Barbara Faith - Kiss of the dragon

by mag

  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 o
f 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.

  Bethany's body rose to his. Her hands tightened on his shoulders. She was lost in the arms that held her, in the lips that kissed her, in the body that possessed her, and that she too possessed.

  When she cried his name he breathed in the sweetly desperate words of her fulfillment as his own body exploded, carrying him higher and higher as, with fevered words, he told her how he loved her.

  Later, after they had showered together, Tiger gave her the package that he'd placed on the bed. Inside was a cheongsam, a Chinese dress of rose-pink satin. Peacocks in vivid shades of blue were intricately embroidered onto the material.

  "It's beautiful," Bethany said in a breathless voice.

  "Wear it tonight."

  The satin was smooth against her fingers. She looked at Tiger. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you, darling."

  The dress fitted as though it had been made especially for her, molding her breasts and her hips, coming just below her knees. She fastened the buttons high on the mandarin collar, stepped into her high-heeled pumps, and turned around so that Tiger could look at her.

  He took one step forward, but he didn't touch her. "You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen," he said in a hushed voice. Then he watched as she brushed the golden hair back from her face and fastened pearl drop earrings in her ears.

  Again Tiger felt the beating of his heart against his ribs. But this time it beat without passion; it beat with an intensity of love that shook him to the very depths of his soul.

  But he did not speak of his love as he took Bethany's arm and led her down the curved marble stairs to the dining room. There he ordered swallow's nest soup, vegetables in black bean sauce, chinjew chicken, and moon cakes for dessert. And all the while his mind returned to Bethany—his love.

  Chapter 9

  The home of Madame Su Ching was in the European section of Tsingyun. When the pedicab stopped in front of it Tiger said, "Usually a home this size is divided into several apartments, but because of my mother's old family connections she has been allowed to keep her home the way it is."

  Bethany looked at the tree-lined street, so different from the other parts of the city that she and Tiger had just driven through. There had been small homes, tar paper shacks, Buddahs of every size, green-roofed temples and five-tiered pagodas. Hundreds of people had crowded the busy streets where bicycle bells drowned out every human sound. But here it was different. This street, this house, exuded a quiet, old-world elegance.

  "Come, we'll go in," Tiger said. "I'm sure my mother is waiting."

  Nervously Bethany smoothed the skirt of the tailored blue dress she'd worn for traveling. Chang's words about Tiger's mother being a formidable woman came back to her. If Madame Su Ching hadn't approved of poor Lee Tung, how would she feel about her son bringing a strange American woman to her home?

  The door was opened by a servant woman. Scarcely five feet tall, the woman looked up at Tiger through eyes crinkled with age.

  "Ni hau?" she said. "How are you, honorable sir?"

  Tiger bowed. "I am well, Mai Ling," he said in Chinese. "This is Miss Bethany Adams. Is my mother at home?"

  "She is waiting for you, sir." The old woman bowed as her eyes flicked over Bethany in curious appraisal.

  The corridor Mai Ling led them into was clean, and cool, the beamed wooden floor polished to a high gleam. When she came to an ornately carved door she paused, then sliding the door open bowed and stood aside so they could enter.

  Silk hangings decorated one wall. A five-panel screen, brilliantly designed in startling colors of red and gold, green and fuchsia, stood beside a cherry wood desk. Chinese chairs, carved with intertwining dragons, were placed around the room. Scarlet peonies in a lacquer bowl bloomed from an ebony table in-layed with mother-of-pearl. At the far end of the room, next to a stone fireplace, there was a red velvet sofa. As Bethany and Tiger crossed the floor a woman rose to greet them.

  Su Ching's face seemed carved of pure, unblemished ivory. Her black hair was pulled back from her face into a chignon, and her dark eyes, fringed with long black lashes, framed by pencil-thin eyebrows, were almond shaped. She was quite tall and as slender as a girl. She wore a black cheongsam, black silk stockings and high-heeled black pumps. She was, Bethany thought, a strikingly handsome woman.

  "Mother!" Tiger reached her in three long strides. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "You're more beautiful than ever," he said in English as he held her away from him. "I have missed you."

  "As I have missed you, Tiger." A pale hand caressed his face. "It has been much too long. I hope you have come for a long visit." Her glance slid to Bethany. "I see you have brought a friend." Her voice grew hushed. "How nice."

  "Bethany." Tiger held out his hand, motioning her forward. "Mother, this is Bethany Adams. I'm sure you remember her father, Ross Adams, Father's friend."

  A momentary frown marred the smooth forehead before Su Ching held out her hand. On one manicured finger there was the largest jade ring Bethany had ever seen. "Yes, of course I remember Ross," she said in a liitingly musical voice. "How do you do, Miss Adams. Did your father accompany you to China?"

  "No, Madame Ching. My father died several months ago."

  The delicate eyebrows rose. "Oh? I'm so sorry." She motioned to one of the carved chairs. "Please sit down."

  Bethany sat quietly while Madame Ching talked to her son.

  "I was surprised to receive your telegram," Su Ching said to Tiger. "I could not imagine whom you were bringing with you." Her gaze flicked to Bethany. "I hope you'll find the room I have prepared for you comfortable, Miss Adams."

  "I'm sure I will. I hope I'm not putting you out."

  "Of course not." Su Ching looked up as the door opened and Mai Ling entered, followed by a manservant carrying a silver tray. "I thought you might enjoy a cup of tea after your journey, Miss Adams." Before Bethany could answer Su Ching turned to Tiger. "You flew to Canton?" she asked.

  "No, mother, we came by boat."

  "By boat? But that must have taken days. Why in the world would you do that?"

  "I hadn't ever taken The Dragon on a real cruise. This seemed like a good opportunity. We docked on the Po On Peninsula. Chang stayed with the boat."

  "And Lee Tung?"

  Tiger hesitated. "Lee remained behind on one of the islands we put in to."

  "I see." Su Ching's face looked puzzled as she poured the green tea and handed a cup to Bethany. "How long can you stay in Tsingyun, Tiger?"

  "I'm going to leave in a few days, Mother. But if it is all right with you, Bethany will stay here."

  Again the eyebrows rose. Carefully Su Ching put her teacup back on the saucer. "Are you here on business then?"

  "Yes, Mother, but perhaps we can discuss it later."

  She appraised him with her black almond eyes and seemed about to speak. Then changing her mind she took another sip of her tea. When she had finished it she turned to Bethany, and ringing a small brass bell on the ebony table next to her chair said, "I'm sure you are tired, Miss Adams. I will have Mai Ling show you to your room."

  Bethany looked at Tiger, then away. "Thank you," she said, knowing she'd been dismissed. "Yes, I am tired."

  He stood up as Mai Ling came into the room. Taking Bethany's hand he said, "I will see you later."

  "We dress for dinner, Miss Adams." Su Ching's voice was cool. "And we eat promptly at seven-thirty."

  Bethany's lips tightened. Barely resisting the impulse to bow, she forced a smile to her lips, and with a brief nod followed the elderly servant out to the corridor.

  They climbed a curving
staircase. Silently they went down a long hall, past closed doors. When at last the old woman opened one of the doors, she motioned Bethany to enter, said something in Chinese, and bowed herself out.

  A large bed dominated the room. It was covered by a heavy red and gold brocade spread that matched the draperies hanging from the floor to ceiling windows. There was a lacquer bedside table, a writing desk, a chair. At one end of the room there was a cherry wood armoire and when Bethany opened it she saw that her dresses had been hung and her other clothes and shoes neatly arranged on the shelves.

  With a sigh she went to the windows and pulling back the curtains looked down on the courtyard below. It was a small yard, made lovely by blooming apricot trees and a circle of pink and red tulips. When Bethany opened the window the scent of apricot blossoms drifted up to her. Her hand tightened on the curtain. She didn't know what she'd expected Tiger's mother to be like, but she hadn't expected the cold and haughty woman who had greeted her. She wouldn't stay here; when Tiger left she would leave with him.

  Resolutely Bethany turned away from the window. After she had undressed and bathed in the claw-footed tub in the adjoining bathroom, Bethany lay down to think. For a while, she'd been able to believe that she and Tiger were only a man and woman who had fallen in love with each other. Now, here in his mother's house, Bethany was reminded that they were from two disparate worlds. He was East, she was West. It was obvious that his mother would never accept her.

  At seven o'clock Bethany rose and went to the armoire. She looked at the lovely cheongsam that Tiger had given her and knew that it would be more than acceptable. But with a frown she put it back in the closet. It seemed to her that it was necessary to make a statement. She was not Chinese, she was an American, and tonight she would look like an American.

  At twenty-five after seven, dressed in a lemon-yellow sheath, and high-heeled sandals Bethany descended the stairway. She paused with her hand on the carved newel post, gazing through the open doors to her right into the dining room. From the glow of candelabra she saw that the room was empty. For a moment she hesitated, uncertain. Then from above Tiger said, "There you are. I didn't know where Mother had put you so I knocked at several doors." He quickly came down the stairs, dressed in dark trousers, a white silk shirt, and a brocade dinner jacket. His eyes took in the blond hair fluffed about her face, and taking her hand he brought it to his lips. "You're beautiful, Bethany."