“I remained in the capital to ensure peace between our two lands,” he said in response to her questioning look.
“Much like an alliance bride then,” she suggested.
He paused to think. “Perhaps a very similar arrangement…”
She grinned. “But in your case, you weren’t bound into marriage.”
He blinked at her, taken aback, looking flustered. “No…I was not.”
In that confusion, his expression lost its sternness, his eyes their coldness, and his speech relinquished that distinctive formality that she now knew was due in part to his having come from a foreign land. Without that wall in place, his entire demeanor changed.
“No woman would have you, barbarian that you are,” she teased.
His mouth curved upward slightly, with a crookedness to the smile, which sent a small flutter to her belly. He suddenly appeared approachable. More than approachable. For all its hardness, his face wasn’t an unpleasant one to look at. A slow rise of heat invaded her cheeks and she had to look away.
Dao prided herself on being practical. She had lived a life of servitude and constant toil. Cunning was more important than charm. She fought to keep her observations impassive as she gazed at Kwan-Li in profile: the hard shape of his jaw, the arch of his cheekbones, the curve of his mouth that took on an unexpected sensuality when he smiled.
Wayward dreams of romance would lead only to ruin. She had known that truth since birth. So Dao had no such romantic thoughts now as she rode beside Kwan-Li. Instead she tried very hard to forget that in a few weeks she would be wed to a stranger.
* * *
They stopped to rest again several hours later after which Princess An-Ming insisted on getting back onto the saddle.
“The princess will be sore tomorrow,” Kwan-Li advised.
“She won’t be.” She positioned herself beside the horse and prepared to mount, ignoring him.
“She will.”
“She won’t.”
An-Ming braced a foot onto his knee while one hand grasped his shoulder, fully expecting compliance. He hefted her up with a bit more force than necessary and she tottered as she clambered into the saddle.
Her eyes flashed fire down at him. He kept his expression blank as he mounted. Her touch on him, however brief and impersonal, lingered, as did the scent of her perfume.
Perfume. Out here among the dust and needle grass of the steppe.
It had been easier when he had only been subjected to brief glimpses. A tantalizing flutter of yellow silk as she went from the sleeping tent to her sedan. He had expected the princess to maintain her distance and a proper sense of formality throughout the journey. Instead she insisted on riding in the open, on redirecting the entire caravan if there was some sight she wanted to see. She was as restless and vibrant as a summer wind across the grassland.
At least Princess An-Ming had donned more modest clothing for riding. Those elaborate robes she wore only gave the illusion she was hidden under layer upon layer of silk. Every movement hinted at the rounded curve of her hips, the enticing indent of her waist, and in a swirl of color that could not be ignored against the starkness of the plains.
“Why do you always have that scowl on your face?” she asked.
He’d been gazing at the horizon, taking in the long-awaited sight of the land of his birth and preventing himself from looking too long at her.
“I am thinking.” He tried again to turn his attention away, but she wouldn’t allow it.
“What about?”
It always surprised him how easily she fell into informal speech with him. The intimacy was out of place. It was the same way with the sly, sideways glance she wielded so masterfully.
She was watching him now, eyes bright, mouth pink and pressed just so. Her face was sensually rounded and he could lose a day just watching the expressions that danced across it. He turned to her, resigned. That intriguing dimple on her left cheek was showing itself.
Why this woman? Why her when he’d been indifferent to all manner of beautiful women in the capital? She was a princess and the Emperor’s niece. Most importantly, her arranged marriage was meant to ensure peaceful relations between their lands.
“Our progress is not as I had hoped,” he said.
“You’re still upset that I wanted to ride today.”
She smiled at him, amused. He amused her.
“I have no objection to you. This, however—” He gestured toward the impossibly long trail of wagons in the caravan.
She frowned, affronted. “I didn’t ask for all this. I don’t need people to dress and feed me.”
He eyed her skeptically.
“But I should have such luxuries…being a princess,” she amended, lifting her chin haughtily.
There was something very, very strange about Princess An-Ming.
“The princess must know how important it is to travel swiftly,” he explained. “The Uyghur delegation has sent their own alliance bride to petition for marriage. They may already be at the khagan’s central camp.”
An-Ming paled. “Another princess? But I’m supposed to be the khagan’s bride! He wouldn’t dare go back on his word.” She paused and looked at him imploringly. “Would he?”
Had she truly been locked away in some dark corner of the palace? It was told that the princesses of the Tang Empire were formidable women. An-Ming certainly upheld that reputation when it came to her audaciousness, but she seemed to know nothing of the politics of the imperial court.
“This was why the journey was moved ahead several months,” he explained, a bit impatiently.
“But the Khitans asked for this alliance to our empire.”
“The alliance is important to many of the southern tribes such as mine, but Khitan is a confederation of many tribes. We have been caught between the Uyghur and the Tang empires for hundreds of years.”
Her usual airy tone vanished. “So there are other tribes that support this other marriage.” She frowned and her expression took on a serious, calculating look that he’d never seen on her before. “I thought everything was already decided.”
His mood darkened. “So did I.”
At that moment, her horse faltered a step and the princess fell slightly behind. She was inadvertently pulling back on the reins, signaling her horse to slow. He started to remind her to relax her hold, but the section of the caravan before them had come to a stop.
One of the horses had become agitated. The rider worked to steady the animal while the other Khitan horsemen soothed their mounts. Kwan-Li scanned the area and saw the remains of a fresh animal carcass. Signs of a wolf attack with the smell of blood still in the air. It should have been nothing more than a routine distraction, but the princess was still fighting to regain control. Her horse snorted, his hooves stamping the ground in agitation.
Kwan-Li sensed disaster before it struck. The horse shook his head defiantly and suddenly reared up. His front legs lifted from the ground and the princess shrieked. The scream set the horse off and he bolted off toward the open plain in a storm of dust.
He cursed and set off after her. The beast was head down in a full run. An-Ming was reduced to a small huddled figure clinging to the saddle. As he came nearer, he could see her clutching on to the horse’s mane. She cried out for help, but her distress only made matters worse.
He