The entrance was through an interior corridor. She pushed open the door tentatively. The vast banquet hall was empty except for the one man seated at the head of the table. He stood and the air rushed from her.
Everything about Cheng seemed different now. His grey scholar’s robe was replaced with a dark blue brocade. His hair was combed and tied back neatly. He even appeared taller. Or maybe it was that her knees wanted to collapse as he came near. Her heart had stopped beating, she was sure of it.
“Your name isn’t Rose,” he accused lightly.
She thought of a hundred different retorts she could use, but in the end her elation at seeing him again overwhelmed her. “I started to like how you called me that.”
His expression remained inscrutable as he took her in. He had a new detached confidence about him and she yearned for the Cheng she’d known. She no longer knew how to be with him.
“Yang Jia-jing.” He pronounced her name slowly, as if tasting it on his tongue. “It took me a long time to find you.”
He’d been searching for her. She warmed at the thought.
Sentiment again. She’d make a fool of herself if she wasn’t careful. She composed herself. “I saw your name displayed at the examination hall. I’m very happy for you.”
And she was; both happy and sad.
Cheng’s expression softened. “I thought I’d see you after the exams. You knew where to find me.”
She shook her head, unable to answer. All she’d ever brought him was misfortune. He came forward until he stood right before her. She could already see him as an appointed official. He had the stature and bearing for it. She held on to the pipa as a last barrier between them.
He reached into his robe and pulled out an envelope. “I have something for you.”
She hesitated, searching his face. Finally she set her instrument aside and took the letter.
“That poem I promised you,” he said as she opened it.
“This is no poem,” she protested as she unfolded the paper inside to reveal a column of figures. Then she read through the entire letter. She looked up at Cheng to see the corners of his mouth twitching.
She bent her head to inspect the document one more time. “I was wrong,” she said, her throat threatening to close up. “It’s a beautiful poem.”
Cheng had paid off the troupe master. All her debts were cleared.
“I had to do it,” he said softly. He took a step closer. “After what you did.”
“Please don’t mention that.” Her face burned with shame. “It was all one mistake after another. I was only trying to set things right.”
“I wasn’t talking about you bribing the head of the ward.” He reached out to stroke his thumb along her cheek. “I meant what you did for me. When I first took the exams, I was afraid of expressing any opinions. I echoed the classics with cold efficiency, afraid of overstepping my bounds. You made me remember what it was to aspire, to risk everything. You showed me how to be fearless.”
“Reckless,” she corrected.
He grinned. “That as well.” Then his voice lowered, deepening with emotion. “You’re why I passed.”
He still hadn’t told her what she was hoping to hear: that he’d missed her. That he could think of nothing else. She should have known better than to dream like that. Her freedom was more than enough. The ring of laughter interrupted her thoughts.
“Rose…Jia. Do you think I learned nothing from you? This isn’t generosity.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. “Then what is it?”
“An offer.” He slid his arms around her, tugging at her so that she tumbled against him. “A bargain. A bribe.”
She steadied her hands against his chest. He felt so good. “What for?” she asked.
His voice lowered and his hold tightened around her. “So you’ll agree to be my wife.”
“I can’t.” She struggled against him, but it was only nominal at best. She’d dreamed of being in his arms every night they were apart. “You have a shining future ahead of you. You can have any match you want. A girl from a good family.”
“I want a woman who can take on lords and vagabonds alike.”
“But—”
Cheng silenced her with a kiss. Her limbs weakened at the possessiveness in his embrace. She fit herself to him and closed her eyes, letting his solid shape and presence surround her. She’d wanted him so much that it was painful to even think of it.
“I can do this until you stop arguing,” he threatened. “Forever if I need to.”
She started to renew her protest, but Cheng simply kissed her again to deliver on his threat—just as she’d hoped he would.
THE END
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About the Author
Jeannie Lin grew up fascinated with stories of Western epic fantasy and Eastern martial arts adventures. When her best friend introduced her to romance novels in middle school, the stage was set. Jeannie started writing her first romance while working as a high school science teacher in South Central Los Angeles. After four years of trying to break into publishing with an Asian-set historical, her 2009 Golden Heart® winning manuscript, Butterfly Swords, sold to Harlequin Mills & Boon.
As a technical consultant, backpacker, and vacation junkie, she’s traveled all over the United States as well as Europe, South Korea, Japan, China, and Vietnam. She’s now happily settled in St. Louis with her wonderfully supportive husband and continues to journey to exotic locations in her stories.
You can visit Jeannie Lin online at http://www.jeannielin.com
ISBN: 978-1-4592-2405-6
Capturing the Silken Thief
Copyright © 2012 by Jeannie Lin
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Letter to Reader
Acknowledgements
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
About the Author
Copyright