An Illicit Temptation (4 page)

Chapter Four

No matter how far they fled, Dao could still feel
danger chasing them. She had grown up as a household servant in a wealthy
section of the city. She’d polished furniture and haggled for good prices on
chickens at the market. The only place she’d seen a bow drawn was at the archery
park.

They rode for hours before stopping when the sky faded to red
and gold. The land had once again flattened out into wide expanses of wild
grass. Kwan-Li did one final scan of the horizon in every direction before
setting up camp. He started a fire and broke off a chunk of a tea brick into a
pot of water.

“They won’t harm you,” he said when she looked over her
shoulder warily.

“How do you know that?”

“You are the Emperor’s niece and an imperial princess.”

“Not out here. Bandits don’t care who we are,” she argued.

He fell silent, a frown creasing his brow as the tea brewed.
After a few minutes, he handed her a cup filled with steaming liquid.

“Those were not bandits,” he said. “They were from another
tribe and they wanted to keep us from reaching the capital.”

He sounded calm now. Deadly calm.

“What about your tribesmen? What about Ruan?”

“Ruan has survived much worse. Now drink, Princess.” Kwan-Li
had to close his hands around hers to get her to grip the cup. “You will feel
better.”

“Does it have mare’s milk in it?” she asked after a pause.

He laughed. It was brief, but it was a laugh. The touch of his
hands was also brief, but they were warm and strong and did more to reassure her
than anything else.

“You said the men were Khitan,” she began.

“I couldn’t tell which clan they were from, but none of the
tribes would dare raise a hand against you. The wrath of the Tang imperial army
would be too great.”

His jaw clenched and he radiated a low, simmering anger. The
warrior in him had come out in battle and it remained. Dao could sense the
change in every part of him. She had been so naive. This wasn’t a grand
adventure to an exotic land. Being a princess meant more than wearing silk and
having servants attend to her every need. It meant being caught in politics and
power struggles. Things she knew nothing about.

She sipped at the tea. It was bitter, yet fortifying. “Is there
always such fighting among the tribes?”

“There have always been disagreements.”

She thought for a long time. “Khitan is a dangerous place.”

His eyes darkened at the statement. “No more treacherous than
your imperial court.”

At that moment, Dao felt like she didn’t know anything about
anything. Neither the dangers of Khitan, nor the imperial court. In her
innocence, she believed that it was an honor to be selected to be an alliance
bride. Her half sister had the good sense to flee.

Kwan-Li was watching her carefully. “You regret coming
here.”

It was too late for that now. “I won’t be writing any laments
about being married to the other side of heaven, if that’s what you’re
wondering.”

Again, the half smile. “I did not think you would.”

The poetry of the frontier was always filled with homesickness
and sorrow, but Dao hadn’t come all this way to wallow in misery. She was a
princess now.

“What do I need to know about the Khitan court?” she asked.

“There is conflict in any court,” he said roughly. “But the
princess will be protected at all times.”

Was he trying to protect her by keeping her in ignorance? Her
half brother had been the same way. When the family had been on the brink of
ruin, he’d tried to take all the troubles onto his own shoulders, thinking to
shield them from worry. But the entire household had always known. She couldn’t
remain ignorant if she wanted to survive.

“Tell me,” she insisted. “I’m to become the khagan’s wife,
after all. And you’ll no longer be with me.”

Kwan-Li gave her a hard look. She stared back with a harder
look. She won.

“The tribes of the south have lived among the Han, learned your
language, in many instances adopting your ways. Other clans have similarly
aligned themselves with the Uyghurs,” he continued. “For generations, the Khitan
have balanced themselves between these two enemies, trying to appease both
sides. The Tang court withdrew support when we became vassals of the Uyghurs,
but within the last few years our clan has once again paid tribute to the
Emperor to reestablish relations.”

She thought of Kwan-Li who had been sent to the capital to be
educated. “Your clan would rather be allied with the Tang Emperor.”

“I would rather we were our own masters.”

There was so much pride and conviction behind that
statement.

“You risked your life for the sake of this alliance today,” she
said.

“No.” His gaze burned into her. “I did what I did for you.”

It would have been the same had he known she wasn’t royalty.
She was certain. He called her princess and almost always did what she asked,
but she never thought of him as a servant.

“I’m very grateful,” she said, feeling the words were
inadequate. “For all that you’ve done for me.”

His only answer was a brief nod before he went to tend to the
pot that simmered over the fire. It wasn’t the first time she regretted how the
difference in their positions kept him at a distance.

The rest of the brew was used to cook up a thick gruel of tea
leaves and millet. They ate the simple meal in silence while she was aware of
his every movement beside her. Kwan-Li was a constant puzzle; scholar and
warrior. He was at ease with the silence as they watched the sun melt into the
horizon. This land suited him with its harsh beauty.

“The princess should rest,” he suggested finally. “I will
remain on guard.”

She started toward the tent, but paused as Kwan-Li scattered
dirt over the fire.

“It is unlikely we would be found out here, but the fire would
make us visible from afar in the darkness,” he explained.

They were down to a single sleeping tent as well as a limited
number of supplies. All he had for warmth was a wool blanket and the steppe
could become frigid once the sun was down.

“There’s enough room in the tent,” she offered.

He stared at her for a moment then looked away, shaking his
head. The corners of his mouth lifted wryly. “You are…very beautiful,
Princess.”

Their gazes locked. Blood rushed to her face and her heart was
suddenly beating too fast. She wasn’t so very beautiful. She doubted Kwan-Li
would have ever noticed her if he didn’t think she was a princess, but the way
that he said it was more than a compliment.

“I should go,” she said.

“Yes.”

Only in the shelter of the tent did she allow herself to
consider what was happening between them.

His words sounded like a warning…and like a promise. As if he
wouldn’t be able to resist her if tempted. Her heart pounded.

It was impossible not to have these thoughts. Kwan-Li was
young, strong and handsome and she was stranded on the endless steppe with him.
They were being pursued. Her future was clouded and she was a little frightened.
The khagan was old and…and nothing. She knew nothing else about her
husband-to-be.

Darkness descended and a lone wolf howled in the distance, but
no mate answered its call. Dao lay down on the rug and closed her eyes. Her
thoughts floated outside to where Kwan-Li remained in order to preserve her
honor. She realized that she did want very much to tempt him.

* * *

The sky was hanging onto the last orange threads of
daylight as the warmth from the fire ebbed away. Kwan-Li seated himself beside
the tent and prepared for a long night. Everything had changed. Nothing had
changed. It was still his duty to guide the princesssafely to the khagan. The
security and future of his clan rested upon it.

He could hear the rustle of movement from inside the tent.
There wasn’t a moment of the day where his body wasn’t acutely aware of her. The
princess wasn’t yet asleep. After a long moment, there was silence and Kwan-Li
stared at the empty horizon beyond. Anything to keep from looking at the tent
and thinking of what awaited inside. Loneliness overtook him, a loneliness that
came not from the starkness of the land, but from hovering between two
worlds.

Out here, there was an intimacy that could never be found
within the city. Two strangers meeting quickly became friends. A man and a woman
alone quickly became…

He had kissed her only once. That was all he’d ever have, yet
the soft press of her lips lingered with him. The open plain provided nothing to
distract him.

The princess was moving again. His heart lodged in his throat
even before the tent flap lifted. Her shadow slipped over him and her hands
settled lightly onto his shoulders. She was a fox-spirit in the moonlight.

“Princess,” he acknowledged.

He spoke with quiet forcefulness. She faltered when he made no
move toward her. Holding her breath, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, her
lips touching his almost fearfully. He let her go on and waited for her to lose
her resolve. It was almost cruel, except she was killing him as well.

Her mouth pulled away, but only to descend once again,
searching in a caress that was too sweet for what he truly wanted.

“Princess,” he said again, his voice husky.

He already knew he wouldn’t fight her. In a dark corner of his
heart, he’d known this moment was inevitable. There was no avoiding one another
when they were the only two souls around.

He gathered up her hair as she had done by the river and
pressed his mouth to her neck. He inhaled the scent of her skin as her pulse
throbbed beneath his touch. He wanted to use his tongue on her. His teeth on
her. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t want her.

An-Ming lifted a hand to his jaw. Her eyelashes fluttered
delicately against his cheek. “I didn’t want my first lover to be a stranger,”
she whispered.

She pressed against him and kissed him again, bolder this time.
He’d heard all sorts of stories in the palace about princesses who flaunted
authority, who took lovers without shame. He’d never thought it of this
princess, but it didn’t matter now.

They moved together, clinging to one another. He shoved the
canvas flap aside and the darkness of the tent closed over them. He untied his
sash and pulled his tunic open before reaching for An-Ming. He felt her touch
momentarily against his chest, pressing softly just above his heart.

More pulling and loosening of cloth. The moment’s delay
stretched on for too long before his hands were on bare skin, running up the
curve of a knee, the softness of her inner thigh. He parted her, stroking deep
with just his fingertips in that most sensitive place where heaven lay
waiting.

She gasped, her breath hitching on a sibilant cry that went
straight to his groin. Her legs curved naturally around his hips while her mouth
sought his. Every part of her body was urging him on. Commanding him. He
positioned himself, his organ hard against soft flesh, his mind a storm. He
thought fleetingly that she was a princess, that she was inexperienced…that he
had a duty. Then he was inside her.

She closed around him, hot and tight. He abandoned all other
thought in the wake of the dark pleasure. He began to move in slow, gradual
thrusts. An-Ming consumed him and he gave himself over to her. For the first
time in years, he no longer questioned where he belonged.

Chapter Five

Dao closed her eyes to concentrate on the feel of
Kwan-Li inside her. He was holding her, kissing her. His weight anchored her to
the rug. This first time taking another person into her body was…confusing. The
heat, the pressure. The feeling of being stretched and invaded. The longing. The
pain. The strange pleasure beneath it.

She was being taken. Undeniably so. His every movement radiated
through her. The coupling was rough and hungry and unapologetic. Yet when his
tongue touched hers, desire curled through her, making her want the things he
was doing to her even more.

Soon the pleasure outweighed the pain. Soon there was no more
telling what was what in the darkness. There was nothing but the harsh rhythm of
their breathing, his weight above her, and a feeling of being anchored and held
to the earth while the heavens spun around her.

She pressed her lips to his throat, feeling the pulse that
pounded there.

Dao was never one to be taken with romantic notions, but she
wanted this. She wanted this. Her body strained against him, becoming
single-minded with need.

His thrusts became more forceful. Kwan-Li was flying headlong
toward completion. The women gossiped in the servants’ quarters saying that this
was the usual way of the bedchamber. Fast. Urgent. Satisfactory for the man,
perhaps sometimes for the woman.

Kwan-Li took hold of her hips and shifted them. She was angled
up and against him. His hold on her was confident as he slid deeper, his
movement within her changing to assail her with a new rush of sensation. He was
pushing her to a peak, willing her climax. She ran her hands along the
sweat-slicked planes of his back, digging in to urge him on. Her back arched in
a plea for more. In that moment, she surrendered herself completely to him, yet
her body, this pleasure, was selfishly her own. She cried out into the darkness
as every muscle in her tightened and a flood of pleasure gripped her.

He continued thrusting into her as she convulsed around him.
Kwan-Li buried his face against her neck, his breath harsh with exertion. His
muscles clenched tight as he finally allowed himself his own release.

In the stillness afterward, he remained on top of her, heavy
and indolent. Their pulses combined in a mismatched rhythm. Dao ran her hand
over the contours of his back, appreciating the musculature beneath the warm
skin. The dusky light played delightfully over him. He was lean in build,
brimming with wiry strength. The years of living in the empire hadn’t softened
him.

He indulged her for only a little while longer before planting
a kiss against her shoulder and rising. She was left cold at his sudden
departure. The evening was upon them and the tent was dark, casting him in
shadow and hiding his face from her. The shuffle of cloth punctuated the
silence.

He was getting dressed.

Dao gathered her robe against her breasts and sat up, inhaling
sharply at the soreness between her legs. Was it only moments ago she was
clinging to Kwan-Li, crying out with his body hard inside her? Her face grew hot
at the memory. Now his movements were brusque.

Kwan-Li came back to her. His fingers brushed through her hair.
“I need to keep watch outside, Princess.”

The ambush. Not to mention the threat of wolves. All of that
had seemed far away while she was in his arms. She felt embarrassed for thinking
the worst of Kwan-Li when he had been nothing but loyal. Her doubts were not
about him, but about herself.

She was the one who had chosen this. Chosen him. She wasn’t
beguiled or seduced.

He held his hand at her nape as he kissed her, his touch
possessive, his mouth demanding. “Get some rest, but do get dressed. We may need
to leave quickly.”

By the time he left, she was warm and dizzy with all that had
just happened. Her forbidden lover was leaving her bed in the darkness of the
night. Her toes curled with the decadence of it.

She remained undressed, pulling the blanket over her to keep
the heat of their joining close for just a little longer. Outside, Kwan-Li was
watching over her, protecting her against whatever danger lurked out there on
the steppe, but soon he would be gone. And soon she would be married, exactly as
she had planned.

Despite her best efforts, the air grew cold around her. She sat
up and struggled back into her clothing, fumbling with the clasps in the
darkness. Quickly she lay back down and cocooned herself in the blanket, trying
hard to recapture the warmth. This was her stolen moment. She needed to hold on
to every detail.

In the years to come, she would come back to this small tent in
the middle of the wild grassland. She would remember the smell of Kwan-Li’s skin
and his weight above her. Even if the memory had faded, it would still belong to
her.

* * *

Dao was aware of a stream of sunlight and then a
presence moving beside her.

“Princess.” Kwan-Li’s voice tingled against her spine.

She opened one eye to the sight of him leaning over her. “Don’t
call me that,” she murmured.

“What should I call you then?” His gaze was warm as he tucked
back a strand of her hair. “Beautiful? Beloved?”

His fingertips following the curve of her ear in a caress that
made heat pool in her belly and her limbs go weak. She felt an alarming twinge
deep in her chest. It was easy to see why people did tragic and foolish things
for this. Nothing felt as warm and safe and perfect.

“Aren’t we still in danger?” she asked as he began undoing the
clasps along her side.

He smiled at her. “Only you, Princess.”

His knuckles brushed the underside of breast as he opened the
front of the
deel
. He parted the garment down the
length of her, his eyes following the path of exposed skin. She swallowed as the
cool morning air washed over her legs. She was already breathing hard, her pulse
frantic, when he positioned himself between her knees. His mouth parted and his
eyes met hers a moment before his warm breath bathed her sex. She had to close
her eyes.

Her embarrassment lasted only half a heartbeat before ecstasy
consumed her. His lips were on her. Then his tongue, licking a slow, intimate
path. He parted her with long, deft fingers. His mouth was unerring, teasing
lightly, finding secret places on her she never knew existed. He was making her
sob, making her scream. Making her love him.

He entered her in the aftermath, with her body shaken and too
sensitive to take all of him without a whimper. He was mindful of her as he took
his own pleasure, moving with such tender care that it broke her heart.

She opened her eyes. He held her gaze the entire time as his
movements became rough and his breath shallow. He climaxed like that, still
watching her.

This time, she was the first to turn away. She had to. She was
starting to wonder and she was starting to dream.

Kwan-Li slipped abruptly out of her as she sat up. Dao fumbled
with the clasps on her garment, staring down at her hands rather than at him.
Her heart was beating too fast and there was no way to escape. In his eyes, she
had seen both a promise and a demand and she was frightened of how he made her
hope for more. Maybe princesses could dream, but she couldn’t.

After a long pause, she could hear Kwan-Li getting up as well.
The silence grew oppressive.

“Princess.”

She turned to see him raised onto his knees beside the rugs and
blankets that served as her bed. His pupils were dark, his face a mask. He knew
something was wrong.

She fought to keep her voice steady. A low throb of pleasure
still vibrated through her. “You should know this changes nothing.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I would not presume it would.”

Dao could see the anger that vibrated through him.

“I am still marrying the khagan,” she said, gathering up her
hair.

She suddenly wanted more than anything to set herself right:
her hair, her clothing. If she could wash the scent of him from her skin, she
would. He’d somehow gotten inside her, mind and body, and the memory was too
hard to fight. She needed to get out of the confines of the tent and remove all
other reminders of what they had done. She didn’t regret it, she just needed it
finished. This was how affairs were conducted, weren’t they?

“Your clan negotiated this alliance. You have a duty,” she
reminded him. She struggled with the hairpins. “I have a duty.”

“Everything that you are saying is true,” he said
tonelessly.

Dao didn’t realize she had her hands clenched. She released
them and let the blood flow back into her fingertips. “I told you. I didn’t want
my first lover to be a stranger.”

Why was she explaining herself? Men were known to love and then
turn away from one breath to the next.

He closed each clasp on his
deel
methodically, one after the other, all the while watching her with the eyes of a
hawk. “The princess can rely on this humble servant to be discreet.” His mouth
twisted over the words.

Did he think she considered him beneath her? The horror of it
made her blood run cold. The Kwan-Li she had come to know took nothing lightly.
Not a kiss, not a single word. Surely not a night like the one they’d spent.

“I’m not a princess,” she blurted out.

He blinked at her. His frown deepened as he rose to his full
height and came to stand over her. “Not a princess?” he asked slowly.

Her heart raced. “I haven’t a drop of royal blood. I was given
the title by imperial decree—or rather my master’s daughter was, but Pearl ran
away so I came in her place. But I am still a princess by decree,” she amended.
“Your treaty will still be honored.”

“Such lies! Send a false princess to the barbarians. How would
they know the difference?”

His hair was untied and there was something powerful and
frighteningly beautiful about him as he glared at her. She was no longer
pretending and he was no longer restrained by civility.

“Did you really think every alliance bride was truly a
princess?” she asked impatiently.

“The imperial court thinks it can play whatever trick it wants
to on the ignorant Khitans.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “A trick? Like pledging loyalty
to both the Uyghurs and the Tang Empire at the same time?” she snapped.

He fell silent.

“Why did you choose to speak now?” he asked finally.

Because she’d grown to respect him. Because what they had
between them was changing too quickly for her to catch her breath. No man had
ever taken such good care of her or shown her such loyalty.

“You risked your life to protect me. I thought you should know
the truth.”

It was a poor explanation, but how could she explain how she
truly felt?

“I chose to come here,” she told him fiercely. “No one forced
me into this arranged marriage. The Emperor needed an alliance bride and this
was the only way that I could help my family. Me. The lowly servant.”

A lowly servant instead of a daughter. In a family that never
accepted her as one of their own until this sacrifice. Dao looked down at her
hands.

“Men seem to think they’re the only ones who know about
responsibility and honor,” she said, her ire spent.

The chill in the air seeped into her skin and the ache over her
heart refused to go away. She had known everything would be different after
their night together, but not like this. She’d become more attuned to his smell,
his touch, his very presence. Even the sound of his voice made her stomach dance
in circles.

For the first time since she’d begun this journey, she doubted
her decision. She could lose everything. All because a man had taken her to bed
and she had liked it. She had loved it—she might even love him, but it changed
nothing. She was not a silly, romantic girl to be blinded so easily.

“I will marry the khagan,” she said, keeping her voice steady.
“And you’ll go your own way, just as you said.”

“Princess.” Kwan-Li stopped on the title, no longer knowing
what to call her. “You had decided this before you came to me last night.”

“Yes. I even considered that there could be a child.”

Out here in Khitan, Dao finally had control over her own life.
At first it had felt like freedom. Now she was exhausted, drained of every
emotion. He tried to reach for her, but she wouldn’t let him.

“What if there is a child?” he asked softly.

She met his gaze without flinching. “So close to the wedding,
no one would ever know.”

“No man would ever allow that.”

She was reminded of her father, who wasn’t a bad man. Merely a
typical one.

“You’re wrong,” she said, forcing her heart to harden. “Plenty
of men do.”