Silk, Swords And Surrender: The Touch of Moonlight / The Taming of Mei Lin / The Lady's Scandalous Night / An Illicit Temptation / Capturing the Silken Thief. Jeannie Lin
so many years of growing up in close quarters.
There was a moment of stillness as Baozhen positioned himself. Lian’s chest rose and fell rapidly. His ragged breath formed an irregular harmony against hers, as if they had been chasing one another and the hunt was finally done. Done, but not finished.
Baozhen kept his eyes on her face the entire time as he entered her, refusing to relinquish her gaze even when she moaned and clung to him. Her body resisted for only a moment, and then her back arched as the length of him filled her in an endless sensation of penetration and surrender.
He began to move slowly over her. A sheen of sweat formed on his brow as his body lifted and lowered. It was different from last time. Now that she knew what would happen she focused on the feel of Baozhen inside her and let it consume her.
His hips shifted by the barest angle, but it was the difference between heaven and earth. Her lips parted with a gasp as a flood of euphoria swept through her from head to toe.
“Like that?” His breath was hot against her ear as his thrusts sent wave after wave of pleasure through her.
Lian held on to his shoulders and buried her face against his neck as their bodies writhed together, seeking oblivion. It was almost there—just out of reach.
She wrapped her legs around him and Baozhen groaned, his thrusts becoming shorter, deeper.
Soon. Soon, please, soon.
Her vision blackened as climax took her and she squeezed her eyes shut to revel in it. Baozhen was right there with her, letting himself go as soon as he felt the pulse of her body around him, falling as hard and completely as she had.
Finally his muscles loosened and he sank on top of her. For a few moments his weight was welcome, but soon he started to feel heavy and she tried to squirm out from under him. With a chuckle, Baozhen rolled onto his back and took her with him, settling her into the crook of his arm. She drew a lazy pattern over his chest, feeling warm and sated.
“Do you think our parents always wanted us to be wed?” Lian asked after a short silence. She had been enjoying the sound of Baozhen’s heartbeat against her ear.
“They must have gotten impatient waiting.”
She poked at his ribs. “Waiting for you,” she said ruefully.
Baozhen burst into laughter—a deep, rich laughter that filled the room.
“What is it?” she asked, but soon she was caught up in it, laughing as well.
She knew exactly what it was: chasing each other in the alleyway as children, Baozhen taunting her for being skinny, her aiming at him with her slingshot. All those moments...all those memories.
“I loved you from the first moment I saw you,” he said.
“Liar.” She settled back into the warm hollow of his shoulder now that he was no longer shaking with laughter. “You never noticed me.”
“But I did—I always did.”
She pouted a little. That wasn’t how it had happened at all, but all the frustration and endless longing seemed far away with his arms around her. Baozhen had always been there. Their lives intertwined.
“I can’t remember it any other way,” he said tenderly.
She snuggled close and followed the drift of his voice into sleep. All her memories blended together until it seemed there was truth in what he said.
“That’s how it was for me, as well,” she conceded, smiling at the thought of how mercilessly he’d teased her and how she had once hated him with a passion. “From the very first moment.”
* * * * *
THE TAMING OF MEI LIN
Sometimes it feels like it takes a village to put a story to paper!
Special thanks to the emergency brainstorming crew: Eileen Dreyer, Kimberly Killion, Patricia Rice and Karyn Witmer-Gow. And also the Tuesday critique group: Dawn Blankenship, Amanda Berry, Kristi Lea and Shawntelle Madison.
I’m a lucky girl to be surrounded by so many talented friends.
In Chinese culture it’s natural to speak of ancestors as if they’re still present, looking over your shoulder to nod in approval at good decisions and frown over disastrous ones. The role of family is inescapable, ubiquitous and ever-present. Of course this is true for all cultures. Our family histories inspire and guide us.
Ai Li, the heroine of Butterfly Swords for Mills & Boon Historical Romance, constantly refers back to her ancestors and the importance of family honour. The Taming of Mei Lin takes place forty years before Butterfly Swords and tells that love story—the family story that’s passed down for generations to come. In order to create Ai Li’s story of rebellion and impossible love, I always had Mei Lin’s adventure in my head.
I was thrilled to be able to bring that story to life. The Taming of Mei Lin explores the humble beginnings of the Shen family, a line of warriors steeped in duty and honour and, most importantly, love. Writing Mei Lin’s tale allowed me to explore the delicate ways that the past affects the future. It was also an opportunity to tie two love stories near and dear to my heart together.
Contents
Tang Dynasty China, 710 AD
Mei Lin could feel the strands of hair slipping from her knot, tickling against her neck. Uncle made her stand outside during the hottest part of the afternoon, even when there were no customers. She wiped her brow and looked over at Chang’s tofu stand at the end of the street with envy. He at least had the shade of a tree to duck under.
If she planted a seed today, she reckoned she’d still be here selling noodles by the time the tree grew tall enough to provide shelter. And Uncle would still be growing fat, napping in the shade.
A tingle of awareness pricked against her neck. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see someone had stopped just beyond the line of the wooden benches. The stranger wore a gray robe, but that was the only thing plain about him. He had the high cheekbones of the people of the north and stood with his shoulders back, lean and tall. Unfortunately the town riffraff stood just behind him, grinning and poking at each other over some boyish joke only they found humorous. Mei Lin ignored them as she always did.
“Little Cho.”
The boy came eagerly running at her call. Her little cousin was not yet corrupted by his father’s laziness.
“Fetch the tea,” she said and he went running to the stove.
She turned back to the intriguing