together rather than any specific moral code. Right and wrong were values that were subject to interpretation. Order was the natural intended state of heaven and earth and to commit a crime was to violate that state. Their household had once been kept with that same philosophy in mind.
Father also believed that every time a crime went unpunished, society was one step closer to ruin and decay. It had been several years since Han had spoken to the man, but he was sure Father’s ideals hadn’t shifted one bit.
If Han didn’t hunt the sword dancer down, he was certain no one else would or could. So now that his prisoner was trussed up before him, society was safe from ruin.
‘This is absurd,’ Li Feng muttered.
She was face down and draped over the saddle in front of him with her wrists and ankles tied
‘It will take at least a week to reach Taining.’ She tried to lift her head, but failed. ‘Are you going to keep me like this the entire time?’
‘Yes.’
‘I won’t try to run away. You’d just capture me again.’
‘Liar.’
Han looked down to where she lay practically in his lap, squirming. He was trying very hard not to notice the squirming or the flush of warmth it brought to his lower half. She was his prisoner. Not a dancer. Not a woman. Definitely not a somewhat pretty woman with exceptional skills.
He still had an ache in his side. His ribs were likely bruised after their wrestling match. Li Feng might be slight, but she struck with purpose. If he untied her, if he even allowed her to have a single finger free, he had no doubt she’d somehow get her hands on a knife and leave it protruding from his heart.
‘I should thank you for providing the horse,’ he added
jovially.
She called him something impolite under her breath. He’d been called worse, but not much worse.
‘You’re no hero, picking on the small and weak.’
‘You’re far from weak, Miss Wen.’
‘Aren’t there more evil and loathsome villains for you to chase after?’
Li Feng looked neither evil nor loathsome at the moment. More troubling than the fact that he found her not unpleasant to look at—and that she had a very well-formed backside—was that he found her interesting. How did a young woman acquire such an extraordinary set of skills? Why would she be involved with thieves and vagabonds?
* * *
At the next rest stop, he slipped her from the horse like a sack of grain and propped her against a tree. After tending to the horse, he poured water into a cup and brought it to her.
She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the trunk with a sigh. ‘The indignity.’
Han waited. Without its cynical expression, her face was delicately shaped, tapering only slightly towards her chin. Wen Li Feng was much easier to deal with when she was coming at him with a sword or spitting venom. This show of helplessness made him as uncomfortable as it did her. After a moment, she opened her eyes and tilted her head to accept the water. He had to kneel beside her to place the cup to her mouth. Her lips parted and she looked away as she drank. Han watched the lines of her neck as she swallowed, his own throat going dry.
‘Thank you.’ Her eyes were closed again.
The first time he’d seen her, her face had been heavily accented with make-up for the performance. Without it, her features were softer. A dancer’s true beauty was in the lines of her body and the way she moved. Her face was one that Han might never have noticed if he hadn’t seen her dance. Like the rest of her, its beauty was in movement. It was an expressive face, quick to show anger or amusement. Granted he’d seen more anger than any other emotion during their short acquaintance, but even that was beautiful in its intensity and fire. No one had ever schooled her to hide her emotions, to not let her face display her thoughts. It made one vulnerable to reveal so much, so easily.
When Li Feng performed, her expressions were coy and full of fire, but
Drew Karpyshyn, William C. Dietz