Chapter Twenty-One
Yihui couldn’t sleep. This was the longest she’d been inactive in her entire life.
Her fever was gone, her bones were knitting, and her mind was filled with Max, Max, Max.
How many times had he saved her? Once when she was presented to his king, again when he saved her from Lao Gu, and now again against his own ruler.
How had she not realized he was a Dragon King?
How was this possible? How could a foreign man possess the strength of a dragon? But that was ignorance. Dragon power was too strong to be contained in China alone. Only vanity made her think such a thing.
And now she knew that Max was a dragon, and she was left in awe. Better yet, she would marry him. The royal had declared it, and Max had bowed his head in agreement. Such was the way of heaven, she supposed, to have her own father sell her to a foreign king, only for her to find a man who…
Who must love her. That was the only explanation! She had not believed in love at first sight or that beauty could turn a man’s heart, but she had no other explanation for the way he treated her. Kindness, respect, honor. These were the actions of a man in love.
She had to sit with the thought for many long minutes.
She knew people who loved. Couples who adored one another throughout the years.
Those who still gazed warmly at each other even in their old age.
And of course, there were fables of great souls who loved.
Gods and goddesses, powerful men and the women they wanted.
It wasn’t always about the woman’s beauty.
Sometimes she possessed extraordinary skill.
Yihui knew her strengths. She was not a great beauty in China, but perhaps she was enough here in England.
She also knew she survived when others failed, plus she understood great medicines from China.
She would be an asset to any man. Why couldn’t an English dragon see her worth?
And why wouldn’t he fall in love with her?
The excitement of this thought shivered through her.
It was possible! And if it were true, then she vowed here and now that she would honor him as truly as any wife could.
She thought about their children, wondering how dragon strength would filter into a half-Chinese child.
She’d been taught that the English were too pale, too shallow to sustain elemental power, but obviously, that was wrong.
Which meant her children would have the power of a dragon and the cunning of a rat, which was her zodiac sign.
What a joy that combination would be. So she spun dreams around a foreign man who would take her as his own. She was deep in a dream of presenting him with their son when a soft knock interrupted her fantasy.
“Come in,” she said, expecting it was the maid here to take away her evening tray.
The door opened, and it was no maid. It was Max, his shoulders broad enough to block the light. Yihui immediately straightened, being sure to keep her head bowed respectfully even as she tried to peer surreptitiously up at him.
“My lord, you are welcome.”
He smiled and pointed at the book on her lap. It was a child’s primer on English that Emmaline had given her. “Are you learning to read?”
“An educated woman must read and write.” It would be a necessity for her as his wife.
“That’s true.” He frowned as he stepped into the room. “Is it hard? I can’t imagine trying to learn a new language now. I had the devil of a time with Latin and Greek, and I’ve forgotten most of it.”
“I have always been clever with languages. It was my best asset to my father.”
He nodded. “I imagine that’s true.”
He stood there a moment, long enough for her to be daring enough to lift her head. Only a wife could do such a thing, and she was thrilled that he seemed to like it. Then he pulled up the chair and sat near enough to kiss.
She didn’t lean forward, though. That would be too bold. But she felt his presence like the heat of the sun. So close. So attentive. A man in love with her.
For a woman used to being dismissed, the idea was like opium in her blood. She was dazed by the very possibility. Meanwhile, he continued to talk as if she weren’t reeling from the clash of hope and cynical experience inside her.
“I have been very busy lately trying to learn everything I can about your country. I’m afraid we don’t know much, and so I will listen closely to everything you say.”
She flushed, delighted that she had a purpose in his life. “What do you wish to know?” She touched the book. “I could teach you Chinese.”
“A worthy goal,” he admitted, but then shook his head. “But I have something else to discuss with you first.”
Their marriage, perhaps? She knew all the customs of a Chinese wedding, but nothing of his traditions. She would have to learn quickly if she was not to shame him.
“You heard what Prinny said,” he began. “You know he commanded us to marry.”
“I know.” Should she say how happy she was at the idea? That she would make a very good wife to him? In China, she had been taught that a lady kept her expression opaque and her hopes hidden.
“The thought must terrify you,” he continued, oblivious to her thoughts. “You’ve left everything behind.”
“I am not afraid.”
His lips curved into a warm smile. “You amaze me. I don’t think I would fare half as well.”
“It would not have happened to you.” No Dragon King would be sold as she had been.
“There is always someone stronger. Or several someones who band together.” He shook his head. “But that’s not important. The thing is, I cannot contradict the prince. He has declared that we wed, and I must honor that.”
It was true then. She would be his. She would lay in his bed, bear his children, serve his people, she—
“At least,” he said slowly, “I must appear to honor that.”
It took a moment for his words to penetrate her fog of hope. But the lurch in her chest told her that she should have remained cynical. Hope was a painful trap.
“You look upset.”
“I do not understand, but I will learn. I swear I—”
“Don’t be so afraid of me, Yihui. I will find a way to make us both happy.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, trying to stall for time. “Happy is a good thing.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “In England, a man cannot cry off. Once engaged, he cannot refuse to wed.” He paused, his gaze steady. “But a woman can.”
“A woman can refuse to wed?” The idea shocked her.
“Yes. Exactly. She can refuse a man who is not suitable.”
“But you suit me. The king said so.”
“Prinny said we must marry, and so we will pretend to do so. The banns will be read. The invitations sent out. Everything will look like a wedding.”
“But we will not marry?”
“The night before, you will cry off. You will say that you cannot marry someone so different from you. Say we do not suit.”
Panic had her heart beating very fast. “But then what will I do?”
He caught her hand, trapping it easily between his two much larger palms. “I shall give you an annuity. That’s a yearly amount of money to live on. I can give you a home in the country if you like. Or if you want to stay in London, then it will be enough to live well if you are careful.”
“An annuity,” she repeated, testing out the word.
“Yes. Say five hundred pounds a year. Something like that.”
She had no idea how much money it took to survive alone, but she had bargained all her life. She knew better than to accept the first offer from anyone. “Five hundred is much too little,” she said firmly.
He cocked his head. “Is it? And how do you know that?”
“I know many things,” she countered. “Double that would not even be enough.”
“Five hundred pounds is very generous.”
“Do you live on so little? No, you do not. I think your boots are worth five hundred pounds. I am an apothecary. I am worth very much more than a pair of boots.”
He chuckled. “Yes, I guess you are. But an annuity is paid every year until you die.”
“You get new boots every year.”
“I do not!”
“You get new clothes then. Boots one year, shirts and…” She pointed to the silk cloth about his neck.
“Cravat.”
“Cravat. New, every year. Am I not worth more than a cravat?”
He was silent as if considering. When he spoke, he showed that he was not as easy a mark as she hoped. But then what Dragon King would be?
“If I gave you a thousand pounds per annum, what would you do with such a fortune?”
“I would buy good boots for winter. And a warm coat.”
“I shall purchase those things for you.”
“I must have a home, yes?” Her hand tightened in the heavy coverlet. She had thought she would live here with him in the riches that surrounded her.
“I will see that you have a good home. A safe one with enough coal in the winter.”
She shook her head. “A Dragon King does not do such a thing. Not for a discarded woman.”
“A Dragon King?” he said. “Is that what you think of me?”
Had she called him that aloud? She should not have revealed so much, but he spoke so gently with her, even as he dashed her dreams. She found it easy to speak honestly with him. “I think that discarded women starve.”
He touched her face. A gentle stroke of his large hand across her brow first, to pull her hair away. Then his palm cupped her chin and his thumb caressed along her jaw. And he steadily pressed her face upward until she looked him in the eye.
“You are not a discarded woman, Yihui. Indeed, I think I shall be paying an exorbitant amount for your livelihood.”
“How much?” she asked as tears filled her eyes. The Dragon King did not want her.
“Fifteen hundred, and not a penny more.”
“Seventeen.”
He pulled back a bit, clearly shocked that she fought even as tears slipped past her lashes.
“Sixteen.”
She shook her head. “Seventeen or we wed.”
His thumb continued to stroke her jaw, back and forth until she was nearly mad with the sensation. She wanted to feel that over her entire body, but all she had of him was this single caress. And his money.
“Seventeen,” he said softly. “Most daughters are not dowered so well.”
“You must write it down. Seal it with your chop.”
He frowned. “My chop?”
She touched the signet ring on his finger. “Your chop. Your—”
“Ah. My seal. Yes. I will have the papers written up. Everything will be proper, Yihui. But first you must agree to pretend we are engaged. We must make a good show of it for the prince.”
“And then I am to cry.”
“Cry off. Yes. The prince cannot force you. You are not English.”
“And if I do not?”
His hand dropped away. “Then I will say that you have, and no one will contradict me.”
He would force it. Of course, he would. No dragon wanted her.
She should have known better than to create fantasies about something that could never be.
She could fight this, but to what end? They held all the power.
If she could manage money from this pretense—money enough to keep her clothed and fed—then she could ply her trade.
She would open an apothecary shop. She would treat those who needed medicine.
And if they did not want such things from a woman, then they could die.
It was what she’d planned, anyway, before she thought he loved her. Before she’d realized he was a Dragon King, and she would be pleased to be his bride.
“I will pretend,” she said. “And then I will set you free.” She shrugged, pretending every word didn’t hurt. “I will put on a good show for everyone as I throw you away.”
He smiled. “I look forward to it.” He straightened up, pulling his hands and body away from her. “I have errands to do tomorrow, and a surprise for you. But it won’t come until the afternoon.”
“A surprise?”
“Tomorrow,” he said. Then he winked at her.
It was such a delightful gesture, one done between people who care.
It was not done with lechery in mind, but as a friend might to another.
And it was so startling that Yihui once again felt lost in the fantasy of love.
It was an illusion, but when he smiled at her, she forgot.
A moment later, he bid her good night and was gone.