The Captain's Pearl (3 page)

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Authors: Jo Ann Ferguson

BOOK: The Captain's Pearl
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She grabbed his trousers. “I plead with you in the memory of the father you share with my mother, do not shame our family.”

“You are what shames us.” He slapped her hands away. “The curse has been excised.”

Lian leapt to follow him. When Sun Niang caught her arm, she tried to pull away. His fingers dug into her arm until she moaned. He threw her to the floor, knocking out her breath in an explosion of pain.

“Get up!” he ordered.

When the order was repeated, she found the strength to rise to her knees. Anguish sent nausea through her.

“Get up!”

She knew the price of disobedience. Pushing against the floor, she stood. She lowered her head as she faced her tormentor.

Sun Niang said, “Disobey, and you will die.”

Lian nodded.

“Come, woman.”

She said nothing. To speak was to chance more abuse.

Sun Niang led her into the fading sunshine. The inner courtyard was even more despicable than the outer, but, when she saw what awaited her there, she was sure few who entered it noticed.

A dozen small shacks filled the garden. She stared at the brazen women who were dressed in silk drapes. Her hand went to the collar of her
ch 'eÅ­ng shaam
. She had heard how the foreign devils' women bared their bodies, but she had never imagined a Cantonese woman would be so bold.

Sun Niang pointed at a little shack which was half the size of the hut she had shared with Mother. The strands of rice in the doorway struck her, and she moaned in dismay. On the earthen floor was nothing but a pallet.

“You shall stay here.” Sun Niang shoved silk into her hands. “I usually check my new girls to be sure they are virgins.” With a laugh, he pushed aside the rice curtain and squeezed through the narrow door. “I need not worry with you, ugly one. No man could look upon you with desire.” He walked away.

Lian closed her eyes to hold in tears. She could not change the color of her eyes, but she had begged Mother to let her have her feet bound. Mother had told her that no daughter of an American sea captain would bind her feet. Not that it mattered now.

Holding up the light blue drape, she shivered. She was of the family of Ch'en, although she had not been permitted to claim the name. Daughters of her family had been sold as concubines to the finest houses. None had been prostitutes. Yet to disobey Sun Niang meant death. She turned her back on the door as she undressed.

The silk slipped along her skin, caressing her. In other circumstances she might have enjoyed the luxury. She sat on the reeking pallet and cursed Mother's Younger Brother to be tormented for all eternity by every green-eyed demon in hell.

Green eyes!

She shuddered again. How had she failed to see that the
Yang Kuei-tzÅ­
with the green eyes was an omen for disaster?

“Mother's Father,” she whispered, “send me salvation. I will do whatever I must to flee from this.”

Voices approached the shack. Lian looked up. Surely they would pass by, as others had all night. Sun Niang had been right. No man wanted her.

Horror clamped around her throat as the rice curtain was pushed aside. Sun Niang pointed to the dirt. Although every inch of her rebelled, she dropped to her knees and pressed her head to the earth.

“She is a virgin, kind sir,” said Sun Niang in a wheedling voice. “A rare pearl.”

She heard coins being counted. As the rice curtain rattled into place, she recoiled as fingers brushed her shoulders.

“Lian, rise. Look at me, please.”

She gasped at the thickly accented Cantonese speaking her name. A finger under her chin brought her face up, and she stared into blue eyes. Davis Catherwood!

“Lian,” he whispered. “Remember? Brother Davis.”

Sitting back on her heels, she looked past him. Was his demonic comrade here, too? No, thank the gods. But Davis Catherwood had accused Mother of lying. If he had not believed Mother, why was he here? There was, she realized, only one reason. He wanted a woman. How could he call himself her brother and be here?

He put his hand out to her, but she cowered away. If there was any chance he might be her brother … a tremor ached through her stomach.

“No afraid. I—” He paused and growled in English, “What's the word I want?”

“I speak English. Small bit.”

“That's right. Your mother said that.” His smile contained warmth, but she watched him warily. She could not guess what a foreign devil might do. “Lian, don't be afraid. You're my sister. You don't want to stay here, do you?”

She shook her head.

“How did you get here?” Davis wondered what would have happened to Lian if one of the men from the
China Shadow
had not mentioned seeing a blue-eyed Chinese woman being forced into Sun Niang's whorehouse.

“Mother's Younger Brother sold me,” Lian whispered so lowly he had to strain to hear her. “Because of my ugly face. This was his way of freeing the family of shame.”

Davis's lips tightened. “Ugly? Is that what they tell you? That's odd, because my first mate Bryce has mentioned surprisingly often how lovely you are.”

“First mate Bryce?”

“The man with me last night. His name is Bryce.” Sitting on the stained pallet, he tried not to stare. His sister should not be dressed like this. “Lian, you are my sister. What type of beast do you think I am?”

Lian lowered her gaze. “I know little of the ways of the—of the—”

“Go ahead. Say it.” He laughed roughly. “To you, I'm sure we seem like foreign devils. Well, this foreign devil has come with an offer.”

“An offer? What does that mean?”

He whispered, “Let me take you home.”

“To Mother?” Happiness danced through her, then faded. “Mother's Younger Brother will bring me back here.”

Folding her fingers in his rough hands, he said, “Let me take you to America. Home. With our father. Your father and my father.

Lian stared at him. Was he mad? So often Mother had told her stories of Captain Catherwood, but to Lian he was a myth, like the other tales in the thousand stories box.

“Lian, do you want to go?”

“To America?” She shook her head. “This is my home.”


This
will be your home if you stay here.” He flung out his arm and grimaced when his hand struck the wall. “I cannot believe you want to whore for that bastard out there.”

“I cannot leave Mother alone.”

“If we take your mother with us, will you come?”

Even as Lian smiled, Davis wished he had not offered this rash promise. His father had never mentioned a Chinese mistress, but Davis could not leave his sister in this dung heap. Bryce was right. She was beautiful. From her downy cheeks to her slender chin, she teased a man's fingers to touch her. The smooth skin along her neck drew his eyes down to the gentle curves beneath …

Davis gulped and stood. “Get dressed!” Heaven above, he should not be staring at his sister like this.

“Sun Niang must have taken my clothes when he brought you in!”

“You cannot leave like this.” He grinned and patted her arm. “Wait here. I'll get you some clothes.”

She grasped his arm. “Do not leave me here, Captain Catherwood.”

“You should call me Davis, little sister,” he corrected gently. “Don't worry. I will give Sun Niang a few extra coins to convince him to offer you to no one until I return.”

“He will cheat you.

“Trust me, little sister. I know how to deal with him.”

When he kissed her cheek, Lian stared at him in astonishment. Maybe Davis Catherwood would bring the happy ending to Lian's story as Mother had hoped.

Lian sat on the pallet and strained to hear Davis negotiating with Sun Niang in the courtyard. They stood too far away. Footfalls fading in the distance warned her brother was leaving. When he returned, he would take her and Mother to America.

A rattle warned her to kneel. Renewed terror cut through her. Had Davis failed to persuade Sun Niang not to sell her to anyone else?

“You have found much favor with that American, ugly one.” Holding a handful of money close to her lowered eyes, Sun Niang chuckled. “He pays highly. Treat him well, ugly one. Soon the Americans will sail away. If you fail to pleasure the Cantonese, you shall die.”

He left, giving her no chance to answer. Not that she wanted to. If she had met his eyes, she might have revealed she was going to escape. She and Mother would be together again. Even being banished to America was not too high a price to pay. She would do whatever she must to repay her brother … even if it took the rest of her life.

Three

Footsteps stopped in front of Lian's hut. The rice strands were thrust aside, and a man stepped through—a man she could not forget, although she had seen him but once. His face was sharply carved like the gods on the family altar. When he grasped her arms, she was sure his muscles must be as hard as stone. The breadth of his shoulders seemed too wide for this hut, but she paid no attention as she stared into his green eyes.

Bryce! What was
he
doing here? Had something happened to Davis?

Before she could ask, he hissed through his mustache that was as ebony as his hair that fell past his collar, “Stop staring like a fool.” He cursed when his head hit the low roof. “Kneel to me.”

“Bryce—”

“How do you know my name?” He scowled as she started to explain. “Later.” With his hands heavy on her shoulders, he crushed her toward the ground. “Cooperate, you little fool. I don't want to get into a fight over you.”

Unsure of all his words, she glared at him before she dropped her forehead to his muddy boots. She listened as he talked to someone outside. He spoke Cantonese with only a hint of an accent.

“Good,” he murmured in English. “That should keep him away.” Louder, he ordered, “Get up.”

Wanting to ask why he sounded angry, she sat back on her heels, then stood. When his gaze raked the flimsy material, she remembered what Davis had told her. Bryce did not find her ugly. She raised her arms to cover herself. He caught them in his broad hands. Fire seared her as if she had been scorched by a cooking pot—only this heat was oddly pleasurable, making her want to savor it. Daring to lift her eyes, she found his glowing, not from opium, but with emotions that both frightened and enticed her.

“Faith!” he breathed. His hands moved toward her, but he pulled them back and whirled to look out the door. In a tight tone, he whispered, “Get dressed.”

“This is all I have.” She was glad he spoke Cantonese.

“Does the captain know that?”

“He has gone to get clothes for me.”

He faced her and pinned her in place with his green gaze. “Do you realize how dangerous this will be?”

“I would rather be dead than live this life.”

He laughed tightly. “I would rather be alive than risk my life to help my captain's half-Chinese half-sister escape a brothel. If you
are
his sister.” He glanced at the door. The word he snapped under his breath was not Cantonese. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Cooperate, if you want to get out of here alive.”

Lian gasped as he pushed her back onto the filthy pallet. She tried to roll away.

Leaning over her, he grasped her head and forced it under his. A wicked smile tilted his lips. “Make this look good, blue eyes,” he murmured.

Her scream was muted by his mouth over hers. She tried to wiggle away. She raised her fists to strike him, but his other hand grasped her wrists and pinned them to the pallet. She struggled beneath him until he laughed.

In horror, she looked up. His green-gray eyes twinkled with merriment. When his hand settled on the curve of her hip, she shivered. Why did this fire burn wherever he touched her? Was he a demon sent to torture her?

There was a strange, rough sound in his voice as he whispered, “Keep squirming like this, and I might forget that I promised to do no more than keep an eye on you.”

She froze, frightened by the potent heat in his eyes and the wisp of a smile beneath his mustache. When his hand brushed her cheek, fire cascaded through her again. She closed her eyes, unable to resist the sweet temptation of his mouth caressing her eyelids before teasing the tip of her nose.

“You must stop,” she whispered. “This is—”

“Delicious.” His tongue traced her lips, and the brush of his mustache tickled her. “Absolutely delicious. Now let's convince your nosey friend that you're earning your keep.” He captured her mouth again.

Knowing he was trying to protect her, she did not fight him. Instead, she was fighting herself and the longing to touch him as he was her. His fierce kisses swept away her breath as he held her between his rock hard arms and his lips.

His mouth explored hers, sparking every inch to life. Her fingers discovered firm muscles beneath his cotton shirt. Loosening his grip on her hair, he outlined her body with undisguised eagerness. She sighed against his mouth, unable to battle her own craving.

His tongue jabbed past her lips to find that soft sound. Astounded by the lightning which shot through her as he boldly explored her mouth, she delighted in the forbidden rapture. Her fingers rose through his hair and discovered his sweaty skin at the open collar of his shirt. Fiercely he pressed her to the ground, demanding as much pleasure as he gave.

“What in hell—?” came a gasp.

“Don't get ruffled, Captain,” Bryce said in English, as he stood and pulled Lian to her feet. “We were just making sure that bastard out there didn't get suspicious.”

Davis glanced at Lian who was staring at his first mate an unfocused gaze. “Does she realize that was why you were kissing her?”

“I explained it.” He smiled. “Like I said last night, she's ripe for a tumble.”

“Dammit, Bryce! She
is
my sister.” He motioned to Lian.

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