody hell, how stupid are you?"

  Christopher flinched, his fist twitching in Jie Ke's grip. "You love him?"

  Jie Ke didn't say anything, but she saw hope spark in his eyes. She shook her head to clear it, putting a hand on each man's extended arm and pushing them apart. Eventually fist and palm separated, and both men dropped the
ir hands.

  "You are like two little boys fighting over a toy," she growled. She turned to Christopher. "Where have you been? Two days ago you went to speak to your mother. The next thing I know you are gone without a word. Where did you go? And why are you back? Why are you here?"

  Christopher blanched and then glanced at the other people in the room. "Perhaps this is best discussed elsewhere."

  She snorted. "You didn't think about the other people when you burst in here." She stepped forward, trying to feel what she once had for this man. She took his hands and held them up. "Can you not be honest with me?"

  He looked down at her, his lips tight and his fingers strong. "This is a family discussion," he stressed.

  She nodded, her suspicions confirmed. "So you know now. You know he is the true earl."

  His gaze jumped from her to Jie Ke and then back. She could see the panic in his eyes, and a terror that went all the way through his body. "I know no such thing," he said stiffly. "But we can certainly discuss the possibility at a more seemly time."

  She touched his face, the truth at last clear to her. "Does England only breed cowards?" she murmured, thinking of herself as much as him.

  His eyes widened and his head jerked so that he looked away from her. "You go too far!" he growled.

  She blinked, her thoughts coming back to the present. "I didn't mean you, Chris. Not really. I meant me." She shook her head. "Jie Ke says that monks see the truth with clarity. And they search for a better answer when one fails." She sighed. "I am not a future countess," she said finally. "Not like you want. I think I pretended for so long that I didn't believe I could be anything else." She lifted her chin, feeling strength come with the movement. "But I can be something else. I can find a better answer."

  She started to turn away from him, but Christopher grabbed her arm, holding her still. "Find a better answer? What does that even mean, Evie? You think I've failed you?"