Heart and Soul (54 page)

They’d gotten married three times, which seemed excessive
. At least, Jade counted it as three times. First, the avatar had declared them united, which must count for something. Then Kitwana’s father had insisted on marrying them in a tribal ceremony, before he and his son used the power of the rubies to hide the village from mortal eyes for as long as they could keep it concealed.

“I don’t know the meaning of the thing with the gourd,” Jade had said afterward, as they flew back—by rug—to Cape Town.

“I think it’s supposed to mean we’ll have lots of children,” Nigel had said, unwilling to admit he was equally puzzled. “Or perhaps that we’ll never go thirsty.”

They’d woken up an Anglican minister in Cape Town, and had gotten married in a small chapel, with Peter and Sofie and the Perigords as witnesses. The Perigords, who were leaving that night for England aboard a luxury carpetship, had given them the keys to their home.

“We will be selling it, of course,” they said, “but you can use it tonight. Better than a hotel.”

And now they stood in the Perigord’s best chamber, and Nigel was seized by a horrible fear that it wouldn’t work. That it would be like his night with Emily. That his heart would long to possess her, but his body wouldn’t rise to the occasion.

Jade had disappeared into one of the other chambers. To change, she’d said. And he’d undressed and put on his dressing gown. And now he stood, smoking, by the window.

The door opened slowly, shyly. He heard Jade’s steps. Afraid of what might happen, he forced himself to turn.

She stood by the door in a gown of silk so thin that he could see her body through it—her breasts, the swell of her hips. And she looked like everything a man had ever dreamed of—like home, and haven, and comfort. And like lust incarnate, too.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

He had trouble speaking through the knot in his throat, and his body was not having any trouble rising to the occasion. “I…You are the most wondrous beauty I’ve ever seen,” he managed at last.

“Really?” She took a slow step into the room. “Third Lady had a talk with me, before I left, and she told me about all these…things one can do. She was a singsong girl,” she added, blushing. “They teach them the theory, if not the practice.”

She suddenly walked farther into the room. “Let me show you Rose Petals Atop Bamboo Stalk.”

His pipe fell to the floor and shattered. They followed it down, ignoring the tobacco and shards. They did not make it to the bed for almost an hour.

And when they did, Nigel said, “I am not nearly as knowledgeable, but your dress looks like peach skin, and I would like to show you Unwrapping the Peach.”

He pulled her gown up, and he started kissing her, savoring the taste of her skin, the softness of it.

How strange the world was. He had found his soul mate across the world, and she was perfect and strange and everything at once.

“Sometimes,” he said, lifting his lips from her skin, “things happen far better than we could hope for.”

Jade looked at him and grinned. “Yes,” she said. “Now let me show you Man With Ice Hair Visits Dragon Cave.”

“What?” he said.

“This,” she said.

Their laughter flew, united, into the night.

COMING HOME

Lord and Lady Oldhall didn’t know what to make of it
all. The telegram from their son Nigel, who had now been missing for many months, had been, of course, received with great joy.

“Perhaps Carew is alive, too,” Lady Oldhall had said, “and will contact us again someday.”

“Perhaps,” her husband had said. “And he will not be foolish enough to marry some Chinese girl, whether she is the sister of the new emperor or not.”

“Yes,” Lady Oldhall said. “It sounds so very strange. Just like that, he tells us that Emily is gone, and that he has married a Chinese princess. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I will say to the girl. We must accept it, I guess, but what will people say?”

“Well, it must be faced,” Lord Oldhall said. “They landed in London a week ago, and however much shopping they have to do, they will be upon us any moment.”

At that moment, the footman appeared. “Mr. and Mrs. Nigel Oldhall,” he announced, and bowed out of the way.

Nigel came first, standing in the doorway, looking so tanned and muscular he might have been Carew. But before his fond parents could make this pleasing comparison, he extended his hand and a girl came in.

She was indubitably Chinese, even if tall and very well dressed. But she made a very deep curtsey to them, and as she rose, Lady Oldhall caught something very familiar in her face.

Oh, she was Chinese, there was no doubt about it. But to her expressions, the tilt of her head, her person entire, there was a fond echo of one of Lady Oldhall’s oldest friends. “Gussie,” she said. “It’s Gussie to the life,” before she could contain herself. “The same look, the same manner.”

“Oh,” Nigel said. “I did not tell you, did I? My wife’s mother was the former Miss Augusta Bentworth.”

“My dear,” Lady Oldhall said, and in the smile the girl gave her, she recognized even more of her friend. “Oh, my dear child. It was the fondest wish of your mother and I that our children should unite someday. And now it has come true.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sarah A. Hoyt was born in Portugal more years ago than she’s comfortable admitting. She currently lives in Colorado with her husband, teen sons and a clowder of various-size cats. She’s never been to China, but she’d like to visit someday. Around four dozen—at last count—of her short stories have been published in magazines such as
Weird Tales, Analog, Asimov’s
and
Amazing,
as well as various anthologies.
Ill Met by Moonlight,
the first book of her Shakespearean fantasy trilogy, was a finalist for the Mythopoeic Award. Sarah is also working on a contemporary fantasy series starting with
Draw One in the Dark,
and—as Sarah D’Almeida—is in the midst of a Musketeers’ Mystery series starting with
Death of a Musketeer.
Her website is
http://sarahahoyt.com/
.

ALSO BY SARAH HOYT

Soul of Fire

Heart of Light

HEART AND SOUL

A Bantam Spectra Book / November 2008

Published by

Bantam Dell

A Division of Random House, Inc.

New York, New York

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All right reserved

Copyright © 2008 by Sarah A. Hoyt

Bantam Books and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks and Spectra and the portrayal of a boxed “s” are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

eISBN: 978-0-553-90576-2

www.bantamdell.com

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