Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [184]
It was hard to concentrate. I was too aware of my body, indolent with lingering pleasure after a long drought. I peeked under my lashes, studying Bao's calm face with its high, wide cheekbones, wondering again how it was I hadn't noticed he was beautiful. He could be so calm, so still, and yet there was somewhat wild and untamed at his core that appealed to me. I thought about what he'd told me last night. Of his own will, he had walked away from his former life and had chosen a path of humility, but it had done naught to diminish the fierce pride within him.
That, I thought, was very interesting.
"Moirin." Master Lo chided me with a word.
I closed my eyes.
After a moment, Master Lo sighed. "Bao."
I opened my eyes to see Bao contemplating me under half-closed eyelids.
"I fear I have unleashed the whirlwind," Master Lo said with rueful good humor. "Go. Enjoy one another. I shall paint, and we will attempt this again on the morrow."
If anything, it was better today. There wasn't the driving urgency that Master Lo's tonic had imparted, but I'd always had ardor to spare and Bao certainly wasn't lacking. With his acrobat's body and his disciplined will, he was a very, very good lover, as skilled and inventive as any D'Angeline.
"Who taught you Naamah's arts?" I asked him afterward, wondering if it would draw forth any further dark revelations.
"Married ladies." He smiled lazily at me. "Rich wives bored with their husbands. I make them feel dangerous and exciting. And I like knowing a lowly peasant-boy makes them squeal with pleasure."
"Charming," I commented.
"You asked." He shrugged and picked up the little crystal bottle beside my bed, toying idly with the stopper. "Like you said, I'm not that person anymore."
I sat up quickly and touched his hand. "Don't, please. It was a gift."
Bao set the bottle down carefully. "From the White Queen?" he asked. I nodded. "Do you miss her?"
"Aye," I said softly. "I suspect a part of me always will."
"What about him?"
"Raphael?" I shook my head. "No. No, what was between us went so bad. I don't know, mayhap it never was good. I try not to think about him. And when I do…" I shuddered, remembering the Circle, the spirit Focalor, Claire Fourcay's death, the subtle flicker of lightning I thought I'd glimpsed in Raphael's eyes when it was over. "There's a part of me fears it's not finished between us, Bao. Even though I'm halfway around the world from him. And whatever's left to be played out, it's going to be bad."
His face darkened. "I wanted to split his head open for what he did to you. I wish I had."
"You're jealous!"
"Maybe." He gave me one of his sidelong looks. "Of him, anyway."
I was curious. "Why not Jehanne?"
Bao laughed. "Might as well be jealous of the moon for shining as be jealous of that one," he offered in a philosophical tone. "No, Lion Mane, that was different. He had a gift. Even Master Lo thought so." He spread his hands, gazing at them. "Healing hands. It would have been enough for me. Not him, not after you came."
"I know." I laced my fingers with Bao's. "I like your hands."
"Fighter's hands."
"Lover's hands, too." I kissed his hardened palms. "Did you love any of them at least a little bit? Your rich wives?"
"No." He was silent a moment. "There was a girl, though. Not Lin. Another girl, when I was older. In Shuntian, a merchant's daughter. Her amah used to bring me messages. Once we met in secret. I climbed a wall into her family's garden. She swore she loved me. I thought I did. We made promises to one another." He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Didn't happen. She married another merchant's son."
"You're a hopeless romantic!" The revelation delighted me. "Despite everything, you are! I'm sorry. But it's true, isn't it?"
He scowled. "I was."
I showered his face with kisses. "You still are. Are you in love with me?"
"No!" Bao held me off, laughing. "Not yet, you crazy witch-girl. Are you?"
"No," I admitted.