her stockinged foot trod on a ceramic cup. A spasm of pain crossed her face; she instinctively looked down. Sano seized the advantage and threw himself upon her.
“Scum!” he shouted, slamming her against the wall. Outside he heard his servants’ concerned murmurs, but knew they wouldn’t enter without his permission. “Liar!”
Aoi writhed and twisted in his grasp. Her fingernails raked his face; her knees gouged his thighs. Pressing his body against hers to hold her still, Sano snatched for Aoi’s flailing hands.
“So I lied!” she shouted. “I was practicing at the training ground. Like I do every night. I saw the guards chasing you. I followed them, and saved you. Because I liked and pitied you. For this you abuse me. I should have let you die!”
She ducked her head, sank her teeth into his shoulder, and spat his blood straight into his face.
Goaded beyond self-control, Sano raised his hand to hit her. Then he became aware of her breasts pushing against his chest, her hips crushing his loins. Desire surged up through his anger. His manhood sprang erect in a stunning bolt of pleasure. For the first time, he understood how fear and anger can invoke lust.
Heedless of Aoi’s lethal hands, Sano reached down and jerked her sash loose. Thrusting against her, he yanked at her kimono. The garment came away, baring her body. The sight of her breasts-as round, full, and large of nipple as he’d imagined- drove him to thrust harder. By taking her, he wasn’t just exacting revenge upon the woman who had duped him, but expressing his ingrained hatred toward her kind. The ninja: demonic, dishonorable mercenaries who chose the dark, evil, and secretive methods of attack, and who represented everything his samurai upbringing had taught him to abhor.
Savagely Sano twined his fingers in Aoi’s hair and yanked. It tumbled down, scattering pins and combs. Forcing her head back, he brought his mouth to her breast. Ferociously he suckled, biting the nipple, experiencing an excitement he’d never known before.
Aoi screamed. Her elbows and knees jabbed his body, unerringly finding the bruises. Sano cried out, but less from pain than the shocked realization that she welcomed his abuse even as she returned it. She didn’t repel his assault as he knew she could. The nipple in his mouth was hard. While one of her hands continued to strike him, the other was between their bodies, frantically tearing the loincloth away from his erection. Sano knew that for both of them, at this moment, hatred and pain were no less aphrodisiac than fear and anger.
Now Aoi’s legs circled his waist in a crushing embrace. Sano released her hair, her breast. He carried her over to the futon and flung her down upon it, landing on top of her with a floor-shaking thud.
Without pausing to recover, Aoi seized his erection and brought it to her naked crotch. Sano moaned as he plunged into wet, silken heat. The exquisite sensation nearly brought him to climax. Resisting, he hammered his pelvis against hers, wanting to have, wanting to hurt. Aoi only arched her back, meeting his thrusts. Emitting harsh, breathy cries, she clamped her hands down on his buttocks, forcing him deeper. Sano let loose his control. He thrust harder. He felt her inner muscles tighten around him, saw her eyes close. His own shout joined her scream as his pleasure crested. Time stopped while his body shuddered with violent ecstasy; the world disappeared. Then, satiated and exhausted, he collapsed onto his elbows. He opened his eyes.
Beneath him, Aoi lay motionless. All the tension had gone from her body, all anger and hatred from her eyes, leaving only a wistful sadness. Even as he resisted her, Sano felt again that affinity for Aoi, the desire for
Sano let the breath gust from him in a long, sorrowful sigh, then rolled off Aoi to lie on his back. A vast mental and physical exhaustion overwhelmed him. The pain in his spirit echoed that of his wounds. He hadn’t realized how much warmth and promise Aoi’s presence had lent his lonely existence. Now the promise was gone, destroyed by her treachery. Flinging an arm across his eyes, Sano succumbed to desolation.
“Just tell me something,” he said wearily.
He heard a rustle; in his mind’s eye, he saw Aoi rise and don her fallen kimono. The floor creaked as she knelt a few paces- an unbridgeable distance-from him.
“When we last met, you wanted me as much as I wanted you.” Never having spoken his feelings so frankly to anyone, he forced the words past the barrier of his natural reticence. “And not just with your body, but… ”
The phrase “with your soul” seemed embarrassingly sentimental and refused to leave his tongue. “Didn’t you?”
No answer. Letting his arm drop, Sano turned his face and saw Aoi kneeling with her back toward him, saw her bow her head in silent, defeated assent.
“So then how could you try to ruin me?” Sano heard the hardness in his own voice.
Still Aoi didn’t speak, but her shoulders trembled.
Sano sat up and put on his own kimono, which he found lying beside the bed; with the spurious intimacy of their coupling gone, the room seemed cold and nakedness shameful. Then, too sore to walk, he dragged himself across the floor to sit before her.
Her expressionless features had a rigidity that revealed an immense effort to maintain her composure. The tendons stood out in her throat; her eyelids quivered. Sano realized that she was weeping-soundlessly, tearlessly. Even after the bitter disappointment of her betrayal, he couldn’t remain unmoved by this brave denial of grief that would do any samurai proud. He touched her cheek, his hand clumsy with unpracticed tenderness.
“What’s wrong?”
Aoi’s trembling ended in a violent spasm. Then she grew still, gazing into the distance.
“Sometimes, while I sleep in my hut outside the Momijiyama, I have dreams of running away,” she said in a low, unsteady voice. “In them, I shave my head and dress in nun’s robes. I leave the castle at daybreak and begin walking. Over the highways by day, begging alms from fellow travelers. By night, crossing fields and sleeping in caves and forests. Eating plants, nuts, and small game. For however long it takes to reach my home and family.”
Sano imagined her moving across the countryside like a slim, anonymous shadow. His sympathy stirred in spite of himself. Once a fugitive, he’d known the same homesick yearning he saw in her.
“But then I wake up, and the dream ends,” Aoi said dully. “I know I can never leave. The Tokugawa would send troops to kill me and my clan and burn our village. Just as samurai have always done to get cooperation from the ninja.”
Now her eyes focused on Sano, and a hint of anger reappeared in them. “We’ve fought your wars. We’ve assassinated your enemies, infiltrated their camps, risked our lives to bring you victory. And now that there’s no war, still you won’t leave us in peace.
“You forced my father to send me, as a young girl of fourteen, to spy on and ruin your rivals. You force me to spend my life in enslavement. For me to abandon this duty, which you so despise, would bring death to my people. And for my effort to protect my family-as you would yours-you call me dirty. Dishonorable.”
Sano shook his head as his perception shifted. Never before had he considered what his class and hers had in common. The Tokugawa had subjugated them both. The ninja served less willingly, because at greater personal cost for fewer rewards. They reaped no glory for their deeds. But there was honor in Aoi’s courage, her devotion to her family, her stoic acceptance of suffering. And there was good in her character: She’d saved his life.
“I’m sorry,” Sano said, meaning the apology as an expression of forgiveness and understanding as well.
When he took her hand, her fingers stiffened, then curled around his for a moment before withdrawing. Her gaze dropped, but his gesture and her acceptance of it affirmed a love that knew no class barriers, observed no conventions, withheld no intimacy. This, Sano thought with a passionate, joyful certainty, was what he wanted with a woman.
Bitter irony tinged Aoi’s husky laugh. “What would Chamberlain Yanagisawa say if he could see us together now-his agent, and the man he seeks to destroy?”
Leaden dismay settled in Sano’s stomach. “So it was the chamberlain who ordered you to ruin my investigation. More evidence of his guilt.”
“Chamberlain Yanagisawa is a murder suspect?”
Aoi’s sharp query startled Sano out of his gloom. “Yes,” he admitted, explaining how he’d reached that conclusion. Though he still didn’t trust her, it couldn’t hurt to tell her what Yanagisawa already knew.
When he finished, Aoi sat perfectly still, but with an intensity to her gaze that belied her calm demeanor.
“Then… if the chamberlain is guilty… he’ll be executed?” Dawning hope hushed her voice.
