He mustn't plan his movements, since she could read his intent. Instead, he would think of that luscious mouth, that slender, flexible body, the generosity of her lovemaking.

Jettisoning conscious thought in favor of instinct, he dropped his arms, breaking the contact between their hands. Then he caught her around the waist and swept her from the floor. "Victory! Now there's another kind of two-person exercise we must work on."

Though she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, she panted, "They say it's dangerous to go from chi exercise to mating, my lord. The fire element might take over and damage one's internal organs."

He blinked, distracted by the vibrant female form in his arms. "Really?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "But I'm not sure I'd want to risk it."

He kissed the pulse in her throat. "Surely the danger will be past by the time I transport you to the chamber below."

She gave a gurgle of laughter. "I'm sure you are right, my lord." As he carried her down the passage to their bed, she nibbled his ear, purring like a cat.

Laughing, they tumbled down together, stripping off their garments so they were flesh to flesh. Her ivory skin was like satin, infinitely touchable. He tried to kiss every bit of it as his hands roamed over her, remembering what she'd liked most.

She was a symphony of slender limbs and gentle female curves, except for the glorious richness of her breasts. "You're more delectable than Chenqua's banquet," he said huskily. "A feast fit for a king."

"I wouldn't want a king, unless he made love as you do." She nipped his shoulder as her hips ground into his.

"Mei-Lian." He separated her legs with his knees. "Beautiful Willow."

He entered slowly, in case she was sore from the night before, but she refused gentleness. Marvelously fit and strong, her body heated from the wing chun exercises, she was like a tigress who demanded equal wildness from her mate. They rolled from the blankets to the floor, oblivious to the chill of the stone.

He came to rest on his back, holding her on top of him. She gasped when he let her set the tempo of their mating, radiating delight as she experienced a new range of sensations, and the power of being in control. Until control shattered and passion claimed her, body, mind, and voice.

As her breath slowed toward normal, he locked his arms around her and rolled again so that he was above. He allowed himself half a dozen slow strokes, exquisite almost beyond endurance, withdrawing barely in time. His climax left him panting and half-paralyzed with pleasure and exhaustion.

"You, my dear girl," he groaned, "are learning the ways of lovemaking far faster and better than I am learning tai chi."

She gave a rich chuckle that reverberated against his chest. "Then you must be a better teacher than I."

He rolled to his side, glad that they'd managed to end up on the. blanket, since he was too drained to move. "Or you are a better pupil."

She slid her knee between his and relaxed with a sigh of pleasure. "How splendid to be well suited."

Well suited was an understatement. He hadn't felt such physical fulfillment in years. Perhaps never- He cut off the thought. The past had no place in this moment.

They lay twined together until it began to rain. Drops of water fell through the light holes above to patter on the floor. Dreamily Troth said, "The poets call intercourse 'clouds and rain' because that's a symbol of the mating of heaven and earth. Clouds rise up from the earth to meet the rains descending from heaven."

"You mean that some of the pretty Chinese nature paintings I have are actually symbolic sexual union?"

"It's a favorite subject for artists."

"I can see why." He stretched. "But now it's time to break camp and set off again, though I'm not sure if I have the strength to stand up, much less trek all day."

"There is a Chinese practice that might interest you." She sat up on crossed legs and began to comb her hair. "When men join with their wives and concubines, they usually do not release their ching-their seed. This conserves the yang, their male essence, so they may couple again and again without exhaustion, drawing strength from the female yin essence."

"Really?" He took over the combing so that he could bury his hands in her lush tresses. She tilted her head back trustingly as he worked the tangles loose. He took his time, enjoying the task, for he'd missed this kind of gentle domesticity as much as he'd missed having a beloved sleeping partner.

"I can't imagine how it works," she confessed, "but I'm told that when a man masters this technique, it creates both great pleasure and remarkable endurance."

He tried to imagine how that could be done. Perhaps it might be… possible. "Did you learn of this from your friend Ling-Ling?"

"She was an excellent source of information," Troth said demurely. "But there were also many books in Chenqua's library."

"I saw such a book in Canton." It had been passed around with leers and embarrassed snickers after dinner one night, along with the port. "I couldn't read the words, of course, but the pictures would be considered pornography in Europe."

She frowned. "Fan-qui men are like giggling boys when it comes to sexual relations. Taoism teaches that fulfilling sexuality is essential to a harmonious life, so there are many texts describing how to achieve it."

Perhaps that was why Troth had an openness about sex that would be unthinkable in a European virgin. "You didn't describe this part of Taoist theory. Tell me more."

"Females have endless yin essence, so a man should prolong their union to absorb as much as possible," she explained. "It's important to join with those of a happy, loving temperament, because lovers absorb energy from each other, and one doesn't wish to take on tainted energy." She smiled mischievously. "It is essential for a man to fulfill his partner, because that way he will gain the greatest yin from her."

He began braiding her silky hair into a queue. "I can see why Chinese women approve of this philosophy. But what about households where men have several wives and concubines?"

"To be truly master of his house, a man must keep all his women satisfied. That is why he withholds his ching, so he can fulfill his obligations. Ten times a night is considered a good number."

He gasped. "How many men perform regularly at that level?"

"Not too many, I suspect, but that's the traditional ideal. The books say that withholding yang produces a very powerful fulfillment called the Plateau of Delight. Releasing seed should be done only from desire to make a baby. That is called the Peak of Ching."

Enchanted by her scholarly manner, he said, "Fascinating. I shall have to experiment." And if Troth was right about the Plateau of Delight, he would be able to find his pleasure without withdrawing. European sexual practice was beginning to look downright crude by comparison.

She glanced over her shoulder with a delicious smile. "I should think that learning how to do this would require much practice."

He grinned back at her. What a splendid, splendid prospect.