Now Reiko's eyes rounded in surprise at the compliment. "Thank you, but it was nothing, really." A becoming flush of pleasure bloomed in her cheeks. "It's just something I learned from a martial arts treatise by k.u.mashiro."

"You've read k.u.mashiro's works?" Now it was Sano's turn to be surprised. The great swordsman, who had lived two hundred years ago, was a hero of his own. Now his love of the history of martial arts prevailed over his belief that a wife shouldn't practice them. He found himself and Reiko discussing kenjutsu. Because she'd read as widely as he, this was one of the most satisfying conversations he'd ever had on the subject. Reiko's intelligence impressed him, and he enjoyed watching her glow with enthusiasm. She moved closer; her posture relaxed; her smile mirrored his pleasure in their mutual interest. Sano believed that she'd come here because she'd wanted to see him: after all, she could have sent a maid to deliver her father's message. She, too, felt the attraction that sparked between them.

Then, in the middle of a pa.s.sionate argument about the merits of a particular style of swordsmanship, Sano realized he was making the same mistake that Magistrate Ueda rued: encouraging Reiko's interest in unfeminine pursuits.

His expression must have shown his dismay, because Reiko stopped talking in the middle of a sentence. Sadness quenched the sparkle in her eyes; she'd read his thoughts. "It's late," she said regretfully. "I shan't interrupt your work any longer." As their camaraderie died, the room seemed to grow suddenly colder. "Good night, Honorable Husband." Reiko bowed and rose.

"Wait," Sano said. When she paused at the door, a question in her eyes, he wanted to say: Investigating Lady Harume's life has opened my eyes. I understand what it's like to be female in a world ruled by men. I realize the cruelty of a society that limits a woman's existence. I know how you feel!

Yet how could he claim to understand Reiko's position, while still maintaining his own? He didn't want her involved in a murder investigation that had grown even more perilous with Lady Keisho-in's emergence as a suspect. He still doubted her ability to accomplish anything worth the risk of her life. Knowing this, Reiko would surely repudiate his sympathy as a mere ploy to win her affection against her will. Sano cast about for a neutral topic of conversation, but anything he might say could lead to the central issue of her independence-his authority- and another quarrel.

"Good night, " Sano said at last.

With a swish of silk garments and a whiff of jasmine, Reiko slipped out the door, closing it softly behind her. More despondent than ever, Sano sat alone at his desk. Her presence still lingered: a clear, rippling stream slowly carving its path through the bedrock of his soul. Yet unless they could somehow get beyond this terrible impa.s.se, they were doomed to live like strangers, together yet apart. Love seemed a hopeless dream.

Against his better judgment, Sano poured himself another cup of sake. Then, sipping the lukewarm liquor, he turned his thoughts to another unhappy lover, Lieutenant Kushida. The palace guard represented Sano's best chance to conclude the murder investigation quickly, and with his life intact. However, as he scanned the detectives' report on Kushida, his spirits waned further. No incriminating evidence had been found in his background or his quarters. That left Sano right where he'd started: with Kushida's statement, and the attempted burglary.

Sano reached over to the built-in shelves of his study niche and removed Lady Harume's diary. Riffling through the pages, he again wondered why Lieutenant Kushida had wanted to steal them. Then Sano noticed something he'd missed before. He held the open diary near the lamp for closer scrutiny.

Tiny ink marks filled the inner margins of the pages, where the silk cord joined them. Sano untied the cord and separated the sheets. The marks were the fine outer brushstrokes of characters that Lady Harume had written along the edge of the middle pages, then hidden beneath the binding. Arranged sequentially, they read: Lying together in the shadows between two existences, Skin touching bare skin, Your breath joins mine; your sighs fill my depths And our blood sings to the rhythm of a single heartbeat.

As you explore the secret places of my body I open myself to your touch Ah, if only I could take all of you inside me So that we might never part.

But alas! Your rank and fame endanger us.

We can never walk together in daylight.

Yet love is eternal; you are mine forever, as I am yours, In spirit, though not in marriage.

Sano reread the lines with repressed jubilation. Harume's expression of eternal love didn't reflect Lady Keisho-in's complaints of betrayal. She must have been involved with someone else, whom she'd loved so much that she couldn't resist committing her emotions to paper despite the fear of discovery.

But who was this lover of public reputation and unspecified name? Any man would be condemned to death for bedding the shogun's favorite concubine; even a woman could earn the same fate by usurping Lady Harume's affection. How had this particular individual's position worsened the danger? Had the affair occasioned the earlier attempts on her life?

Sano cautioned himself against hoping too much for a lead that pointed away from Lady Keisho-in. Perhaps Harume had been writing about the shogun's mother during a happier phase of their relationship. Though Sano knew that love often surmounts the barriers of age, he wanted to believe that Harume had accepted old, homely Keisho-in's advances only to gain privileges. He wanted to believe that the hidden verse implicated someone else.

Lieutenant Kushida had denied s.e.xual contact with Harume, but what if he'd lied? Maybe he'd tried to steal the diary because he feared Harume had named him as her lover. The impa.s.sioned tone of the verse and the s.e.xual acts suggested didn't fit Harume's arrangement with Lord Miyagi, but their liaison could have later evolved beyond his spying at her through windows, despite his denials. It wasn't uncommon for a worldly older man to win a young girl's affection. Either the daimyo or Lieutenant Kushida might have killed Harume to prevent the affair from being exposed, or the shogun from finding out that the suspect had impregnated her.

Or perhaps there was another, yet unknown lover in Harume's past.

Sano must investigate the possibility. But for now he invested his hopes in Lieutenant Kushida and Lord Miyagi as the prime suspects.

25.

The bathchamber of the Miyagi mansion was similar to those in any of Edo's great daimyo estates. A sunken wooden tub full of hot water steamed in the center of the s.p.a.cious room. Shelves held rinse buckets, drying cloths, rice-bran soap, and jars of scented oil. A slatted floor allowed spilled water to flow into drains below. Charcoal braziers heated the air. But this particular bathchamber also had two unusual features.

A bamboo screen enclosed one corner, and in the wall, a tiny sliding door was inset at eye level. Lady Miyagi knelt on a cushion in the enclosure. Hearing footsteps, she tensed, alert to her husband's arrival. The spyhole door slid open, and she sensed his antic.i.p.ation as he looked into the bathchamber, awaiting the entertainment she'd arranged for him. She clapped, the signal for the ritual to begin.

The door opened. In walked Lord Miyagi's concubines, Snowflake and Wren. Both wore dressing gowns, their long hair pinned up. Chattering together, they did not appear aware of their lord watching through the spyhole. Nor did they seem to notice Lady Miyagi, although the screen only hid her from the daimyo and she was clearly visible to them. At the Zojo Temple orphanage four years ago, she'd inspected all the girls, seeking the right combination of cleverness and docility, before taking these two home with her. She'd trained Snowflake and Wren in the art of pleasing her husband. Now they were superb actresses. As if oblivious to the presence of master and mistress, they slipped off their robes.

From behind the spyhole, Lord Miyagi sighed. Lady Miyagi smiled, vicariously enjoying his pleasure at the sight of his concubines' naked bodies. Snowflake had large b.r.e.a.s.t.s with prominent nipples. Wren, small of bosom, had wide, curving hips. They complemented each other perfectly, and Lady Miyagi could feel the heat of her husband's excitement, like flames licking the wall. Snowflake picked up a bucket and doused herself with water. Squatting, she scrubbed her arms with soap. To Wren, she said coyly, "Will you wash my back?"

Giggling, Wren complied, then lathered Snowflake's bosom. Snow-flake cooed with apparent delight. She closed her eyes and sighed as Wren fondled her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, pinching and sucking the nipples.

Lady Miyagi heard her husband moan. She knew he was taking his manhood out of his loincloth, stroking it. Wren cast an oblique glance at Lady Miyagi, who gestured for her to continue touching Snowflake. Lord Miyagi enjoyed this drawn-out erotic play. Lady Miyagi didn't know-or care-whether the concubines did, or if they only feigned pleasure out of duty to the master who fed and sheltered them, or fear of their mistress's anger lest they disobey. But she herself felt no physical response. An early experience had destroyed her capacity for s.e.xual pleasure.

As a child of a secondary branch of the Miyagi clan, she'd grown up on this estate. Back then the house had always been full of people. The former daimyo-her husband's father-had loved hosting lavish parties. At one of these, eleven-year-old Miyagi Akiko had met an uncle newly arrived from Tosa Province. Ten years her senior, Uncle Kaoru had charmed her with his good looks and friendliness. She'd begun tagging after him, bringing him little gifts of flowers and sweets. In a childish way, she fell in love.

Then one night, her bedchamber door slid open. Kaoru whispered, "Come with me, Akiko. I have a surprise for you."

Eagerly she accompanied him out into the warm summer night. With Kaoru's strong hand holding hers, Akiko felt a mounting excitement that she didn't understand. He led her into the stables. Horses stirred at their approach. Akiko's heart thumped as Kaoru drew her into a vacant stall, where moonlight streamed through the open window and fresh straw covered the floor.

Kaoru's eyes gleamed with a strange intensity. "Do you love me, Akiko-chan?"

"... Yes." Uneasily she backed away.

Blocking the door, Kaoru smiled and stroked her hair. "Don't be afraid." He ran his hands down her slight body. "So young. So nice." A guttural moan escaped him.

"I-I want to go back in the house," Akiko said, shrinking from his touch.

He untied her sash and tore off her kimono. He flung himself upon her, panting like a dog.

"What are you doing, oji-san? Stop, please!"

Pinned beneath him on the straw, Akiko smelled his sweat mingling with the pungent odor of horse manure. His breath stank of liquor. She struggled, and he slapped her face. "Don't fight me," he rasped. "You've been asking for this, and now you're going to get it!"

The hardness at his loins bludgeoned Akiko as he forced her legs apart. She screamed in terror. The straw sc.r.a.ped her skin; his weight crushed her. She'd heard tales of peasant girls, and even female relatives, violated by men of her clan, but had never imagined that it could happen to her. Again she screamed: "Help!"

Kaoru hit her again, harder. "Quiet, or I'll kill you." Then he entered her.

Akiko felt a searing pain between her legs, as though he'd driven a sword through her. With Kaoru's repeated thrusts, the sword plunged deeper. Agony blinded Akiko; she wept silently. Horses stomped and whinnied. The torture went on and on. Then Kaoru cried out. He withdrew, and the pain eased. Through her tears, Akiko watched him rise from her.

"Oh, no," he said, looking down at his hands, his clothing, the straw. A dark substance covered everything. Dimly, Akiko realized that it was blood-hers. Kaoru said, "If you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you." Panic tinged his voice. "Do you understand? I'll kill you!"

Later Akiko had vague memories of lying half-conscious in the straw until morning came and someone found her; of doctors forcing bitter medicine down her throat. After a while she recovered, but not completely. Between her legs and in her lower abdomen, where she had once felt pleasant stirrings during romantic fantasies, scar tissue obliterated sensation.

Uncle Kaoru remained at the estate. Akiko never reported what he'd done to her. If anyone guessed, no one ever punished him. Akiko spent her days hiding alone in her bedchamber with the shutters closed. Then Kaoru suddenly departed for Tosa Province. Relief lightened the weight of terror that imprisoned Akiko. She ventured into the garden for the first time in two months. As she stood blinking in the sunshine, someone came up beside her.

"h.e.l.lo, Cousin."

Instinctively she flinched at the male voice. Then she recognized her sixteen-year-old cousin Shigeru, first son of the daimyo. Though they'd both lived on the estate all their lives, she barely knew him: The future lord of Tosa Province was too busy to bother with girls. Now Akiko saw that this slender youth of slouching posture and soft, moist eyes and mouth possessed none of the masculine brutality that she feared, but his rank intimidated her.

"I saw what happened in the stable," Shigeru said. "I told my father, and he sent Uncle Kaoru away." The future daimyo gave her a sly, ingratiating smile. "I just thought you'd like to know."

Grat.i.tude overwhelmed Akiko. Unbidden, he'd helped her when no one else cared. From that moment, she dedicated her life to Shigeru. She needed someone to worship; he needed slavish devotion. They became inseparable companions, and he the beneficiary of her love. Under his protection, she was safe from other men. He confided his private thoughts to her: his dislike of responsibility; his dreams of a quiet life devoted to pleasure. And he never tried to touch her. Soon she learned his favorite pastime: spying on women.

Ever anxious to please, Akiko helped Shigeru sneak into the women's quarters so he could watch the women undress and bathe. He would stimulate himself while she acted as lookout. On some level, she understood that he must have noticed her attachment to Kaoru, followed them to the stable that night, and enjoyed watching the attack instead of stopping it. She also understood that he'd seen the advantages of transferring her devotion to himself. Yet she never admitted that Shigeru was using her. She loved him; she needed him. Therefore she must do whatever was necessary to preserve their friendship.

Eight years pa.s.sed. As Akiko matured, the terrifying prospect of marriage loomed. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving Shigeru, of living with a strange man who would touch her body. The attack had inflicted permanent physical damage: Her monthly bleeding brought on excruciating cramps; perhaps she could never bear children. However, this possible defect wouldn't save her. Not a whisper about her injury had pa.s.sed beyond the immediate family; her parents didn't want to ruin her chances of an advantageous match.

Then Shigeru's father died, and he became daimyo. The clan had delayed his marriage in the hope of a union with some powerful samurai clan, but the Miyagi's minor status attracted no worthy prospects; hence, the clan decided to consolidate its a.s.sets by wedding Shigeru to a relative. Akiko's branch of the family was next in the line of succession, and she its eldest daughter. Shigeru married her.

Akiko was overjoyed. Now she could live forever under the protection of a husband who wouldn't force any physical attentions on her. "Marriage doesn't have to change things between us," Shigeru said."Let's just go on like always."

They altered the household to suit their mutual taste. Shigeru sent most of the relatives and retainers to his estate in Tosa Province. Akiko dismissed most of the servants. When not pursuing Shigeru's s.e.xual gratification, they preferred poetry and music to entertaining company. During the months he spent in Tosa every year, Akiko pined for him. As wife of a daimyo, she lost some of her fear of men and gained an air of authority, but only when Shigeru was with her did she feel truly safe, or happy.

Now Lady Miyagi heard her husband's breaths quicken; she pictured his hands stroking himself faster and harder. When Snowflake glanced at her, she signaled for the love play to proceed. Snowflake lay on the floor, legs spread wide. Wren got down on hands and knees, crawling backward over her. She buried her face in Snowflake's crotch, licking and sucking with exaggerated noise. Snowflake moaned and writhed. Grasping Wren's b.u.t.tocks, she pulled her partner's womanhood down upon her own mouth. Lord Miyagi grunted and gasped. Lady Miyagi knew that his ecstasy was near. Gladness filled her heart.

Though she'd never experienced physical joy herself, she could share her husband's. Mutual need had wrought a spiritual bond between them. Even without s.e.x, she found the deepest personal fulfillment in their marriage; she felt no need for children. Let Shigeru's nephew succeed him as daimyo. They were mated souls, like the two swans in the family crest, a self-sufficient pair... or so she tried to tell herself. Once she had thought this union eternal, invincible. Then Harume had entered their lives, that evening last spring.

Lord and Lady Miyagi had been standing on a pier, watching fireworks burst over the Sumida River, amid noisy crowds celebrating the opening of the boating season. Shigeru had pointed out Harume among the shogun's entourage. Imagining the girl as just another harmless diversion, Lady Miyagi had procured a meeting. How could she have foreseen that Harume would pierce the weakness in their marriage? Discovering that the affair had taken a turn that could divide her from Shigeru had actually made her ill; she'd vomited in the street. Harume had threatened not only her happiness, but her very existence. Lady Miyagi rejoiced in Harume's death. She was safe once again. Shigeru need never know what had almost happened.

However, the threat had not completely died with Lady Harume. Its specter haunted Lady Miyagi, ready to rise again. And a new menace, in the form of the murder investigation, shadowed her life. Even the news of Lieutenant Kushida's arrest had not eased her mind.

Now Shigeru's moans grew louder with the urgency of his need. Lady Miyagi gave another signal to the concubines. Snowflake thrust her pelvis against Wren's face and screamed. Wren arched her back, closed her eyes, and let out a series of blissful cries. Through the wall came a hoa.r.s.e shout. Tears of joy stung Lady Miyagi's eyes. Once again she had served her lord's desire.

Hearing his footsteps retreat, she rose. Snowflake and Wren disentangled themselves and bowed. "That was excellent," Lady Miyagi said, then walked down the corridor to Shigeru's bedchamber.

In the light of a lamp on the table, he lay upon his futon, covered with a quilt, his head pillowed on a wooden neck rest. This was Lady Miyagi's favorite part of the ritual: when she and Shigeru came together again. She lay on the futon next to his. They never touched. Shigeru was usually half asleep by this time. Lady Miyagi would wait awhile to see if he needed anything, then snuff out the lamp. Eventually she, too, would sleep, secure in their unique love.

But tonight Shigeru was wide awake, his gaze pensive as he stared at the ceiling. Lady Miyagi said, "What's wrong, Cousin?"

He turned to her. "It's this murder investigation." The worry on his face made him look simultaneously older and younger; in his soft, drooping features, Lady Miyagi could see both her girlhood companion and the elderly man he would become. "Ever since Sosakan Sano came here, I have been suffering from the most terrible feeling of doom."

"But why? What have you to be afraid of?" Though she kept her voice calm, Lady Miyagi was disturbed. Why hadn't she sensed his fear? Why hadn't he confided in her sooner? Were they losing their precious spiritual connection? Anger filled Lady Miyagi like hot, suffocating flame. Harume had done this! And beneath her anger, a shard of fright lodged in her breast.

How much did Shigeru know? What would happen to them? Suddenly Lady Miyagi didn't want to hear what he was going to say. Lying rigid beneath her quilt, the fear growing into a jagged crystal in her heart, she braced herself for disaster.

"I've heard that Sosakan Sano is a man who will stop at nothing to discover the truth," Shigeru said. "Suppose he finds out what happened between Lady Harume and me? I could be charged with murder."

"He already knows about the affair," Lady Miyagi said reasonably, though horror sickened her. Shigeru, arrested-perhaps even convicted and executed? How would she live without him? "You've admitted sending the ink, but Sosakan Sano can't prove that you had anything to do with the murder." She had to force herself to speak the next words: "And what more is there for him to find out?"

Even in her terror of losing Shigeru, Lady Miyagi tasted bitter jealousy. She didn't want to learn anything about him and Harume that she didn't already know; she didn't want to be hurt again.

"Harume said that unless I gave her ten thousand koban, she would tell the shogun I had forced myself on her," Shigeru said unhappily. "I thought she was bluffing, but I couldn't be sure. So I paid her, a little at a time, so you wouldn't notice money missing from the household accounts. I didn't want you to worry."

Shigeru seemed to deflate, as if drained by the confession. "Harume's blackmail gives me a strong motive for murder. If Sosakan Sano learns of it, I'll be the prime suspect. Now do you understand why I'm afraid?"

Relief flooded Lady Miyagi. Forgetting her doubts and fears, she wanted to laugh with joy. Blackmail-that's all it was, not another cruel betrayal. And how kind of her husband to consider her feelings. New confidence flowed through Lady Miyagi, washing away her suspicion that he'd hidden the truth from her for some less n.o.ble reason. She was the strong, sensible one who always took care of problems. She could avert any threat, triumph over any adversary who threatened them.

"Don't worry, Cousin," she said. "I'll fix things so that you'll be safe from Sosakan Sano. Rest now, and leave everything to me."

Shigeru's eyes were tearful with relief and grat.i.tude. "Thank you, Cousin. What would I ever do without you?"

Rolling over, he snuggled under the quilt. Lady Miyagi extinguished the lamp. Soon Shigeru was snoring quietly, but she lay awake, scheming. Lieutenant Kushida was the logical prime suspect, and Lady Miyagi expected him to be convicted of the crime. Yet she didn't dare count on it. From the beginning she'd antic.i.p.ated and prepared for trouble. Already she'd acted in their mutual defense. Now she must take further steps to protect her beloved husband. Their special marriage.

Her life.

26.

As midnight approached, the fog dispersed over the bancho, the district west of Edo Castle where Tokugawa hereditary va.s.sals lived. Stars glittered in ragged patches of indigo sky. The moon's radiance turned the fleeing mist to a silvery haze that lit the labyrinth of deserted streets. In the dense bamboo thickets surrounding hundreds of tiny, rundown yashiki, nocturnal life seethed. Foraging rats rustled the wet leaves; stray dogs fought; crickets chirped. But most of the human population slumbered within dark houses. Sentries dozed in gatehouses, enduring the tedium of a quiet watch. All was peaceful-except the Kushida estate: There torches burned above the gate and around the bamboo thicket. Tokugawa troops patrolled the perimeter and perched on the thatched roof, preventing the escape of the criminal under house arrest.

In a small, dark storage chamber converted to a jail cell, Lieutenant Kushida lay on his futon. The alchemy of sleep carried him out of imprisonment, into the Large Interior. Down empty corridors he followed the sound of Lady Harume's singing: "Summer's green bamboo shoots grow tall and bold, The lotus spreads its pink petals..."

Kushida's heart filled with joyous antic.i.p.ation. This time she would accept his love. She would satisfy the terrible l.u.s.t that gnawed at him.

"Rain showers the roofs, A cuckoo calls- Come to me, my love..."

At last Kushida arrived at Lady Harume's door. He pushed it open and saw Harume lying dead on the floor. Blood drenched her nude body and long, tangled hair. The fatal tattoo branded her shaven pubis like ink on ivory. As Kushida stared in horror, Lady Harume's eyes opened. Her hand beckoned. In a strangled croak, she sang: "Come to me, my love!"

Jerking awake, Kushida lurched upright in bed. His chest heaved as though he'd been running. And his manhood was erect, painfully engorged with the l.u.s.t he still felt for Lady Harume. She had haunted his dreams ever since they'd first met. After her death, the dreams had become nightmares. Yet love and desire persisted. And within his spirit, like underground steam seeking a fissure through which to explode, swelled his anger toward the woman who had humiliated and ruined him.

Clambering to his feet, Kushida cursed himself for succ.u.mbing to sleep and allowing the dreams to come. But he'd needed a reprieve from the harsh reality of his situation. Now he paced the floor, trying to bring his emotions under control.

At first he'd attempted to resign himself to his imprisonment with samurai stoicism. He'd spent the day in quiet meditation, eating the meals brought to him, depositing his urine and feces into the waste-bucket. But soon he could hold his peace no more. The room had grown dark and steadily colder since nightfall because his captors would give him no lamp or charcoal brazier, lest he try to burn his way out. The shame of being caged like an animal tormented his spirit. And the internal pressure of anger and need expanded within him, fueling his desperate craving for freedom.

Ten steps along one blank wall, then Kushida turned the corner and marched eight steps along another, and ten more past the door outside which a soldier stood guard. Having memorized the room's dimensions, he needed no light to direct him. The fourth wall of the room boasted a high, barred window that had once overlooked the garden but now faced a corridor-the house had expanded over the years, with new wings added to accommodate the family's growth. Now the wavering glow of a candle moved across the window, casting dim light into Kushida's cell. An old, white-haired samurai appeared in the corridor.

"Can't sleep, young master?" It was Yohei, a retainer whose family had served Kushida's clan for generations. As he smiled, sorrow deepened the wrinkles in his round face. "Well, neither could I, so I came to keep you company."

The rest of the household, including Kushida's parents, had avoided him all day. They believed him guilty of murder and wanted no share of his disgrace. But Yohei had adored Kushida since his birth, always giving him special treats, caring for him like a doting uncle. He alone had braved social censure to visit Kushida periodically. Now he said, "Are you bearing up all right? Anything I can do for you?"

The old man's kindness brought tears to Kushida's eyes. "How did this happen, Yohei?" he lamented.

"Fate often does strange things. Perhaps it is punishing you for the sins of your ancestors."

After hours of soul-searching, Kushida could blame neither fate nor his ancestors for the ills that his own actions, his own history, had created. Across the distance of twenty-five years, he saw the school where he'd learned the art of the spear. He heard the voice of his teacher.

"All your energy must be channeled into the development of combat skill," Sensei Saigo lectured the cla.s.s. "Don't dissipate your strength in wasteful self-indulgence. At meals, stop eating before you've had your fill; let hunger sharpen your awareness. Abstain from liquor and frivolous recreation, which dull the mind and weaken the body. Above all, resist the temptation to gratify your carnal desires. The spear is your manhood. Through it, you shall find true fulfillment."

Young Kushida had yearned to be a great spear fighter. Hence, he zealously followed Saigo's teachings. Then one day when Kushida was twelve, he discovered in his father's study a book of shunga. The frontispiece was a painting of a beautiful naked woman coupling with a samurai lover. A dark, unfamiliar excitement filled Kushida. Instinctively he reached under his kimono. His hands began a motion they'd never been taught. Excitement culminated in blinding ecstasy-followed by anguish and guilt. He'd committed the self-indulgence that Saigo had warned him against, sacrificing discipline to pleasure.

When he confessed his misdeed, the sensei had a.s.signed him extra combat practice and meditation sessions. At first Kushida yielded to his physical urges often, but eventually he overcame his bad habit. He immersed himself in naginatajutsu, attaining impressive skill, and remained celibate. Even while working near the shogun's women, he could go days, even months, without thinking about s.e.x.

Then Lady Harume came to Edo Castle.

He'd been on duty the day she arrived. When Madam Chizuru introduced her to Kushida, a jolt of recognition rocked him. With her pert face and voluptuous figure, she resembled the girl in the shunga that had provoked Kushida's first o.r.g.a.s.m. Repressed desire exploded in him, and the desire focused on Lady Harume, who'd reawakened it.