at the black curtain that fell down her back. An unbidden thought came to him and he wished it hadn’t.
‘Miss Yan Ling.’
She lay very still. Too still to be asleep. ‘Yes?’
Her voice sounded muffled and she didn’t face him, an act for which he was grateful. His throat grew dry with embarrassment, but he had to know.
‘Your virtue—’ The miserable words lodged in his throat. He coughed. ‘Is it … intact?’
She gasped and spun into motion, twisting around to push herself up to sitting position. ‘What are you suggesting? I told you I’m a good girl.’
‘Nothing,’ he said in a rush. ‘I’m not suggesting anything.’
He took a step forwards, which launched her backwards. Her back collided against the wall.
‘You stay right there!’ She shook a finger at him.
‘I didn’t bring you with me to claim you for myself, I’ve been honest with my reasons from the first. You need to be pure to be married to Khitan.’ Heavens above, his face was on fire.
‘Well, I know what happens when men and women are together alone.’
‘I don’t think of you in that way,’ he insisted.
Irresistibly Fei Long was plagued by a flicker of an image of the two of them, his arms around her bamboo-thin form, which he immediately tried to banish. Damn it all. It was only because she was insinuating it.
‘Intentions can change quickly.’ Yan Ling’s gaze narrowed on him as she reached for her slippers. ‘Male, female, there’s no logic to it in the heat of things. I’m sleeping outside.’
He moved to block the door before she could rise. Now he was starting to get irritated. ‘My intentions won’t change. Do you want me to swear it?’
She stared at him wide-eyed, one hand clasped to the neck of her tunic. Her skin was pale against the grey fabric and her hair fell over her eyes. ‘How can you be assured you won’t act differently in a … in a storm of passion?’ she forced out.
He almost laughed at her then, and at himself as well. There was an easy solution to this that they had both forgotten.
‘There will be no “storm of passion”. I know who I am,’ he said calmly. ‘And I know who you are.’
She regarded him warily. ‘So?’
‘We’re from very different classes in society.’
‘Yin and yang know no class,’ she retorted.
‘But I do and I won’t forget,’ he promised. ‘Ever. I swear I won’t touch you. It’s in neither of our best interests.’
She pulled away from the wall, but remained crouched and defensive. ‘Because I’m of a lower standing than you, you’d never touch me?’
‘Yes.’
Her shoulders remained tense. She seemed to be struggling with his logic, but finally she came to some resolution. ‘I suppose, my lord, that I should find that a comfort,’ she muttered.
He was left trying to decipher the sudden bite in her tone as she returned the slippers to the edge of the mat. She lowered herself to the ground, keeping her eyes directed away from him.
‘Yes, my virtue is intact,’ she said. ‘And I trust it will remain so.’
She curled up again and turned to the wall. Carefully, he returned to other side of the room and sat down on the bed. There were ten or so more nights of this madness between here and Changan. Ten more nights.
He would need to be sure to have a place secured for her wherever they stayed to avoid this mishap in the future. There was a reason for rules and codes of conduct in society. Everyone knew his place in the scheme of family, home and country. As long as every man served his purpose, no one was led astray. They hadn’t even reached Changan or started playing the game yet, but the shift in their statuses was already causing disorder and strife.
Fei Long watched the small figure in the corner. It wasn’t long before the tension eased away from Yan Ling and her breathing grew soft and deep. The journey had been a long one that day and she wasn’t accustomed to riding. He remembered the first time he’d spent most of the day in the saddle in the early part of his military training. Every muscle had ached and he’d fallen asleep before hitting the pallet.
He extinguished the lantern and pulled the quilt over himself as he lay back on the wooden platform. Yan Ling had pushed on that day with little complaint and tried her best to learn. Those qualities showed both strength and determination. This common tea girl was more than she appeared.
Think only of success, Sun-Tzu had taught. Fei Long would think only of success and he had ten days to lay out a plan.
For tonight, he decided not to remove his outer robe while he slept.
Chapter Three
Yan Ling gradually stirred to the chill of the air. The sharpness of it made her curl up into a tight ball. Instinctively, she tucked her chin to her chest and folded her feet close to her body to conserve warmth. Maybe she could coax a few more minutes of sleep out of the morning before the clanging in the kitchen woke her up.
Suddenly a soft weight fell over her, cutting off the chill. A hand settled gently over her shoulder and she jolted awake. Her arm shot out, her knuckles colliding against something solid.
‘The death of me—!’
The startled cry chased the last of the sleep from her. This was not her pallet. She was no longer in the teahouse. She sat up and found herself clutching a woven blanket. Fei Long was crouched at the edge of the mat, one hand pressed over his left eye.
‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.
‘You looked cold,’ he growled.
She stared at the blanket that had mysteriously appeared around her. Fei Long lowered his hand from his face, though he still winced from the blow. In the morning light she could make out every line of displeasure over his well-defined features.
‘Forgive me,’ she squeaked out.
‘If I had known you could hit like that, I wouldn’t have worried about your virtue.’
Was he … was he teasing her? Nothing else about his manner said so. His dark hair fell loose about his shoulders, giving him an untamed look that shocked her to her toes. The haze of the morning and his disarray made the moment uncomfortably intimate, though he was blinking at her with more ire than usual. She clutched the blanket tighter around herself.
Fei Long pulled himself to his feet and removed himself to the other side of the chamber. A knock on the door provided a momentary distraction. She went to open the door and the attendant presented her with a wash basin. Dutifully, she carried it to the table
