Court of Justice.” Reiko’s dainty chin trembled, but she didn’t yield before Sano’s disapproval. “I understand the law, and criminals. I can help figure out who killed Lady Harume.”
Growing up in Magistrate Ueda’s mansion, Reiko must have seen more criminals than Sano himself! Ashamed to be outdone by his young bride, Sano also hated to imagine what spectacles of violence and human depravity she’d witnessed. Worse, he hated the thought of allowing these elements of his work to intrude on his private life. How could home be a haven if Reiko shared his knowledge of the world’s evils?
“Please… calm down and let me explain,” Sano said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Detective work is dangerous. You could get hurt-or even killed.” This had happened to many other people during his past cases. His protective instincts rallied in protest against letting his own wife fall victim to his search for justice. “It would be wrong for me to let you have anything to do with the murder investigation.” With an air of finality, Sano resumed eating.
“You think I’m weak and stupid because I’m a woman,” Reiko persisted, “but I know how to fight. I can defend myself.” Ardor lit her lovely, petal-shaped eyes. “And since I am a woman, I can go places where you can’t. I can learn things from people who would never talk to you. Just give me a chance, and you’ll see!”
Now Sano grew angry. He recalled his docile mother cooking the foods her husband preferred, managing the household to accommodate his needs without ever asking anything for herself. In a samurai’s world of unstinting duty to the Tokugawa regime, his own home was the only domain under his absolute control. Now Sano felt this precious control slipping, his manly authority weakening in the face of Reiko’s challenge. Fatigue strained his patience. Although the last thing he wanted was a quarrel on his wedding night, his temper snapped.
“How dare you contradict your husband?” Sano demanded, throwing down his chopsticks. “How dare you even suggest that you, a silly, headstrong girl, can do anything better than I can?”
“Because I’m right!”
Reiko leapt to her feet, eyes sparking with a fury that matched Sano’s. Her tongue touched her chipped incisor; her hand went to her waist as if reaching for a sword. This unfeminine, aggressive response incensed Sano-and aroused him deeply. Anger turned Reiko’s delicate beauty into the raw, female power of a goddess. Her rapid breathing and flushed cheeks suggested sexual excitement. Despite Sano’s dislike of her impertinence, he admired her courageous spirit, yet he couldn’t believe her capable of investigating a murder-or let her undermine his masculinity by talking back to him. He shoved aside his tray and stood, glaring at his young wife.
“I order you to stay home where you belong, and not to interfere with my work,” he said, though aghast at the hostile turn their relationship had taken. He wanted them to be happy together, and hurting Reiko’s feelings wouldn’t achieve that. But what else could he do? “I’m your husband. You will obey me. And that’s final!”
Scorn narrowed Reiko’s eyes. “And what will you do if I disobey?” she demanded. “Beat me? Send me back to my father? Or kill me?” A bitter laugh burst from her throat. “I wish you would, because I’m sorry I married you. I’d rather die than submit to you or any other man!”
Her repudiation stabbed Sano like a knife to the heart. Wounded and furious, he experienced an overwhelming urge to assert his power by taking physical possession of her. His manhood sprang erect. He stepped forward and seized her shoulders.
At once, Reiko’s brave defiance dissolved. She shrank within Sano’s grasp. Towering over her, he felt the fragility of her bones. Terror filled her eyes, and he knew it wasn’t blows or death she feared. It was the crueler injury a man could inflict upon a woman-the personal assault on the most sensitive parts of her body. Yet as their gazes locked, Sano sensed in her an unfathomed appetite for that intimate, brutal engagement. Reiko’s lips were wet; her breaths came hard and fast. Before Sano shimmered a vision of the two of them naked and entwined, resolving all argument in the primitive mating rite. And he could tell from the shocked expression on Reiko’s face that she shared it-and wanted it-too.
Slowly Sano lifted his hand and touched her soft cheek. Their breath mingled for a long, tense moment. Then suddenly she twisted out of his grasp and ran from the room.
“Reiko. Wait!” Sano called.
Her rapid footsteps receded down the passage. A door slammed. His emotions in chaos, his body still engorged with desire, Sano stood frozen, hands holding the emptiness she’d left behind.
In the sanctuary of her private chamber, Reiko latched the door and breathed a tremulous sigh. Her heart still beat wildly in her breast; her muscles quaked. Feverish in her agitation, she hurried through the outer door and stepped onto the veranda.
A lopsided ivory moon poured soft illumination over the garden’s trees, boulders, and pavilion. Crickets chirped; dogs barked. Somewhere in the night, guards patrolled the estate and castle; footsteps, hoofbeats, and low voices carried through clear, cold air that smelled of frost and charcoal smoke. In chilly solitude Reiko paced, trying to sort out her tumultuous feelings.
How she hated Sano for disregarding her wishes, for mocking her intelligence and abilities! And how angry she was at herself for badly handling the situation. She should have taken things more slowly, playing the submissive wife and winning his affection before pleading her cause. But she sensed that it wouldn’t have made any difference. Sano was like all other men, and she’d been mad to think otherwise.
“Pompous, ignorant samurai!” she muttered, seething with anger. “Ordering me around as if I were a servant, or a child.” Beneath her anger was the leaden misery of disappointment. How naive and foolish seemed her dream of solving crimes and achieving glory. “Better that I should have committed seppuku than ever marry!”
As Reiko paced, a warm trickle of moisture slid down her inner thigh. Thinking she’d begun her monthly bleeding, she felt under her skirts. Her hand came up smeared with a clear, musk-scented secretion: the fluid of arousal, her body’s involuntary response to the confrontation with Sano. Horror gripped Reiko as she became aware of a heaviness in her lower abdomen, the dull, hot pulse between her legs. Crouching on the veranda, she faced the sum of her fears.
She didn’t fear beating, the common punishment for unruly wives- martial arts training had given her a high tolerance for pain-and she knew instinctively that Sano wasn’t the kind of man who would hurt a woman in anger. Yet she dreaded the sexual act, a battleground where nature had made her vulnerable to a man’s violation. And desire could make her the thrall of the husband who already owned her, destroying her precious independence.
Even so, she was terrified that Sano would divorce her. If he did, everyone would blame her for the marriage’s failure; no other man would have her. She and her family would suffer public humiliation. The specter of a bleak future as a disgraced spinster living on the charity of relatives loomed before Reiko. And despite her anger at Sano’s tyranny, she didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to experience love’s dangerous pleasures. Body and spirit yearned for it, even as her mind recoiled at the prospect of a life of domestic seclusion and boredom.
Reiko watched the branches of a tall pine capture the rising moon. Through the tangle of conflicting emotions she identified one certainty: She must make the marriage work-but on her own terms.
She went inside her chamber and knelt before her writing desk. On a shelf above it lay the swords she’d retrieved that afternoon. Reiko ground ink, readied paper, and took up her brush. Desperation strengthened her resolve. She would prove to Sano that a wife could be a detective. She would show him that it was in his best interest to make her a partner in his work instead of a glorified house slave. She would make him love her for herself, not for his idea of what she should be.
With her tongue touching her chipped tooth, Reiko began listing plans for her secret inquiry into the murder of Lady Harume.
Alone, Sano reluctantly decided against going after Reiko: In his current state of anger, confusion, and unsatisfied desire, he would only make things worse between them. He finished eating, though the food had grown cold and he’d lost his appetite. Wearily he rose, went to his room, and shed his clothes. In the bathchamber he scrubbed, rinsed, soaked in the tub, then wrapped himself in a cotton robe. He walked down the corridor, past the empty suite where he’d planned to spend his first night with his bride. Next door, the paper wall of her private chamber glowed with lamplight. Sano paused outside.
Reiko’s hazy shadow moved, shrugging off garments, combing her hair. She evidently intended to sleep there. Desire welled in Sano’s loins. Fierce possessiveness enflamed his anger. Despite their quarrel, she was his wife. He had the right to command her presence in the marriage bed. Sano grasped the door handle…
… then let his hand fall away, shaking his head as reason tempered angry lust. He could not subdue Reiko
