"My father raised me as a good Scottish Presbyterian, and that is my first faith," she said slowly. "But in China, one can follow more than one path. In my readings, I've found much in common between the Buddha and Christ, so I feel no conflict in my soul when I offer my prayers to Kuan Yin and the Buddha." She glanced at him. "Has Hoshan transformed you into a Buddhist?"

"Not really." He thought of an Italian painting in the Dornleigh gallery. A crucifixion scene, it depicted Christ with a spirituality as powerful as that of the Hoshan Buddha. He'd always been drawn to the painting, and now he knew why. "But I think that for the first time in my life, I am truly a Christian."

After a silent farewell, he turned away from the sacred valley and resumed climbing. The yearning that had drawn him to Hoshan had been perhaps the truest impulse of his life.

Chapter 23

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Though Kyle's mistake at Hoshan hadn't brought on pursuit, as a precaution Troth chose a different route back to Canton. Not only did it take them through new country, but it would extend their journey by several days. That knowledge was a guilty pleasure, for every hour in his company was a delight. She had never been so happy as she was now, traveling with a man who fully accepted who she was.

On the third evening after leaving Hoshan, they approached the small city of Feng-tang. She frowned at the sight of the high mud-brick walls. "Perhaps we should go around. This is a second-class prefecture city, so there will be many government officials and troops."

"We made it through Canton safely, and that's far larger. Besides, to avoid Feng-tang we'd have to backtrack for miles or flounder through rice paddies, which would certainly irritate the owners. Safer to carry on as humble travelers."

With a nod, Troth tugged at Sheng's bridle and they continued into Feng-tang. Her disquiet returned when they passed through the western gate into a street teeming with people. Children raced by with scarlet paper streamers while their elders chattered with friends or watched street entertainers. As Sheng shied away from the explosion of a bamboo firecracker, Kyle asked softly, "What's going on?"

She glanced at the dragon kites soaring overhead. "Some kind of local festival. I'll ask when we register at the inn."

They were turned away from two inns before they got the last room at a third. The innkeeper was happy to answer questions, so when they were safe in their quarters Troth reported, "The local prefect is named Wu Chong, and this festival is for the birth of his first son. Apparently Wu is well along in years and none of his wives had borne him a child, so he's celebrating with offerings at all the city temples, a street fair, and a parade with a lion dance tonight."

"A lion dance? Let's go out later and watch." Kyle unwound the bandage from his head with practiced hands. She always loved the moment when he went from being grandfather to lover. Her lover.

She bit her lip, considering. "We should avoid public events. The festival will have drinking and rowdiness."

"I have faith in your ability to protect me." He removed the wig and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'd really like to see a festival. During Chinese New Year I kept looking out toward Canton and wishing I could join the celebrations."

She gave him a long, slow smile. "Persuade me."

"And what form should that persuasion take, my shameless one?" Eyes gleaming, he crossed the small room in two strides and scooped her into his arms. "Do you want to be ravished?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh, please!"

He had her tunic off before they reached the bed, and her trousers went flying moments later. How very deft he was, she thought breathlessly as he dedicated himself to a thorough ravishing. Sometimes she wanted to ask him if such fierce pleasure was normal between two people, but she didn't dare. She wanted to think that this was special, and that when they came together she was the only woman in his world as he was the only man in hers.

The only man in the world… Shuddering, she buried her hands in his hair and traded thought for rapture.


They dozed after making love, coming awake when a string of firecrackers exploded in the street just outside their window. Troth stirred in Kyle's arms, saying sleepily, "We can eat from our saddlebags. Then I can ravish you."

"What a wonderful offer." Kyle kissed the exquisite curve of her shoulder lingeringly, tempted to agree. Instead, he swung from the bed. "But I'm hungry, this is the only festival I'll see, and I can perfectly well be ravished later."

Suppressing a yawn, she rose and pulled on her clothes. "What an indefatigable tourist you are, my lord."

"Guilty," he said with a chuckle as he watched her dress. He didn't bandage his eyes until every lovely inch of her was covered. It was powerfully erotic to be the only one who knew the beauty concealed by her shapeless garments.

He wondered for the thousandth time if he should ask her to be his mistress back in England, but the answer was always the same. She was a lover beyond compare, as witty and kind as she was passionate, but as his mistress she'd once more be relegated to a half-life, barred from polite society. She deserved better than that-not only respect, but also the opportunity to meet a man who would love her as she deserved.

What would it have been like if he'd met her before he'd met Constancia? The thought was so disorienting that he suppressed it. Constancia had molded him into the man he was now. Without her influence, he wouldn't have been worth knowing, She had taught him to love-then taken his heart with her when she died.

It was the only ill turn she'd ever served him.


Troth swallowed the last bite of her honey roll, glad Kyle had persuaded her to come out. The streets crackled with merriment, lanterns lighting the night, peddlers selling delicious tidbits, and old men gambling in corners with their cronies. A fortune-teller tugged at her sleeve. "Tell your fortune, young man? Wealth and pretty concubines surely await you."

Troth shook her head. "Sorry, Grandmother, I'd rather not know what the future holds." Which was the truth, she thought wryly.

Taking a firm hold on Kyle's arm, she continued on until they reached a puppet theater. No language was required to appreciate the farcical story of honorable men, beautiful women, and evil sorcerers. She was impressed by Kyle's ability to keep his head bent feebly while drinking in every detail through the layer of gauze.

The show ended and she dropped a coin into the basket carried around by a small daughter of the troupe. Moving on, she bought two tiny cups of rice wine from a vendor, who dipped the fiery spirit from a deep jar with a lacquered ladle. Kyle was so taken with the ladle that he signaled for another cup even though the first one left him gasping. Troth grinned; rice wine was closer to brandy than to European wines.

The thunder of drums began reverberating through the narrow streets. "The parade! Come, Grandfather, so we can find a spot to watch."

Ruthlessly using Kyle's apparent age, she managed to get them a good vantage point. First the drummers marched by, booming in perfect unison. Then dancers capered past in flamboyant costumes. A group of black-robed Manchu Bannermen, the imperial soldiers, passed, and then the prefect himself in a sedan chair.

Dressed in brilliantly embroidered robes and surrounded by his entourage, Wu Chong nodded graciously to the people of his city. His eyes were snake cold, though; Troth didn't envy the wives who had failed to give him the son he wanted.

Pipes, drums, and cymbals heralded the appearance of the lion dancers. Troth caught her breath, excited as a child when the huge lion leaped into view, firecrackers banging around its feet, the brilliantly painted head snapping at masked dancers who teased the beast with fans. The costume cloaked two acrobats, and their feats turned the beast into a creature of dangerous legend as the crowd roared with delight. She watched with one hand locked in Kyle's, glad the crowd was so thick that no one would notice.

When the lion had passed, they joined the throng that followed it to the main city square. Under exploding fireworks, the prefect paid the lion dancers by tying a red bag full of money at the top of a tall pole. The lion reared up, lunging repeatedly until the lead dancer snatched the bag. The crowd cheered wildly, then broke into smaller groups to continue celebrating throughout the night.

Tired but exhilarated, Troth took Kyle's arm and headed toward the inn. Luckily, she still had enough energy to ravish him…

Disaster struck with lightning swiftness. They were a block from the inn when a group of drunken carousers approached from the other direction. Troth drew Kyle to one side of the street. From the tautness of his arm, she knew he was alert to possible danger. Shouting and singing, most of the group had passed when one drunk shoved another, sending the second man stumbling into Kyle.

"S-sorry, Grandfather." One of the drunk's thrashing hands became entangled in Kyle's queue. As he lurched away, the wig ripped from Kyle's head, along with the hat and some of the gauze bandages. As Troth gasped in horror, the drunk stared stupidly at the swinging wig. Then he raised his gaze, his jaw dropping as he recognized the alien cast of the features that had been partially revealed. "A Fan-qui spy!"

As his friends turned and crowded around, the drunk clawed at the disordered bandages. Kyle tried to twist away, but in the process more bandages were dislodged, clearly revealing his European face.