The China Bride

control shattered and passion claimed her, body, mind, and voice.

As her breath slowed toward normal, he locked his arms around her and rolled again so that he was above. He allowed himself half a dozen slow strokes, exquisite almost beyond endurance, withdrawing barely in time. His climax left him panting and half-paralyzed with pleasure and exhaustion.

'You, my dear girl,' he groaned, 'are learning the ways of lovemaking far faster and better than I am learning tai chi.'

She gave a rich chuckle that reverberated against his chest. 'Then you must be a better teacher than I.'

He rolled to his side, glad that they'd managed to end up on the. blanket, since he was too drained to move. 'Or you are a better pupil.'

She slid her knee between his and relaxed with a sigh of pleasure. 'How splendid to be well suited.'

Well suited was an understatement. He hadn't felt such physical fulfillment in years. Perhaps never- He cut off the thought. The past had no place in this moment.

They lay twined together until it began to rain. Drops of water fell through the light holes above to patter on the floor. Dreamily Troth said, 'The poets call intercourse 'clouds and rain' because that's a symbol of the mating of heaven and earth. Clouds rise up from the earth to meet the rains descending from heaven.'

'You mean that some of the pretty Chinese nature paintings I have are actually symbolic sexual union?'

'It's a favorite subject for artists.'

'I can see why.' He stretched. 'But now it's time to break camp and set off again, though I'm not sure if I have the strength to stand up, much less trek all day.'

'There is a Chinese practice that might interest you.' She sat up on crossed legs and began to comb her hair. 'When men join with their wives and concubines, they usually do not release their ching-their seed. This conserves the yang, their male essence, so they may couple again and again without exhaustion, drawing strength from the female yin essence.'

'Really?' He took over the combing so that he could bury his hands in her lush tresses. She tilted her head back trustingly as he worked the tangles loose. He took his time, enjoying the task, for he'd missed this kind of gentle domesticity as much as he'd missed having a beloved sleeping partner.

'I can't imagine how it works,' she confessed, 'but I'm told that when a man masters this technique, it creates both great pleasure and remarkable endurance.'

He tried to imagine how that could be done. Perhaps it might be… possible. 'Did you learn of this from your friend Ling-Ling?'

'She was an excellent source of information,' Troth said demurely. 'But there were also many books in Chenqua's library.'

'I saw such a book in Canton.' It had been passed around with leers and embarrassed snickers after dinner one night, along with the port. 'I couldn't read the words, of course, but the pictures would be considered pornography in Europe.'

She frowned. 'Fan-qui men are like giggling boys when it comes to sexual relations. Taoism teaches that fulfilling sexuality is essential to a harmonious life, so there are many texts describing how to achieve it.'

Perhaps that was why Troth had an openness about sex that would be unthinkable in a European virgin. 'You didn't describe this part of Taoist theory. Tell me more.'

'Females have endless yin essence, so a man should prolong their union to absorb as much as possible,' she explained. 'It's important to join with those of a happy, loving temperament, because lovers absorb energy from each other, and one doesn't wish to take on tainted energy.' She smiled mischievously. 'It is essential for a man to fulfill his partner, because that way he will gain the greatest yin from her.'

He began braiding her silky hair into a queue. 'I can see why Chinese women approve of this philosophy. But what about households where men have several wives and concubines?'

'To be truly master of his house, a man must keep all his women satisfied. That is why he withholds his ching, so he can fulfill his obligations. Ten times a night is considered a good number.'

He gasped. 'How many men perform regularly at that level?'

'Not too many, I suspect, but that's the traditional ideal. The books say that withholding yang produces a very powerful fulfillment called the Plateau of Delight. Releasing seed should be done only from desire to make a baby. That is called the Peak of Ching.'

Enchanted by her scholarly manner, he said, 'Fascinating. I shall have to experiment.' And if Troth was right about the Plateau of Delight, he would be able to find his pleasure without withdrawing. European sexual practice was beginning to look downright crude by comparison.

She glanced over her shoulder with a delicious smile. 'I should think that learning how to do this would require much practice.'

He grinned back at her. What a splendid, splendid prospect.

Chapter 21

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England

December 1832

Troth's trunk of personal belongings arrived at Warfield Park two days before her hosts' annual Christmas ball. She'd thought the trunk must have been lost, but apparently it had just come on a slower ship than hers.

After the departure of the footmen who'd delivered the trunk, she knelt and unlocked it. Inside were mementos of her Chinese life, just as she'd packed them in the Elliott hong. Sadly she took out the embroidered scarlet gown that Kyle had given her. She had been so excited and pleased at his generosity. She set the folded gown aside, regretting that she'd never had the chance to wear it for him.

She rummaged through her possessions and retrieved the dozen of her father's books that she'd managed to keep after his death. She found comfort in lining them up on the shelf usually occupied by volumes borrowed from the Warfield library. Belongings helped define who one was.

A knock signaled the arrival of Meriel and her maid. 'Time to prepare you for the ball,' the countess announced. 'The seamstresses worked all night to finish your gown.'

Troth admitted them, bracing herself to be buffed and polished. She would have preferred to hide in her room and read during the ball, but couldn't. Though no one had said so in as many words, the ball was being used by the Renbournes to make a public statement that they had accepted her as a member of the family.

While Meriel curled up in a chair, the maid set to work on Troth's hair in a style ironically known as a la Chinoise , which meant brushing the hair back into a braided chignon, with delicate curls at brow and temples. Though the style wasn't very Chinese, with flowers from Meriel's conservatory woven into the chignon, the effect was pretty.

Next came the undergarments, including the padded stays necessary under an evening gown. Troth endured the tightening of the laces stoically. Europeans condemned Chinese foot binding, but any society that had invented the corset had a lot to answer for.

Last of all, the evening gown was dropped over her head and the ties pulled to mold it to Troth's figure. Much discussion had gone into choosing the fabric.

Mrs. Marks, one of Meriel's aunts-except that it turned out she was not an aunt, but some sort of cousin-had explained the rules of mourning to Troth. The death of a spouse required twelve months of sober clothing and behavior. Unlike China, where white was the color of mourning, here garments of dull black must be worn for six months, and the mourner should avoid social activities. After that came 'second mourning,' which could include somber grays or lavenders and touches of white.