Capturing the Silken Thief by Jeannie Lin Read Free Book Online Page A

parted enticingly to reveal the pale skin of her throat. She shook her head.
    “Please.”
    “You’d have to pay me and I know you have no cash left.”
    “Once I pass the imperial exams, I’ll have you play for me every night.”
    Rose grew very still all of a sudden. With stiff movements, she turned to place the pipa by the side of the bed, her face purposely angled away.
    “Rose?”
    “Once you pass, you can host a great celebration banquet and invite any musician you wish.” She made a move as if to rise. He had to reach across the bed to take hold of her arm.
    “Rose, wait,” he implored, as gently as he could.
    “It’s rather late.” Her voice sounded muted.
    Rose’s back presented an impenetrable wall. He could make out the rise of her shoulder blades beneath the silk.
    “I’ve said something wrong.” What had he done to ruin things? Just moments earlier, they’d been happy together. At least he’d thought so.
    “You need to sleep, oh brilliant scholar,” she said in a tone that was meant to be light.
    “But we haven’t even had the wine,” he said in a tone that wasn’t meant to be desperate.
    “Save it to celebrate after the exams.”
    “Please stay. We’ll sleep, just…just stay.”
    He soothed his hand down her back. Anything to heal the rift. Rose answered by lowering herself back onto the bed, still never looking directly at him. He left her that barrier as he folded himself in behind her. His arm found her waist. Her body only conceded after a pause, curving back to fit against him.
    Carefully, he brushed her hair back from her neck, making a place for his head beside hers. They lay together in silence and he could hardly believe that only moments earlier there had been music in the room. And laughter shortly before that.
    “I didn’t know you could play with such emotion,” he said.
    His lips caressed the spot behind her ear. He wanted to show her he wasn’t just a country oaf. Rose had become as fragile as a paper doll in his arms.
    “There’s nothing emotional about it,” she said. “I just practise. Practise all the time, until my fingers bleed.”
    She sounded distant and he didn’t want to argue, but he remembered how her song had filled him. It had to move her the same way. Or maybe he was being one of those overly romantic scholars. He could hear Rose laughing at him over that.
    Yet he was certain she’d poured herself into that song. There was no bitterness or cynicism there. For a moment she had opened herself up to him. It was hard to imagine that Rose could be fragile beneath her hard exterior. He closed his eyes and held her until she was asleep.
     
    Jia woke with one half of her exposed to chilled air. The other half was pressed up against a large, warm mass of muscle from which an elbow protruded to dig into her side. Her hands were clutched onto the edge of the wool blanket in what was clearly a losing battle.
    The dark of the room and the strangeness of the surroundings pressed down on her. The world outside was quiet which meant it was still early. The streets of Changan hadn’t yet woken. She lay still, one arm warm and one arm cold, while she listened to the steady rumble of Cheng’s breathing.
    His presence tempted her. There was peace and comfort here, close enough to touch. Desire, hope, and fulfillment. A hundred more things she couldn’t yet know. She closed her eyes and let herself indulge in the fantasy, but that was all it was. Every song girl and courtesan dreamed about having a wealthy patron, but she didn’t want to be anyone’s servant. Especially not Luo Cheng’s after what they had shared.
    With a sigh, she surrendered the battle and let go of the blanket. Her pipa was by the bed, her slippers should be somewhere close. She reached over the side and felt along the floor with one hand to locate them. Pulling the edges of her robe together, she started to slide from the bed.
    “Hey.”
    A drowsy murmur startled her. Jia found herself