“Huh!” May-may said and tossed her head. “You’re just lustful mendacity and you do na adore your old mother any more.”
“True,” Struan said, teasing her. She looked more beautiful than ever, and the gauntness of her face seemed to suit her. “I think I’ll pack you off!”
“Ayeee yah! See if I care!”
He laughed and lifted her up in his arms.
“Be careful, Tai-Pan,” she said. “Did you enjoy Yin-hsi? I’m so pleased you did. I can tell.”
“How would you like to be Tai-tai?”
“Wat?”
“Well, if you’re na interested, that’s the last we’ll say about it.”
“Oh no, Tai-Pan! You mean Tai-tai? Real Tai-tai, according to customs? Oh, you’re na teasing me? Please dinna tease me about so important thing.”
“I’m na teasing, May-may.” He sat on the chair with her in his arms. “We’re going home. Together. We’ll take the first clipper available and be married on the way home. In a few months.”
“Oh, wonderful.” She hugged him. “Let me go a minute.”
He released her, and wobbling slightly, she walked over to the bed. “There. I am almost well again.”
“You get into bed now,” he said.
“You really mean marry? According to your customs? And to mine?”
“Aye. Both, if you wish.”
She knelt gracefully in front of him and touched her forehead to the carpet and kowtowed. “I swear I will be worthy to be Tai-tai.”
He raised her up quickly and put her into the bed. “Dinna do that, lassie.”
“I kowtow because you give me the hugest fantastical great face on earth.” She hugged him again and then pushed him away a little and laughed. “How you like birthday present, heya? Is that why you marry your poor old mother?”
“Nay and aye. It’s just the thought.”
“She’s nice. I like her very gracious much. I’m glad you like her too.”
“Where did you find her?”
“She was a concubine in a house of a mandarin who died six months ago. Did I tell you she was eighteen? His house felt on bad times, so Tai-tai asked a marriage broker to find a good match for her. I heard about her and interviewed her.”
“When? In Macao?”
“Oh no. Two, three months ago.” May-may snuggled closer. “I talk to her in Canton. Jin-qua’s Tai-tai tol’ me about her. When I became with child I thought, Ah, very good, so I sent for her. Because my man is lustful and instead of staying home perhaps goes to whorehouse. You promise na to go, but last night you go whorehouse. Dirty turtle droppings!”
“I did na go with one of the girls. Just to see Aristotle.”
“Huh!” May-may shook a finger in his face. “That’s your story. I dinna mind whores but na those ones. Oh very well, this time I’ll believe you.”
“Thank you kindly.”
“Yin-hsi is special nice, so no need for whorehouses. Oh, I feel so happy. She sings beautiful and plays many instruments and sews nicely and very quick to learn. I teach her the English. She will come to England with us. And Ah Sam and Lim Din.” A slight frown. “But we come back home to China? Very often?”
“Aye. Maybe.”
“Good. We come back of course.” Again a little smile. “Yin-hsi is very accomplished. She is nice in bed?”
Struan’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “I did na make love, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Wat?”
“I like to choose who’s in my bed and when.”
“She’s in your bed and you dinna make love?”
“Aye.”
“I swear to God, Tai-Pan. I never understand you. You do na desire her?”
“Of course. But I decided today was na the time. Tonight maybe yes. Or tomorrow. When I choose. Na before. But I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
“I swear to God you’re peculiar. Or maybe you were just so exhausted with a dirty whore you could na respond. Eh?”
“Go on with you.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Aye?”
Lim Din padded in. “Tai-Pan, Mass’er here. See Tai-Pan. Can?”
“Mass’er wat?”
“Mass’er Penneewort.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Brock watched Struan climb the path that led up the knoll from the shadow of the roofless abandoned church. He saw the bunched fighting iron and felt somewhat nauseated. Yet he was glad that at long last there was to be a showdown.
He shifted the thong of his own fighting iron, stood up, and moved into the open. He grasped his knife with his left hand.
Struan saw Brock the instant he moved from the cover of the church and momentarily forgot the plan that he had decided upon. He stopped. All he could remember was that this was his enemy whom he must destroy. With an effort Struan cleared his head and continued to climb the path, his muscles quivering with the anxiety to begin.
At last the two men confronted each other.
“Thee planned elopement and duel, didn’t thee?” Brock snarled.
“Aye.” Struan let the bunched fighting iron fall. It jingled hatefully. Again he had to strain to recall what he had decided to say.
Brock gripped the haft of his fighting iron and eased forward a step and readied.
Only Struan’s eyes moved. “I’m sorry Gorth died the way he died,” Struan said. “I’d have enjoyed killing him.”
Brock made no answer. But he shifted his weight imperceptibly, the east wind ruffling his hair.
Struan’s dirk appeared in his left hand and he crouched slightly. “Tess be poxed.”
Brock stopped in his tracks. “She baint. Doctor sayed Culum were clean.”
“Doctors can be bought,” Struan said, feeling the blood lust swamping him. “She was poxed deliberately!”
“Why, you—” Brock swung the fighting iron viciously and lunged at Struan. The metal barb missed Struan’s eyes by only a fraction of an inch. Struan swayed back and hacked, but Brock sidestepped and they began to circle each other like two animals.
“By Gorth! That’s what Gorth planned,” Struan said. He wanted to have done with talking. “You hear? That was Gorth’s doing.”
Brock’s head was pounding. All he could think of was to close with the enemy and kill.
Again there was a violent skirmish, and again they flailed at each other with the fighting irons. Brock parried a knife slash by Struan, who twisted out of range and knew that he could not contain himself and back off much longer. “Gorth planned the pox!”
“God curse thy lies!” Brock stalked Struan slowly.
“Gorth gave Culum spiked liquor. And an aphrodisiac. Gorth paid a whorehouse to put him with a poxed woman. He wanted Culum poxed! That’s your cursed son. Understand?”
“Liar!”
“But by the grace of God, Culum’s na poxed—I only said it to make you understand why I wanted to kill Gorth. Culum’s na poxed. Tess neither.”
“Wot?”
“Aye. That’s the truth, before God.”
“Devil! Blasphemer! You lie afore God!”
Struan feinted and Brock backed and readied menacingly. But Struan did not hack with the weapon. He went through the open door of the derelict church and stood in front of the altar.