Read Online The White Vixen by David Tindell - Free Book Online Page B

a lady offers to buy me dinner ashore,” he said as he spread his cloth napkin on his lap.
    “It’s probably not very often you save a lady’s life,” she said with a smile, suppressing the shudder she felt at the memory of being pulled down, down, into the dark and cold water. She hadn’t seen him dive in from his perch on the rope ladder, hadn’t felt his hand grasp her hair and keep her from sinking, long enough for another marine—Sergeant Powers, she’d been told—to pry the arms of Madame Zhi’s nephew from around her shoulders. Masters hauled her to the surface, unconscious by then, while Powers followed with the luckless nephew. Other marines and sailors got her aboard Cambridge and a medical corpsman quickly revived her. A half-hour later, she awakened in the ship’s sick bay, and was told the story of her rescue.
    “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” he said with false modesty. In the past week, Jo had heard plenty of stories about this particular Royal Marines officer. Which ones were true, well, that she’d have to find out.
    Their first course was served. The lettuce with quail was excellent, and the main course arrived in due time. “Now, there’s no real delicate way to eat squab,” she said.
    “And so the indelicate way prevails?”
    “Yes, just dig in,” she said, and demonstrated by picking up the bird and taking a bite. The succulent juices started running down her chin, and she quickly lapped at it with her napkin. Ian followed suit, leaning forward quickly to keep a squirt of juice from reaching his sport jacket. “Nicely done, Major,” she said.
    “Rather like a Cornish game hen,” he said. “Tastier, though. Quite delicious, in fact.”
    They weren’t able to talk much as they finished the squab, washing it down with tea. But there was plenty of laughter as they negotiated the birds and managed to finish them off without spotting their clothing. Their waiter appeared within seconds after they completed the main course. “Dessert, please?”
    Jo had an idea, and ordered in Chinese again. “What is it this time?” Ian asked.
    “A surprise,” she said as the waiter bowed and hustled toward the kitchen with their plates and the remains of the squab.
    Ian leaned forward on the table and fixed his lustrous blue eyes on Jo. “This entire evening has been a very pleasant surprise,” he said.
    She leaned forward on her elbows also, bringing her face within a foot or so of his. “It has?”
    “Yes,” he said. “I didn’t quite know what to expect when I accepted your invitation.” His voice lowered a tone, and his face came another inch toward hers. “Americans are fairly unpredictable, you see.”
    “Oh, really? But do I seem like a typical American to you?” Subconsciously, she had lowered her voice and leaned forward, too.
    “Indeed not,” he said. The table wasn’t really that wide, and if they both leaned forward a little bit more, their lips would touch…
    “Dessert!”
    The waiter was back, with two bowls of vanilla ice cream, topped with chocolate syrup, a dab of whipped cream and a cherry. Jo and Ian sat back in their chairs as the waiter set the bowls in front of them. Jo was disappointed that their moment had been lost, but felt fairly sure they’d have another chance.
    “Well, what’s this, now?” Ian said, mock sternness in his voice.
    “Don’t tell me you don’t have ice cream sundaes where you come from,” Jo teased. She dipped into her sundae with a spoon and took a succulent bite.
    “Of course,” he said. He shoveled in a large spoonful. “Oh, my”, he said, barely able to get the words out. Another spoonful followed. He looked at her, eyes twinkling, and winked.
     
    The hike to Sok Kwo Wan dock was as scenic as had been promised. The sunset was spectacular, silhouetting Lantau Island to their west, across the West Lamma Channel. Their ferry ride back to Hong Kong would be longer, but it was a pleasant evening