Free An Illicit Temptation by Jeannie Lin Page A

been in the girl’s
place, dressing and tending to her own mistress.
    Pearl had been more than her mistress. They shared the same
father, though the two of them had never acknowledged that they were related by
blood. Pearl’s mother was First Wife while Dao’s mother was a household servant
who was never even a concubine. Pearl had been chosen by the imperial court to
go to Khitan, but when she ran away with her lover, Dao had taken her place.
    Marriage to a chieftain was a better future than she had ever
hoped for. It didn’t matter that her husband was much older than her or that she
had to leave her home behind. These were small sacrifices. She was very
fortunate, she had to remember that.
    When Dao emerged from the tent, the caravan was in the process
of repacking. Kwan-Li oversaw everything with quiet efficiency. He had the
respect of the nomads and spoke their language with impressive fluency. She
could see why he objected to the small delay she had caused. There was nothing
simple about managing all the wagons and trunks and people.
    Ruan, the eldest of the Khitans, was waiting with her horse,
saddled and ready as she had commanded.
    “Old Wolf,” she greeted.
    “Dragoness,” he returned cheerfully.
    Ruan had been given the nickname due to a wolf attack that had
left ragged scars across the right side of his face. He was old, grizzled and
surprisingly good-natured, making frequent use of what remained of his smile. As
one of the few tribesmen who spoke Han, he’d quickly become her favorite.
    It was Kwan-Li, however, who came to help her onto the saddle.
She braced her foot into his hands and had to grab onto his shoulders as she
wobbled. The sudden press of his body against hers startled her. He was made of
hard, unyielding muscle. As he lifted her, their eyes met briefly and her face
flushed with heat. Princesses shouldn’t get embarrassed so easily, should they?
His expression was serious, his movements brusque. After a few moments of
struggle and indignity, she was able to seat herself. Kwan-Li lifted himself
onto his horse with a natural grace that she envied.
    “Stay beside me,” he instructed.
    Dao held her back straight and tried to relax into position,
determined to show him she wasn’t entirely incompetent. It was said the children
of Khitan could sit on horseback before they could walk. If she was to live
among them, she had to be able to do something even the youngest among them
found to be second nature.
    Kwan-Li guided her toward the center of the line and rode
beside her as the caravan started moving once again in its endless trek across
the planes. Dao had grown up in the city where distance was measured by wards
and divided by gates. Out here there were no walls, no streets, and the
grassland seemed to go on forever. An expanse of blue sky hovered over them and
a cool breeze swirled around her. There was something meditative about the
rhythm of the horse beneath her and the feeling of being suspended between
heaven and earth. No boundaries existed.
    “You’re displeased,” she said when Kwan-Li remained silent and
brooding. Yes, brooding was what it was, the way he stared into the distance and
purposefully avoided even looking at her, though they rode side by side.
    “Of course not, Princess,” he said.
    “What’s the loss of one hour in a month-long journey?”
    “Indeed.” A terse pause followed. “Princess.”
    She wouldn’t go so far as to call him rude. He was the court’s
appointed official and treated her with deference, yet he had always been
distant toward her. Almost cold in nature. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted this
appointment. It was common knowledge in the imperial city that Khitan was a
wild, uncivilized land.
    “I can demand you explain yourself,” she said lightly, only
teasing in part. He was one of the few people who would speak openly to her on
the journey. He seemed to be in a particularly bad mood when all she wanted to
do was enjoy the touch of the breeze