The Lion's Lady

Chapter Nine

Monday was a trial of endurance for Christina. Although she protested vehemently, Lyon 's servants had her possessions packed up and transferred to his mother's townhouse by noon.

Christina kept insisting that she wasn't going anywhere, that the Countess would be home Monday next, and that she would take care of herself until that time. No one paid her the least attention. They followed the instructions from their employer, of course, and though they were friendly enough, one and all suggested she mention her distress to the Marquess of Lyonwood.

Although Christina had not seen Lyon since Friday evening, his presence was certainly felt. He hadn't allowed her to attend Creston's ball, or to go anywhere else, for that matter. Christina thought he kept her closeted inside her townhouse so she wouldn't be able to run away.

There was also the possibility that he was trying to protect her feelings, Christina realized. He might not want her to hear any of the whispers circling the ton about her liaison with Lyon. It was a scandal, to be sure, but a scandal Lyon had personally caused.

Perhaps Lyon thought she'd be upset about the slurs against her character. She was unmarried, Lyon had been undressed, and half the ton had witnessed the scene. Oh, there was a scandal floating about; Christina had heard Colette, the lady's maid Lyon had thrust upon her, tell one of the other servants a juicy bit of gossip she'd overheard when she'd gone to do the marketing with the cook.

Christina had a splitting headache by midafternoon. It came upon her all at once when she happened to notice the wedding announcement in the newspapers. Lyon had had the gall to post his intention to marry Princess Christina the following Saturday.

Colette caught her tearing up the paper. "Oh, my lady, isn't it romantic the way the Marquess flaunts tradition? Why, he's doing everything to his liking and doesn't care what others will say."

Christina didn't think it was romantic at all. She felt like screaming. She went upstairs to her bedroom, thinking to find a few minutes' peace, but she'd barely closed the door behind her when she was once again interrupted.

A visitor was waiting for her in the drawing room. Since Lyon had ordered that no one was to be allowed entrance, Christina naturally assumed he was the one waiting for her.

She was fighting mad when she stormed into the salon. "If you think you can…"

Her shout tapered off as soon as she saw the elderly woman sitting in the gold wing-back chair. "If I think what, my dear?" the woman asked, looking perplexed.

Christina was embarrassed by her outburst. The woman smiled at her then. Some of the awkwardness left her. Christina could tell the stranger was kind. There were laugh wrinkles around her eyes and her mouth. The top of her gray-haired bun was level with the top of the chair, indicating she was an extremely tall woman. She wasn't very attractive. Her hooked nose took up a good portion of her face, and she had a slight yet noticeable line of hair above her thin upper lip. She was a heavy-bosomed woman with wide shoulders.

She seemed to be about the Countess's age. "I do apologize for shouting at you, madam, but I believed you were Lyon," Christina explained after making a low curtsy.

"How very bold of you, child."

"Bold? I don't understand," Christina said.

"To raise your voice to my nephew. Proves you've got spirit," the woman announced with a brisk nod. She motioned for Christina to sit down. "I've known Lyon since he was a little boy, and I've never had the courage to shout at him. Now, allow me to introduce myself," she continued. "I'm Lyon 's aunt. Aunt Harriett, to be correct. I'm his father's younger sister, you see, and since you'll soon be the new Marchionness of Lyonwood, you might as well call me Aunt Harriett from the beginning. Are you ready to come home with me now, Christina, or do you need a little more time to prepare? I shall be happy to wait in here, if you could order me a spot of tea. My, it has gone warm again today, hasn't it?" she asked.

Christina didn't know how to answer her. She watched her take a small fluted fan from her lap, open it with a quick flip of her wrist, and begin to wave it a bit violently in front of her face.

Because of the woman's advanced years, Christina naturally took a submissive attitude. The elders were to be respected and-whenever possible-obeyed without a word of protest. It was the way of the Dakota, the way Christina was raised.

Christina bowed her head and said, "I am honored to meet you, Aunt Harriett. If you have the patience to listen to me, I would like to explain that there seems to be a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" Harriett asked. Her voice sounded with amusement. She pointed her fan at Christina. "My dear, may I be open with you? Lyon has ordered me to see you settled in his mother's townhouse. We both know he'll have his way, regardless of your feelings. Don't look so crestfallen, child. He only has your best interests at heart."

"Yes, madam."

"Do you want to marry Lyon?"

Her blunt question demanded an answer. She was staring intently at Christina. Very much like a hawk, Christina thought. "Well, child?"

Christina tried to think of a way to soften the truth. "What I would like to do and what I must do are two separate issues. I'm trying to protect Lyon from making a terrible mistake, madam."

"Marriage would be a mistake, you say?" Aunt Harriett asked.

"If he marries me, yes," Christina admitted. "I've always been known for my bluntness, Christina, so I'm going to ask you right out. Do you love my nephew?" Christina could feel herself blushing. She looked up at Aunt Harriett for a long moment. "You don't need to answer me, child. I can see you do."

"I am trying not to love him," Christina whispered.

Aunt Harriett started fanning herself again. "I certainly don't understand that remark. No, I don't. Lyon did tell me you've only just learned the English language, and that you might not make sense all the time. Now, don't get red in the face, Christina, he meant no criticism. Do you have any idea how remarkable it is that this union will be based on love?"

"When I first met Lyon, I believed we were meant to be together… for a short time. Yes," she added when Aunt Harriett gave her a puzzled look. "I believed it was our destiny."

"Destiny?" Aunt Harriett smiled. "What a romantic notion, Christina. I believe you're just what my nephew needs. He's such an intense, angry man most of the time. Now please explain what you meant by saying it would be for only a short while. Do you believe you'd fall out of love so quickly? That is a bit of a shallow constitution, isn't it?"

Christina wasn't sure what the woman meant by her remark. " Lyon would like to marry a princess. I would like to go home. It is really very simple."

The look on Aunt Harriett's face indicated she didn't think it was simple at all.

"Then Lyon will have to go home with you," Aunt Harriett announced. "I'm sure he'd insist upon visiting your homeland."

The absurd suggestion made Christina smile.

"See? I've lightened your worry already," Aunt Harriett said. "Why, of course, Lyon will take you home for a visitation."

Christina knew it was pointless to argue with the kind woman's expectations, and it would have been rude to disagree openly with her. After ordering refreshments, Christina spent the next hour listening to Aunt Harriett tell amusing stories about her family.

She learned that Lyon 's father had died in his sleep. Lyon was away at school when the tragedy happened, and Christina thought it sad indeed that he hadn't been by his father's side. She also learned that Lyon 's wife, Lettie, had died in childbirth. The story was so sad, Christina had to fight back her tears.

And when the hour was up, Christina went with Aunt Harriett to Lyon 's mother's home.

She'd been inside the beautiful townhouse once before, when she'd visited Lady Diana by request, and for that reason the sight of such luxury didn't quite take her breath away.

The entrance blazed with candlelight. The receiving room was on the left. It was a good three times the size of all the others Christina had seen. The dining room was on the right. A long, narrow table took up most of the room, polished to such a sheen one could actually see his face in the reflection. There were sixteen chairs lining each side.

Christina assumed there were that many relatives living with Lyon 's mother. Lyon had provided well for his family. There were servants rushing around, fetching and carrying. Aunt Harriett had told her that Lyon paid for it all.

Lady Diana rushed down the steps to greet Christina. " Lyon is waiting for you upstairs in the library," she announced, tugging on Christina's arm. "Oh, you do look lovely in pink, Christina. It's such a soft color," she added. "Do you know, I wish I were as delicate in stature as you are. Why, I feel like an elephant when I'm standing next to you."

Diana continued her chatter, so Christina assumed she wasn't supposed to comment on that observation.

Lady Diana led her up the stairs and into the library. It was a bright, airy room, but that was all Christina noticed when she walked inside. Lyon captured her full attention. He was standing by the windows, his back to her. A surge of anger washed over her. Christina was suddenly infuriated with Lyon 's high-handed manner in taking over her life. She knew she was going to shout at him. The urge was making her throat ache.

She kept her intention hidden from his sister, even managed a weak smile when she said, "Lady Diana? May I have a few minutes alone with your brother?"

"Oh, I really don't know if that's a good idea. Aunt Harriett says you can't be unchaperoned for a single minute. She'd heard the rumors, you see," Diana whispered to Christina. "Still, she's downstairs now, and if you give me your promise that it will only be for a few minutes, no one will-"

"Diana, close the door behind you."

Lyon had turned around. He was staring at Christina when he gave the order to his sister.

Christina held his gaze. She wasn't going to be intimidated by him. And she certainly wasn't going to take any time at all to notice how ruggedly handsome he looked today. He was wearing a dark blue riding jacket. The fit made his shoulders look bigger than she'd remembered them to be.

Christina suddenly realized he was frowning at her. Why, he was actually angry with her. The observation didn't sit well. Christina was at first so astonished she could barely speak. How dare he be angry? He was the one causing all the mischief.

"I understand you accepted Baron Thorp's request to accompany you to Westley's affair, Christina. Is that true?"

"How did you hear that?" Christina asked.

"Is it true?"

He hadn't raised his voice, but the harshness was there in his tone.

"Yes, Lyon, I did agree to the baron's request. He asked me last week. We're going to this Westley's lawn party, whatever in heaven's name that is, and I don't particularly care if you're angry or not. It would be rude of me to cancel his escort now. I did give my word."

"You aren't going anywhere unless you're by my side, Christina," Lyon said. He took a deep breath before continuing. "One does not accompany other men when one is about to be married. It's becoming obvious to me that you don't grasp the situation, love. We are getting married Saturday, and I'll be damned if you'll have another escort the day before."

Lyon had tried to hold his temper, but by the time he ended his comments he was shouting.

"I shall not marry you," Christina shouted, matching his tone. "No, we shouldn't get married. Can't you see I'm trying to protect you? You don't know anything about me. You want a princess, for God's sake."

"Christina, if you don't start making sense…"

Lyon suddenly moved and had her in his arms before she could take a step back. Christina didn't try to struggle. "If you weren't so stubborn, Lyon, you'd realize I was right. I should find someone else. If Thorp doesn't agree to my proposal, I could ask someone else, even Splickler."

He had to force himself to take another deep breath. "Listen carefully, Christina. No one's going to touch you but me. Splickler's not going to be able to walk for a month, and I forsee a long voyage coming Thorp's way. Believe me when I tell you that every man you settle on will meet with a few unpleasant surprises."

"You wouldn't dare. You're a Marquess. You can't just go around frightening people. Why can't Splickler walk?" she suddenly asked. "I remember quite specifically that Rhone shut the door on his nose. You're exaggerating. You wouldn't-"

"Oh, but I would."

"Dare you smile at me while you make such obscene remarks?"

"I dare to do whatever I want to do, Christina." He rubbed his thumb across her mouth. Christina felt like biting him.

Then her shoulders sagged in defeat. All the man had to do was touch her, and her rational thoughts went flying out the window. God help her, she could feel the shivers gathering in her stomach now.

She let him kiss her, even opened her mouth for his tongue, then let him coach all the anger out of her.

Lyon didn't let up on his tender assault until Christina was responding to him with equal ardor. He ended the intimacy only after she'd put her arms around his shoulders and was clinging to him.

"The only time you're honest with me is when you kiss me, Christina. For now, that's quite enough."

Christina rested her head against his chest. "I will not give my heart to you, Lyon. I will not love you."

He rubbed his chin against the top of her head. "Yes, you will, my sweet."

"You're very sure of yourself," she muttered.

"You gave yourself to me, Christina. Of course I'm sure."

A loud knock on the door interrupted them. " Lyon, unhand that maiden immediately. Do you hear me?"

The question was unnecessary. Aunt Harriett had shouted loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

"How did she know you were holding me, Lyon? Does she have the sight?" Christina asked, her voice filled with awe.

"The what?" Lyon asked.

"Open this door. Now."

"The sight," Christina whispered between Aunt Harriett's bellows. "She can see through the door, Lyon."

Lyon laughed. The booming sound made her ears tingle. "No, my love. My Aunt Harriett just knows me very well. She assumed I'd be holding you."

She looked disappointed. When Aunt Harriett shouted again, Christina turned to go to the door. "If you give me one or two promises, I'll wed you Saturday," she said.

Lyon shook his head. The little innocent still didn't understand. Promises or not, he was going to marry her.

"Well?" she asked.

"What promises?"

Christina turned and found Lyon standing with his arms folded across his chest, waiting. His manner seemed condescending to her. "One, you must promise to let me go home when my task is done here. Two, you must promise not to fall in love with me."

"One, Christina, you aren't going anywhere. Marriage is forever. Get that little fact in your head. Two, I don't have the faintest idea why you wouldn't want me to love you, but I'll try to accommodate you."

"I knew you'd be difficult. I just knew it," Christina muttered.

The door suddenly opened behind her. "Well, why didn't you tell me it wasn't latched?" Aunt Harriett demanded. "Did you get this misunderstanding straightened out, Christina?" she asked.

"I have decided to marry Lyon for a little while."

"A long while," Lyon muttered.

The woman was as dense as fog. Lyon felt like shaking her.

"Good. Now come along with me, Christina, and I'll show you your room. It's next to my bedroom," she added, with a long, meaningful look in Lyon 's direction. "There will be no private meetings during the night while I'm about."

"She'll be there in just a minute," Lyon said. "Christina, answer me one question before you leave."

"I shall wait right outside this door," Aunt Harriett announced before pulling the door closed.

"What is your question?" Christina asked.

"Are you going to change your mind before Saturday? Do I have to keep you guarded inside the townhouse until then?"

"You're smiling as though you'd like to do just that," Christina announced. "No, I won't change my mind. You're going to be very sorry, Lyon," she added in a sympathetic voice. "I'm not at all what you think I am."

"I know exactly what I'm getting," Lyon said, trying not to laugh. She was giving him a forlorn look, telling him without words that she felt sorry for him.

"You're marrying me because you realize how good it was when we slept together," he announced.

It was an arrogant statement, and he really didn't think she'd bother to answer him.

"No."

Christina opened the door, smiled at Aunt Harriett, then turned to give Lyon her full answer. "The full truth, Lyon?"

"That would be nice for a change," Lyon answered with a drawl.

"In front of your dear Aunt Harriett?" she qualified, giving the perplexed woman a quick smile.

Aunt Harriett let out a sigh, then pulled the door closed again. Christina could hear her muttering something about not needing her fan what with the door flapping back and forth in her face, but she didn't understand what the older lady meant.

"Answer me, Christina, with your full truth."

His sudden impatience irritated her. "Very well. I'm marrying you because of the way you fought the mischief makers."

"What does that have to do with marriage?" he asked.

"Oh, everything."

"Christina, will you make sense for once in your life?" Lyon demanded.

She realized then she should simply have lied to him again. The truth was often more upsetting, more complex than a simple fabrication. Still, it was a little too late to fashion another lie now. Lyon looked as if he wanted to shout. "I'm trying to make sense, Lyon. You see, even though the battle wasn't much to boast about, you did fight like a warrior."

"And?"

"Well, it's perfectly clear to me."

"Christina." His voice was low, angry.

"You aren't going to be an easy man to kill. There, now you have the full truth. Does it satisfy you?"

Lyon nodded, giving her the impression he understood what she was talking about. He knew in that moment that nothing the woman ever said to him in the future would confuse him. No, he'd just reached his limit. A man could only take so many surprises, he told himself.

Then he tried to concentrate on the new puzzle she'd handed him. "Are you telling me you'll try to kill me once we're wed, but because I can defend myself, you might not be able to accomplish the deed? And that is why you're marrying me?"

He had to shake his head when he'd finished his illogical conclusions.

"Of course not," Christina answered. "How shameful of you to think I'd want to harm you. You've a devious mind, Lyon."

"All right," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "I apologize for jumping to such unsavory conclusions."

Christina looked suspicious. "Well, I would hope so," she muttered. "I shall accept your apology," she added grudgingly. "You look contrite enough to make me believe you're sincere."

Lyon vowed he wasn't going to lose his patience. He wasn't as certain about his mind, however. Christina was making mincemeat out of all his thoughts. God help him, he was going to get a clear answer out of her, no matter how long it took. "Christina," he began, keeping his voice soothing enough to lull an infant, "since you've decided I'm not an easy man to kill-and I do appreciate your faith in me, by the way-do you happen to know who's going to try?"

"Try what?"

"To kill me."

The man really needed to learn how to control his temper. Christina had just opened the door again. She smiled at Aunt Harriett, saw the poor woman was about to speak, but shut the door in her face before she could get a word out. She didn't want the woman to overhear her answer.

"My father. He's coming back to England. He'll try to kill me. I promise to protect you, Lyon, for as long as I'm here. When I go away again, he'll leave you alone."

"Christina, if he's going to try to kill you, why do you think to protect me?"

"Oh, he'll have to kill you first. It's the only way he'll be able to get to me," she reasoned. "You're a very possessive man, Lyon. Yes, you are," she added when she thought he was about to protest. "You'll guard me."

Lyon was suddenly feeling extremely pleased but didn't have the faintest idea why. Had she just given him a compliment? He couldn't be sure.

He decided to make certain. "Then you trust me," he announced.

She looked astonished. "Trust a white man? Never."

Christina jerked the door open and set about smoothing the bluster out of Aunt Harriett. It was a difficult undertaking, for her mind was still occupied with Lyon 's outrageous conclusion. Trust him? Where in God's name had he come by that ridiculous notion?

"It's about time, young lady. A woman could grow old waiting for you."

"Aunt Harriett, I appreciate your patience. And you were so right. A good talk with Lyon has resolved all my worries. Will you show me to my room now? I would like to help the maid unpack my gowns. Do you think there's enough room here for my aunt when she returns to London next week? The Countess will be displeased when she learns I've moved away."

Her ploy worked. Aunt Harriett immediately lost her puzzled expression. The urge to take charge overrode all other considerations. "Of course I was right. Now come along with me. Did you know Diana has invited several people over for the afternoon? Quite a number have already arrived. They're all very anxious to meet you, Christina."

The door clicked shut on Aunt Harriett's enthusiastic remarks.

Lyon walked back over to the windows. He saw the gathering in the garden below, then dismissed the guests from his mind.

The puzzle was taking shape. Lyon concentrated on the new item he believed to be true. Christina did think her father was going to come back to England.

To kill her.

The frightened look in her eyes, the way her voice had trembled, told him she was, for once, giving him the truth. She knew far more than she was telling, however. Lyon guessed the only reason she'd admitted that much to him was to put him on his guard.

She was trying to protect him. He didn't know if he should feel insulted or happy. She had taken on his duty. But she was right. He was possessive. Christina belonged to him, and he wasn't about to let anyone harm her. They'd have to kill him first in order to get to her.

How had she ever come by such conclusions about her father? Lyon remembered how emphatic Sir Reynolds had been when he told him Christina had never even met her father.

None of it made sense, unless Christina's mother had lived longer than anyone believed and had handed down her fears to her daughter… or possibly left the fears with someone else.

Who had raised Christina? It surely wasn't the

Summertons, Lyon thought with a smile. What a little liar she was. Though he should have been furious with her for deceiving him, he was actually amused. He sensed she'd fabricated the story just to placate him.

How simple it would be if only she'd tell him the whole truth. Christina wouldn't, of course, but at least now he understood her reason. She didn't trust him.

No, he corrected himself, she didn't trust white men.

She'd meant to say Englishmen… or had she?

The key to the riddle rested in the missionary's hands. Lyon knew he'd have to be patient. Bryan had sent him a note telling him that Mick had remembered the man's name. He was called Claude Deavenrue.

Lyon had immediately dispatched two of his loyal men in search of Deavenrue. Although he knew the missionary had told Mick he was going to stop in England on his way back from France to pay Christina a visit, Lyon wasn't about to put his faith in that possibility. There was always the chance Deavenrue might change his mind, or that Mick had been wrong in what he'd heard.

No, Lyon wasn't taking any risks. It had suddenly become imperative that he speak to the missionary as soon as possible. His reasons for finding out about Christina's past had changed, however. A feeling of unease had settled in his mind. She was in danger. He wasn't certain if her father was the true threat, but all his instincts were telling him to beware. The urge to protect Christina fairly overwhelmed him. Lyon had learned long ago to trust his instincts. The scar on his forehead had been the result of one of those foolish instances when he hadn't heeded their warning.

Lyon hoped the missionary would be able to shed some light on the mystery, to tell him enough about Christina's past to help him protect her. Lyon had already drawn his own conclusions. From all her comments, he decided she was probably raised by one of those courageous frontier families he'd heard about. He even pictured Christina inside a small log cabin somewhere in the wilderness beyond the colonies. That would explain the facts that she liked to go barefooted, loved the outdoors, had heard the sounds of mountain lions, and had possibly seen a buffalo or two.

Yes, that explanation made good sense to Lyon, but he wasn't going to hold firm to that easy conclusion until he had confirmation from Deavenrue.

Lyon let out a long, weary sigh. He was satisfied that he was doing all he could for the moment. Then his mind turned to another troubling thought. Christina kept insisting she was going to go home.

Lyon vowed to find a reason to make her want to stay.

A loud knock on the door interrupted Lyon 's thoughts. "Have time for us, Lyon?" Rhone asked from the doorway. "Lord, you're scowling like a devil," he remarked in a cheerful voice. "Don't let it put you off, Andrew," he told the young man standing beside him. " Lyon is always in a foul mood. Had another recent conversation with Christina, perchance?" he asked, his voice as bland as the color of his beige jacket. When Lyon nodded, Rhone started chuckling. "Andrew has yet to meet your intended, Lyon. I thought you would like to do the introductions."

"Good to see you again, Andrew," Lyon said, trying to sound as if he meant it. He hadn't wanted to be interrupted; he didn't want to be civil, and he glared just that message to Rhone.

His friend was tugging on the sleeve of his jacket, probably trying to keep his bandage concealed, Lyon thought. The man had no business being out and about yet. Lyon would have pointed out that fact if they'd been alone. Then he decided Rhone had deliberately dragged Andrew with him up to the library to avoid an argument.

"The ladies are outside in the garden," Rhone said, ignoring the black look his friend was giving him. He strolled over to the windows where Lyon stood, then motioned for Andrew to follow.

Rhone 's companion made a wide berth around Lyon to stand beside Rhone. His face was red, his manner timid. "Perhaps I should wait downstairs," Andrew remarked with a noticeable stammer. "We have intruded upon the Marquess," he ended in a whisper to Rhone.

"There's Christina, Andrew," Rhone announced, pretending he hadn't heard his complaint. "She's standing between two other ladies, in front of the hedges. I don't recognize the pretty one speaking to her now," Rhone continued. "Do you know who the other blonde is, Lyon?"

Lyon looked down at the flutter of activity below. His sister had obviously invited half the ton to her afternoon party, he decided.

He found Christina almost immediately. He thought she looked confused by all the attention she was getting. The women all appeared to be talking to her at the same time.

Then one of the gentlemen began to sing a ballad. Everyone immediately turned toward the sound. The doors to the music room had been opened, and someone was playing the spinet in the background.

Christina liked music. The fact was obvious to Lyon. The way her gown floated around her ankles indicated she was enjoying the song. Her hips were keeping gentle rhythm.

She was so enchanting. Her smile of pleasure made Lyon feel at peace again. Christina looked quite mesmerized. Lyon watched as she reached out and tore a leaf from the hedge, then began to twirl it between her fingers as she continued to sway to the music.

He thought she didn't even realize what she was doing. Her gaze was directed on the gentleman singing the song, her manner relaxed, unguarded.

Lyon knew she wasn't aware she was being watched, either. She wouldn't have eaten the leaf otherwise, or reached for another.

"Sir, which one is Princess Christina?" Andrew asked Lyon, just as Rhone started in choking on his laughter.

Rhone had obviously been watching Christina, too.

"Sir?"

"The blond-headed one," Lyon muttered, shaking his head. He watched in growing disbelief as Christina daintily popped another leaf into her mouth.

"Which blond-headed one?" Andrew persisted.

"The one eating the shrubs."