Mary Putney - The China Bride

Troth was almost within touching distance of Scouse's broad back when the sea captain pivoted, alerted by the sound of her footfalls. He had his gun in his hands, but for a critical instant, he simply stared, apparently unable to believe she was a threat.

She knocked the rifle from his hands with a vicious kick. It clattered onto stone before spinning outward over the abyss. As he shouted, she punched his throat but did little damage-his neck was a rock-hard column of beefy muscle.

"You little Chink bitch!" Murder in his eyes, he stalked forward.

As she waited for his attack, she prayed to all the gods of East and West for the strength to win the most difficult fight of her life.

Hearing shouts, Kyle dropped to his knees and peered out the door, hoping that keeping his head low would spare his brains from being blown out if Logan and Scouse had their rifles trained on the door.

The first thing he saw was the barrel of Logan's gun. His second sight was Troth in a life-or-death struggle with Scouse up on the wall-walk. Kyle's heart seemed to stop. She looked like a child next to the raging sea captain. Though she was evading his blows deftly, Scouse would break her in half if he managed to connect.

As she danced backward, Scouse dived forward with a bellow, counting on his weight to pin her helplessly beneath him. She leaped up into a crenellation and kicked him, using his momentum to smash him down on the narrow stone walkway.

But the sea captain had learned to brawl in the world's most dangerous ports, and he knew his share of dirty tricks. He lunged for her ankle and yanked her from her feet. Kyle could hear the impact when she slammed onto the wall-walk, critically close to falling a dozen feet into the courtyard.

Troth flipped backward out of his grip, then scrambled to her feet as Scouse did the same. Belatedly hearing the commotion, Logan whirled to investigate what was happening above him. His rifle turned with him, and he immediately aimed it at Troth. Understanding the danger, she closed with Scouse so Logan would have to hold his shots, or risk hurting his captain.

But Logan fired anyhow. As Kyle started to sprint across the courtyard, Scouse jerked from the impact of a bullet. A second bullet slammed into his body. Troth flattened herself on the stone walkway as Scouse pitched backward over the wall, his long, drawn-out scream ending with sickening abruptness.

But the battlement gave Troth no protection from Logan. As he trained his rifle on her, she dived from the walkway into the courtyard, dropping into the narrow area between the guardhouse and the south wall.

Instantly, Logan was rushing to block her exit from the trap she'd landed in. It took him only a few strides to have her in his sights again.

Troth rushed forward in a doomed attempt to reach Logan before he could fire. Kyle shouted desperately, "Logan, you're a dead man!"

As he'd hoped, Logan spun about to face the new threat. The barrel of his rifle looked enormous as he raised the gun and pulled the trigger. Kyle dived to one side, firing his pistol when he was in midair.

Troth screamed as three gunshots echoed deafeningly around the courtyard. Logan spun about, blood blooming scarlet on his white shirt. Slowly, joint by joint, he collapsed, the rifle tumbling from his grip.

Troth threw the rifle to one side in case Logan still lived, then dropped beside Kyle as another blast of rain struck. "You can't die, my lord, you can't ."

As she tried to roll him over to see where he was wounded, he dropped the pistol and wrapped his arms around her. "I don't intend to," he panted. "Dear God, Troth, are you all right? I thought my heart would stop on the spot when he began shooting at you."

They lay locked together, oblivious to the pounding rain. "He missed," she said unsteadily. "But how could he? He shot three times at point-blank range."

"Twice. I dived to avoid his bullets and fired my pistol at the same time." Kyle sat up, still holding her with bruising force.

The steely determination that had kept her going through the last hellish half hour collapsed. Troth began to shake violently, her tears mingling with the rain.

Kyle held her until her trembling had abated a little. "We should go to the chapel, it has the only roof up here. Can you walk?" When she nodded, he stood and helped her to her feet. "Wait here for a moment."

Numbly she watched as he checked the merchant's body for a pulse.

"Justice has caught up with Caleb Logan," Kyle said grimly. He rose and crossed to the keep, emerging a moment later with her plaid.

Slinging an arm around her shoulders, he guided her down the slippery slope to the lowest castle level. She asked through chattering teeth, "How did you manage to shoot him at that range? I thought the pistol wasn't accurate over a distance."

"I'm a very good shot," he said simply.

She should have guessed that. Grateful to have an arm around his waist, she stumbled along at his side until they reached the sanctuary of the chapel. Not only was it a welcome respite from the rain, but the blessed calm of harmonious chi enfolded Troth like the long-ago memory of her mother's arms.

As soon as they were inside, Kyle started tugging off her sodden garments. Shocked from her numbness, she tried to stop him. "What are you thinking of?"

He smiled crookedly. "Not what you have in mind, you wicked wench. We're both soaked, and the way the temperature has dropped, we risk pneumonia if we don't get warmed up quickly."

Realizing he was right, she said, "I can manage. Take your own clothes off."

He obeyed, pausing only when she was down to bare skin to wrap the nearly dry plaid around her icy flesh. The scratchy wool helped, but she was still shivering from a chill so deep it was painful.

Then he stripped off the last of his own saturated clothing. Since he'd left the basket here earlier, the picnic blanket was dry. He pulled it around his shoulders, slid to a sitting position against the wall, and drew her down onto his lap. When she was cradled against him, he folded the blanket around them both, tucking it carefully around her feet.

She burrowed into his warm body and rested her cheek against the silky hair of his chest. His familiar scent made her feel safe.

He rocked her gently, and for a long time neither of them spoke, the only sound the drumming rain on the roof. She guessed that like her, Kyle was recovering from the shocking violence and death they'd barely survived.

He was far less chilled than she, and gradually his warmth began to thaw her. In a whisper, she said, "I can hardly believe that two men are lying dead out there in the rain."

"I wish to God this had never happened," he said tightly. "When I think that what I said in Canton caused repercussions that reached halfway around the world and almost killed you…" His embrace tightened.

She opened her eyes to free herself of the vision of Logan pitching backward, blood spurting from his chest. "But we survived, and I can't be sorry Logan is dead. If not for his false message, my father might still be alive."

He stroked her nape and back, kneading a little in a way that made her numb flesh come alive again. "I can't be sorry about either of them," he said. "I don't doubt that Scouse had committed more than his share of sins. As for Logan-not only was he indirectly responsible for your father's death, but his actions sent you into near-slavery in China when you could have been here and loved by your family."

She thought of what it would have been like to grow up with her father's family: scones and barley soup, cousins who would have become as close as brothers and sisters. Acceptance. "Living with them would have been wonderful, and far easier than my life in China," she said slowly. "And yet… I can't be sorry that my path took me to Canton instead. If I had not lived there for so many years, I would have lost most of my Chinese nature. Now I am truly both Chinese and Scottish."