The Lion's Lady

Chapter Fifteen

Lyon didn't return to his townhouse until the early hours of the morning. It had been a thoroughly satisfying evening all around. The look on Rhone 's face when he was being robbed by the man pretending to be Jack would live in Lyon 's memory a good long while.

Yes, it had all been worth his efforts. The charges against Rhone would be dropped by tomorrow at the latest. Everyone now believed Rhone 's story that he'd injured his wrist by accident when he'd fallen on a piece of jagged glass.

Wellingham had been made to look like a fool. That thought pleased Lyon. He wasn't through with that bastard-or the other three, for that matter-but Lyon knew he'd have to wait before making their lives as miserable as he had planned. Rhone 's father would be avenged. The four thieves were going to regret the day they'd decided to make Rhone 's family their target. Lyon would see to it.

Christina was sound asleep on the floor next to his side of the bed. Lyon undressed quickly, then lifted his wife into his arms, careful to avoid being pricked by the knife under her blanket. Put her where she belonged-in his bed. He wrapped his arms around her until she was snuggled against his chest.

He'd have to do something about the soft mattresses, he supposed. He smiled as he remembered Christina telling him on their wedding night that the bed was trying to swallow her up.

She hadn't fallen out of bed. No wonder she'd laughed when he'd announced that she had. Lyon fervently hoped she'd get used to the bed. He didn't relish the idea of bedding down on the ground, but he would do it, he realized with a sigh, if it was the only way he could hold her.

Compromise. The word whispered through his mind. It was a foreign concept to him. Until Christina. Perhaps now, he decided, it was time to practice it.

Lyon was eager for morning to come. After explaining his reason for being so angry with her when he'd found her at Bryan 's tavern, he'd ease into the issue of her safety. He'd make her understand he only had her best interests at heart, and that she couldn't go flitting about town without proper escort.

And she would learn to compromise.

Lyon wasn't able to lecture his wife the following morning. She wasn't there to listen to him.

He didn't wake up until noon -an amazing fact, for he rarely slept more than three hours at a stretch. He felt rested, ready to take on the world. More exactly, he was ready to take on his wife, and he hurried in his dress so that he could go downstairs to begin her instruction.

Lyon had jumped to the erroneous conclusion that Christina would actually be waiting for him.

"What do you mean? She can't be gone!"

His bellow frightened the timid servant. "The Marchioness left several hours ago, my lord," he stammered out. "With Brown and the other men. Have you forgotten your orders to your wife? I heard the Marchioness tell Brown you had insisted she return to Lyonwood immediately."

"Yes, I did forget," Lyon muttered. He lied to his servant, of course. He hadn't given any such instructions. Yet he wasn't about to let a member of his staff know Christina wasn't telling the truth. It wasn't her character he was protecting but his own. Lyon didn't want anyone to know the lack of control he had over her.

It was humiliating. Lyon grumbled about that sorry fact until a sudden thought made him cheer up a bit. Christina must have been nervous to leave so quickly. Perhaps she'd realized the significance of her actions yesterday.

Lyon at first thought to go to Lyonwood immediately, then decided to let Christina stew in her own worries for most of the day. By the time he arrived home she might even be contrite.

Yes, time and silence were his allies. He hoped he'd have her apology by nightfall.

Lyon spent an hour going over estate details, then decided to stop by his mother's townhouse to tell Diana about Rhone. He was given a surprise when he barged into the drawing room and found Rhone sitting on the settee with his arm draped around Diana.

"Am I interrupting?" he drawled.

His entrance didn't seem to bother either one of them. Diana's head continued to rest on Rhone 's shoulder, and his friend didn't even glance up.

"Here's Lyon now, sweetling. Quit crying. He'll know what's to be done."

Lyon barked orders as he strode over to the fireplace. " Rhone, get your arm off my sister. Diana, sit up and behave with a little decorum, for God's sake. What are you crying about?"

His sister tried to comply with his command, but as soon as she straightened up Rhone pulled her back, forcing the side of her cheek onto his shoulder again.

"You stay right there. I'm comforting her, damn it, Lyon, and that's that."

Lyon decided he'd have to deal with his friend later. "Tell me why you're crying, Diana. Now. I'm in a hurry," he added.

"You don't need to raise your voice to her, Lyon." Rhone glared at his friend. "She's had an upset."

"Will one of you please tell me what the hell the upset was?"

"Mama." Diana wailed. She pulled away from Rhone to dab at her eyes with her lace handkerchief. "Christina took her."

"She what?" Lyon asked, shaking his head in confusion.

"Your wife took your mother to Lyonwood with her," Rhone said.

"And that's why Diana's crying?" Lyon asked, trying to get to the bottom of the matter.

Rhone was trying not to laugh. His eyes sparkled with merriment. "It is," he said as he patted Diana's shoulder.

Lyon sat down across from his sister and waited for her to get hold of herself. She looked like a butterfly, he thought, dressed in a yellow gown with brown trim. Her tears were making a mess of the gown.

"Diana," he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice, "You needn't be afraid that I'm angry because my wife took our mother with her. That's why you're crying, isn't it?"

"No."

"You wanted Mother to stay here?"

When she shook her head and continued to sob, Lyon 's patience wore out. "Well?"

"Mama didn't want to go," Diana cried. " Rhone, you tell him. You saw what happened. I just don't know what to think. And Aunt Harriett laughing like a loon the whole time. Oh, I didn't know what-"

" Rhone, do you care about Diana?"

"I do. Very much."

"Then I suggest you quiet her down before I strangle her. Diana, stop that snorting."

"I'll explain, my sweet," Rhone told Diana in a tender, soothing voice.

Lyon hid his exasperation. Rhone was acting like a lovesick puppy.

"Your mama denied Christina's request to go along with her to Lyonwood, you see. And that's when the fireworks began."

Rhone couldn't control his smile. Diana was weeping into his jacket now, so he felt safe grinning. "Your wife was very determined to take your mother with her. So determined, in fact, that she… well, she dragged your mother out of bed."

"You're jesting."

"Mama didn't want to go."

"Obviously," Lyon drawled. "Did Christina explain her reasons for being so forceful?"

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, but his sister was watching him intently, and he didn't want to upset her further by letting her see his amusement.

Rhone didn't help his determination to shield his sister's feelings. "You should have seen it, Lyon. Your mother is a strong woman. I never realized that fact. I thought she'd been languishing these past years, but she did put up quite a fight. Of course, that was only after…"

"After what?" Lyon asked, thoroughly puzzled by his wife's conduct.

"Mama told Christina she wanted to stay where she was. She had people coming to call, and she wanted to talk to them about James, of course," Diana said to Lyon.

"Yes, well, that's when Christina asked your mother if her heart had died."

"I don't understand," Lyon announced, shaking his head.

"I didn't either," Rhone answered. "Anyway, your mother said that since James had died, her heart was also dead… whatever in God's name that means."

Lyon smiled then. He couldn't help himself. "My mother is a professional mourner, Rhone. You know that well enough."

"Was," Rhone drawled out. "Christina had gotten your mother down into the entryway by this time. Your aunt, Diana, and I were standing there, watching the two ladies, wondering what was going on. Then Christina explained it all to us."

"She's going to kill Mama."

"Now, Diana, that isn't what she said," Rhone said. He patted her shoulder, then turned to grin at Lyon again.

" Rhone, will you get on with it?"

"Christina told your mother that where she came from-and God only knows where that is-an old warrior who was broken in spirit and in heart would go into the wilderness."

"What for?" Lyon asked.

"Why, to find a nice, secluded spot in which to die, of course. Needless to say, your mother didn't take kindly to being called an old warrior."

Lyon stared at the ceiling a long minute before daring to look at his friend again. He was dangerously close to laughing. "No, I don't suppose she would," he whispered.

"Well, part of it is Mama's own fault," Diana interjected. "If she hadn't agreed that her heart was broken, Christina wouldn't have insisted on taking her with her. She told Mama she'd help her find a lovely spot."

"That was good of her," Lyon said.

" Lyon, Mama hadn't had her chocolate yet. She hadn't had her maids pack any of her possessions, either. Christina told her it didn't matter. One didn't have to pack when one was going to die. Those were her very words."

"Your mother started shouting then," Rhone announced.

" Rhone wouldn't let me interfere," Diana whispered, "and Aunt Harriett was laughing."

"Not until your mother was inside the carriage," Rhone commented.

"Was she shouting James's name?" Lyon asked.

"Well… no, of course not," Diana muttered. "What has that got to do with anything?"

Neither Rhone nor Lyon could answer her. They were too busy laughing.

It took Lyon several minutes before he could speak again. "I guess I'd better get back to Lyonwood."

"What if Christina hides Mama somewhere in the countryside and won't tell you where?"

"Do you really believe Christina would harm your mama?" Rhone asked.

"No," Diana whispered. "But she sounded as though it was the most natural thing for… an old warrior to do." Diana let out a loud sigh. "Christina has some unusual notions, doesn't she?"

"She's bluffing, Diana. She's pretending to give our mother what she wants."

" Lyon, would you like me to ride along with you to Lyonwood?" Rhone asked.

Lyon could tell by the gleam in his friend's green eyes that he was up to mischief. "Why do you offer?" he asked.

"I could help you search the estate," Rhone drawled.

"Very amusing," Lyon snapped. "Now see what you've done? Diana's crying again. You deal with it, Rhone. I don't have time. Come down to Lyonwood this weekend with Aunt Harriett and Diana."

Lyon strolled over to the doorway, then called over his shoulder, "If I haven't found your mother by then, Diana, you can help search."

Rhone contained his smile. "He's only jesting, sweetheart. Now, now, let me hold you, love. You can cry on my shoulder."

Lyon closed the door on Rhone 's soothing voice. He shook his head in vexation. He'd been so wrapped up in his own life, he hadn't realized Rhone was falling in love with Diana.

Rhone was a good friend… but a brother-in-law… Lyon would have to adjust to that possibility.

Christina wouldn't be surprised by the attraction. No, she'd been the one to instruct Rhone on his destiny, Lyon recalled with a smile.

Ah, destiny. He decided it was now his destiny to go home and kiss his wife.

The desire to take Christina into his arms, to make slow, sweet love to her, made the journey back to Lyonwood seem much longer than usual.

The sun was just setting when Lyon rode toward the circle drive in front of his house. He squinted against the sunlight, trying to make out the sight he thought he was seeing.

As he rode closer, he recognized the man dragging his shoes down the steps. It was Elbert. What was he doing there? And what in God's name was he doing with Lyon 's boots? Lyon was close enough to see his dozens of shoes and boots lined up on the steps, the walkway.

Lyon dismounted, slapped his horse on the hindquarters as a signal to take to the stables, then called out to Christina's former butler. "Elbert? What are you doing with my shoes?"

"The madam's orders, my lord," Elbert answered. "Didn't know a man could own so many boots," he added. "Been at this task near an hour now. Up the stairs and down the stairs, then up-"

"Elbert? Give me the reason why," Lyon interrupted, his voice irritated. "And what are you doing at Lyonwood? Did Christina invite you to visit?"

"Hired me, sir," Elbert announced. "I'm to be Brown's assistant. Did you know how worried she was about me? She knew I wouldn't last with the old bat. Your misses has a good heart. I'll do my part, my lord. I won't be shirking me responsibilities to you."

Christina did have a good heart. His gentle wife knew Elbert wouldn't be able to find work with anyone else. He was simply too old, too feeble. "I'm sure you'll do fine, Elbert," Lyon said. "Glad to have you on staff."

"Thank you, my lord," Elbert returned.

Lyon noticed Brown standing in the open doorway then. His butler looked upset. "Good afternoon, my lord," Brown called out. "It is so very good to have you back," he added. His voice sounded strained to Lyon, relieved as well. "Did you see your shoes, sir?"

"I'm not blind, man. Of course I saw them. Would you care to explain what in thunderation is going on?"

"Your wife's orders," Brown announced.

"Past wife," Elbert interjected with a cackle.

Lyon took a deep breath. "What are you talking about?" He addressed his question to Brown, believing his young butler would make more sense than the old man snickering with laughter behind him.

"You're being divorced, my lord."

"I'm what?"

Brown's shoulders sagged. He knew his lord wasn't going to take the news well. "Divorced."

"Cast out, my lord, pushed aside, forgotten, dead in her heart-"

"I get your meaning, Elbert," Lyon muttered in exasperation. "I'm aware of what the word divorce means."

Lyon continued into the house. The old servant shuffled after him. "Those were her very words. My mistress is divorcing you the way her people do. She said it was quite all right to get rid of a husband. You have to find someplace else to live."

"I what?" Lyon asked, certain he hadn't heard correctly.

Brown's insistent nod indicated he had.

"You're cast out, pushed aside-"

"For God's sake, Elbert, cease your litany," Lyon demanded. He turned back to Brown. "What is the significance of the shoes?"

"They signify your departure, my lord," Brown said.

The butler tried not to stare at the incredulous look on his master's face. He was in jeopardy of losing his control. He stared at the floor instead.

"Let me get this straight in my mind," Lyon muttered. "My wife believes the house belongs to her?"

"And your mother, of course," Brown blurted out. "She's keeping her."

Brown was biting his lower lip. Lyon thought he might be trying not to laugh.

"Of course," Lyon drawled.

Elbert tried to be helpful once again. "It's the way her people do," he interjected, his voice gratingly cheerful.

"Where is my wife?" Lyon asked, ignoring Elbert's comments.

He didn't wait for his servants to answer him but took the steps two at a time to reach the bedrooms. A sudden thought made him pause. "Did she cut her hair?" he called out.

"She did," Elbert shouted before Brown could open his mouth. "It's the way of it," Elbert insisted. "Once the hair's cut-well, then you're as good as dead to her. You're set aside, cast-"

"I've gotten her message," Lyon shouted. "Brown, bring my shoes inside. Elbert, go sit somewhere."

"My lord?" Brown called out.

"Yes?"

"Do the French really follow these laws?"

Lyon contained his smile. "Did my wife say it was the law?" he asked.

"Yes, my lord."

"And she told you she was from France?" he asked his butler.

Brown nodded.

"Then it must be true," Lyon announced. "I would like a bath, Brown. Leave the shoes until later," he added before turning back to his destination.

Lyon smiled. There were times when he forgot just how young and inexperienced Brown was. Of course, he'd been lied to by someone who radiated innocence and sincerity. Christina.

His wife wasn't waiting for him in their bedroom. He really hadn't expected her to be there. The sun still gave sufficient light for her to stay outdoors. Lyon doubted she'd return to the house until darkness forced her to do so.

Lyon walked over to the windows to look out at the setting sun. It was a magnificent sight, and one he'd never taken the time to notice until he'd married Christina. She had opened his eyes to the wonders of life.

And the wonder of love. Yes, he did love her, so ferociously it almost frightened him. If anything happened to her, Lyon didn't know how he'd be able to go on.

That odious thought wouldn't have intruded on his peace of mind if he hadn't been so concerned about Christina's reunion with her father. Lyon was more than uneasy.

She believed he'd try to kill her. Richards hadn't been able to tell Lyon much about Christina's father, but the fact that Stalinsky had been involved in the Brisbane affair, with such shameful results, worried Lyon.

How simple it would be if Christina would trust him, confide in him. Lord, he felt as if he was being asked to fence with an enemy with a blindfold tied around his eyes.

Equal measure. Wasn't that what he wanted from Christina?

The truth hit him like a blow. He'd demanded from his wife what he'd been unwilling to give her. Trust. Yes, he wanted her absolute trust, yet he hadn't let her know how much he trusted her. No, he told himself with a shake of his head, his sin was worse. He hadn't opened his heart to her.

Christina had only questioned him once about his past. When they were on their way to Lyonwood, she'd asked him to tell her about his first wife, Lettie.

His answers had been abrupt. He'd let her know the subject wasn't one he would discuss.

She hadn't asked him again.

Yes, he was getting equal measure.

The door opened behind him. Lyon glanced over his shoulder and saw the servants carrying the tub and pails of steaming water into the room.

He turned back to the landscape and was in the process of drawing off his jacket when he saw Christina.

His breath caught in his throat. The sight was more magnificent than the sunset. Christina was riding bareback. The gray stallion she'd chosen was racing across the grounds with such speed his legs were a blur.

She rode like the wind. Her golden hair flew out behind her. Her back was as straight as a lance, and when she directed her mount over the hedge that separated the wilderness from the immediate grounds, Lyon started breathing again.

Christina was far more skilled than he was. That fact became obvious as he continued to watch her. He was arrogantly pleased, as if her skill somehow reflected on him. "She's my lioness," he whispered, excusing his reaction.

She was so incredibly graceful… and he had offered to teach her how to ride.

Another incorrect assumption, Lyon realized. As incorrect as believing he would actually gain an apology from her for yesterday's folly.

Lyon was chuckling to himself as he stripped off his clothes. He ignored his servants' worried glances. He knew they weren't used to hearing him laugh. Then he stretched out in the long tub, his shoulders propped against the back. Brown was occupied getting fresh clothing ready for him.

"I'll take care of that," Lyon told his butler. "You may leave now."

Brown started for the door, then hesitated. When he turned around to look at his employer, his expression showed his concern.

"What is it?" Lyon asked.

"My lord, I would never presume to intrude upon your private affairs, but I was wondering if you'll be honoring your wife's decision."

Lyon had to remind himself that Brown was very young and hadn't been in his household long enough to know his lord's ways well. He'd never have asked such a ridiculous question otherwise. "Why, of course, Brown," Lyon drawled out.

"Then you'll let her divorce you?" Brown blurted out, clearly stunned.

"I believe she already did divorce me," Lyon answered with a grin.

The butler wasn't at all happy with that announcement. "I shall miss you, my lord."

"She's keeping you, too?" Lyon asked.

Brown nodded. He looked miserable. "My lady explained that we are part of her family now."

"We?"

"She's keeping the full staff, my lord."

Lyon started laughing. "I really wish you'd stay," Brown blurted out.

"Quit worrying, Brown. I'm not going anywhere," Lyon announced. "As soon as my wife walks into the house, send her to me. If she can divorce me so easily, then there must be a quick way to remarry again. This little problem will be resolved by nightfall, I promise you."

"Thank God," Brown whispered. He hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Brown could hear his lord's laughter all the way down the hall.

Christina met the butler at the bottom of the steps. When he informed her that the Marquess was upstairs and wished an audience with her, she gave him a disgruntled look before giving in to his request.

When she walked into the bedroom, she came to a sudden stop.

"Close the door, sweetheart."

Christina did as he asked, but only because she wished privacy for their confrontation. "Did you enjoy your ride?" Lyon asked.

The mildness in his tone confused her. Christina was ready for a fight. Lyon didn't seem to be in an accommodating mood. " Lyon," she began, deliberately avoiding his gaze, "I don't think you realize what I've done."

"Of course I do, my dear," Lyon answered, in such a cheerful voice that Christina was more confused than ever. "You're going to have to start all over. You'll have to court me, though now that you are aware of my… unusual upbringing, I doubt you'll-"

"All right."

Christina looked at him. "All right? That is all you have to say to me?" She shook her head, let out a long sigh, and then whispered, "You don't understand."

"Yes, I do. You've just cast me aside. Elbert explained."

"You aren't upset?"

"No."

"Well, why not? You told me you loved me," Christina said. She moved a step closer to Lyon. "Your words were false, weren't they? Now that you know-"

"They weren't false," Lyon answered. He leaned back and closed his eyes. "God, this feels good. I tell you, Christina, the ride from London gets longer every time."

She couldn't believe his casual attitude. Christina felt like weeping. "You cannot humiliate me and then act as though nothing has happened. A warrior would kill another for such an offense," she told him.

"Ah, but you aren't a warrior, Christina. You're my wife."

"Was."

He didn't even open his eyes to look at her when he asked,

"Exactly what did I do?"

"You don't know?" She had to take a deep breath before she could go on. "You shouted at me in front of a witness. You shamed me. You disgraced me."

"Who was the witness?" Lyon asked, in such a soft voice that she had to move a bit closer to hear him.

" Bryan," Christina announced.

"Didn't I yell at you in front of Richards, too? I seem to remember-"

"That was different."

"Why?"

"You were shouting because I fainted. You weren't angry with me. Surely you can see the difference."

"I do now," Lyon admitted. "Do you wonder why I shouted at you in front of Bryan?"

"No."

Lyon opened his eyes. His irritation was obvious. "You scared the hell out of me," he announced. Each word was clipped, hard.

"I what?"

"Don't look so surprised, Christina. When I walked inside that tavern and found you sitting so peacefully in the midst of the worse scum in England, my mind could barely take it in. Then you had the gall to smile at me, as if you were happy to see me."

He had to stop talking. The memory was making him angry again.

"I was happy to see you. Did you doubt that I was?" she asked.

Her hands rested on her hips. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and continued to frown at him. "Well?" she demanded.

"Did you cut your hair again?"

"I did. It is all part of the ritual of mourning," Christina announced.

"Christina, if you cut your hair every time you're unhappy with me, you'll be bald in a month's time. I promise you."

Lyon drew a long breath, then said, "Let me get this straight inside my mind. I'm never to raise my voice to you in future? Christina, it won't work. There will be times when I shout at you."

"I don't care if you raise your voice to me," Christina muttered. "I shall also let my temper show on occasion." she admitted. "But I would never, ever let an outsider see my displeasure. That was the humiliation, Lyon."

"Oh? Then I should have dragged you into the back room to shout at you in privacy?" he asked.

"Yes, you should have," Christina agreed.

"You took a foolish risk, Christina. You were in danger, whether you realized it or not. I want your apology and your promise never to take such a risk again."

"I shall have to think about it," she said. Now that she was forced to consider what he was saying to her, she realized she had been in a bit of danger. There were too many men in Bryan 's tavern for her to subdue… if they'd all decided to challenge her at the same time. She'd thought she'd gained the upper hand, though, after the single challenger had backed down… and after she'd mentioned her husband was the Marquess of Lyonwood. "Yes," she repeated, "I shall have to think about these promises you want from me."

She could tell from Lyon 's ferocious expression that he didn't care for her honest answer. "I warned you that it wouldn't be easy for you," she whispered.

"That's what this is really all about, isn't it?"

"I've just said-"

"You're testing me, aren't you, Christina?"

She made the mistake of getting too close to the tub, realizing her error a second too late. Lyon grabbed her and pulled her down into his lap. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub.

"You've ruined my gown," Christina gasped.

"I've ruined others," Lyon told her when she quit struggling. He cupped the sides of her face and made her look at him. "I love you."

Her eyes filled with tears. "You humiliated me."

"I love you," Lyon repeated in a harsh whisper. "I'm sorry you felt humiliated," he added.

"You're sorry?"

A single tear slid down her cheek. Lyon wiped it away with his thumb.

"I'm sorry I frightened you," she whispered. "I shall try not to do it again."

"Tell me you love me," Lyon demanded.

"I love you."

"Should I believe you?" he asked. His voice was husky, coaxing.

"Yes," Christina answered. She tried to push his hands away when she realized he was actually insulting her. "Of course you should believe me."

"But you don't believe me when I tell you I love you," Lyon said. "You have it in your head that it's only a temporary condition, don't you?" He kissed her slowly, tenderly, hoping to take the sting out of his gentle rebuke. "When you learn to trust me completely, you'll know I won't change my mind. My love is forever, Christina."

Lyon didn't give her time to argue over that fact. He kissed her again. His tongue flicked over her soft lips until they parted for him.

And then he began to ravage her mouth.

Christina tried to protest. " Lyon, I must-"

"Get your clothes off," Lyon interrupted. He was already pulling apart the fastenings on the back of her gown.

No, she hadn't meant to say that. But her thoughts got confused inside her mind. Lyon had pulled her gown down to her waist. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs rubbed her nipples, forced her response. His mouth had never seemed so warm, so inviting.

There was more water on the floor than in the tub. Lyon didn't seem to mind. He was determined, and he had Christina stripped out of her soggy clothes in little time.

Christina didn't want to struggle. She put her arms around his neck and let out a soft sigh. "The water isn't very hot," she whispered against his ear.

"I am."

"What?"

"Hot."

" Lyon? I want-"

"Me, inside you," Lyon whispered. His mouth feasted on the side of her neck. His warm breath sent shivers down her spine. "You want to feel me inside you," he rasped out. "Hard. Hot. I'll try to go slow, but you'll want me harder, faster, until I'm touching your womb and you're begging me for release."

Christina's head fell back so that Lyon could kiss more of her throat. His dark promise of what was to come made her throat tighten and her heartbeat quicken. "I'll stay inside you until I'm hard again, won't I, Christina? And then I'll pleasure you again."

His mouth settled on hers for another long, drugging kiss. "That's what you want, isn't it, my sweet?"

"Yes," Christina answered. She sighed against his mouth. "It's what I want."

"Then marry me. Now," Lyon demanded. He kissed her again as a precaution against any protest. "Hurry, Christina. I want to… Christina, don't move like that," Lyon ground out. "It's torture."

"You like it."

She whispered the truth against his shoulder, then nipped his skin with her teeth, her nails. She moved again to straddle his hips, rubbing her breasts against his chest.

Yet when she tried to take Lyon inside her, he wouldn't allow it. His hands settled on the sides of her hips, holding her away from his arousal.

"Not yet, Christina," he groaned. "Are we still divorced inside your head?"

" Lyon, please," Christina begged.

He drew her up against him until her heat rested on the flat of his stomach. His fingers found her, slowly penetrated her. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked with a growl.

"No, don't stop."

"Are we married?"

Christina gave in. "Yes, Lyon. You were supposed to court me first." She moaned when he increased the pressure. She bit his bottom lip, then opened her mouth for him again.

"Compromise," Lyon whispered as he slowly pushed her downward and began to penetrate her.

She didn't understand what he was saying to her, thought to at least try to question him, but Lyon suddenly shifted.

His movement was forceful, deliberate. Christina couldn't speak, couldn't think. Lyon was pulling her into the sun. Soon, when she could bear the scorching heat no longer, he would give her sweet release. Christina clung to her warrior in blissful surrender.

"We should have gone downstairs for dinner. I don't want your mother to think she can hide in her bedroom. She must eat all her meals with us in future, husband."

Lyon ignored his wife's comments. He pulled her up against his side, draped the bed covers over her legs when he noticed she was trembling, then began to tickle her shoulder with his fingers.

"Christina? Didn't your father ever yell at you when you were a little girl?"

She turned and rested her chin on his chest before she answered him. "That's an odd question to put to me. Yes, Father did yell."

"But never in front of others?" Lyon asked.

"Well, there was one time when he lost his temper," she admitted. "I was too little to remember the incident, but my mother and the shaman liked to tell the story."

"Shaman?"

"Our holy man," Christina explained. "Like the one who married us. My shaman doesn't ever wear a cone on his head, though." She ended her comment with a dainty shrug.

"What was the reason for your father to lose his temper?" Lyon asked.

"You'll not laugh?"

"I won't laugh."

Christina turned her gaze to stare at his chest so that his golden eyes wouldn't break her concentration. "My brother carried home a beautiful snake. Father was very pleased."

"He was?"

"It was a fine snake, Lyon."

"I see."

She could hear the smile in his voice but didn't take exception. "Mother was also pleased. I must have watched the way my brother held his prize, and the shaman said I was envious of the attention given my brother, too, for I went out to capture a snake of my own. No one could find me for several hours. I was very little and in constant mischief."

"Ah, so that is why your father lost his temper," Lyon announced. "Your disappearance must have-"

"No, that isn't the reason," Christina interjected. "Though of course he was unhappy that I'd left the safety of the village."

"Well, then?" Lyon prodded when she didn't immediately continue with her story.

"Everyone was frantically searching for me when I strutted back into the village. Mama said I always strutted because I tried to imitate my brother's swagger. White Eagle walked like a proud warrior, you see."

The memory of the story she'd heard so many times during her growing years made her smile. "And did you have a snake with you when you strutted back into the village?" Lyon asked.

"Oh, yes," she answered. "The shaman recounted that I held it just as my brother had held his snake. Father was standing on the far side of the fires. Mother stood beside him. Neither showed any outward reaction to my prize. They didn't want to frighten me into dropping the snake, I was told later. Anyway," she added with a sigh, "Father walked over to me. He took the snake out of my hand, killed it, and then began to shout at me. Mother knew I didn't understand. Father had praised my brother, you see, yet he was yelling at me."

"Why do you think that was?" Lyon asked, already dreading her answer.

"My brother's snake wasn't poisonous."

"Oh, God."

The tremble in her husband's voice made her laugh. "Father was soon over his anger. The shaman announced that the spirits had protected me. I was their lioness, you see. Mama said Father was also sorry for making me cry. He took me riding with him that afternoon and let me sit on his lap during the evening meal."

The parallel was too good to pass up. "Your father was frightened," Lyon announced. "He loved you, Christina-so much so that when he saw the danger you were in, his discipline deserted him. Just like my discipline deserted me when I saw the danger you were in yesterday."

He dragged her up on top of him so he could look into her eyes. "It was his duty to keep my lioness safe for me."

Christina slowly nodded. "I think you would like my father. You're very like him in many ways. You're just as arrogant. Oh, don't frown, Lyon. I give you a compliment when I say you're arrogant. You're full of bluster, too."

She sounded too sincere for Lyon to take insult. "What is your father's name?" he asked.

"Black Wolf."

"Will he like me?"

"No."

He wasn't insulted by her abrupt answer. In truth, he was close to laughing. "Care to tell me why not?"

"He hates the whites. Doesn't trust them."

"That's why you have such a suspicious nature, isn't it?"

"Perhaps."

She rested the side of her face against Lyon 's shoulder.

"You're still a little suspicious of me, too, aren't you?"

"I don't know," she admitted with a sigh.

"I trust you, my sweet. Completely."

She didn't show any reaction.

"Christina, I want equal measure. I will have your trust. And not just for a day or two. Those are my terms."

She slowly lifted her head to stare at Lyon. "And if I'm unable to meet your terms?" she asked.

He saw the worry in her eyes. "You tell me," he whispered.

"You'll set me aside," she whispered.

He shook his head. "No."

"No? Then what?"

He wanted to kiss her frown away. "I'll wait. I'll still love you. In your heart you really don't believe me, do you? You think you'll do something to displease me and I'll quit loving you. It won't happen, Christina."

She was humbled by his fervent words. "I worry." Her confession was whispered in a forlorn voice. "There are times when I don't think I shall ever fit in. I'm like a circle trying to squeeze into a square."

"Everyone feels like that at times," Lyon told her, smiling over her absurd analogy. "You're vulnerable. Are there times when you still want to go home?"

His hands caressed her shoulders while he waited for her answer. "I couldn't leave you," she answered. "And I couldn't take you back with me. You're my family now, Lyon." Her frown intensified. "It really isn't going to be easy for you, living with me."

"Marriage is never easy in the beginning," he answered. "We both have to learn to compromise. In time we'll understand each other's needs."

"Your family and your staff will think me odd."

"They already do."

Her frown was forced now, and a sparkle appeared in her eyes. "That was unkind of you to say," she told him.

"No, it was an honest admission. They think I'm odd, too. Do you care so much what others think of you, Christina?"

She shook her head. "Only you, Lyon. I care what you think."

He showed her how pleased he was to hear her admission by kissing her.

"I also care what you think," Lyon whispered. "Will my shoes be lining the steps outside again?"

"The old ways are familiar to me," Christina explained. "I was so angry with you. It was all I could think to do to make you realize how unhappy you'd made me."

"Thank God you didn't try to leave me."

"Try?"

"You know I'd chase you down and drag you back where you belong."

"Yes, I knew you would. You are a warrior, after all."

Lyon moved Christina to his side, determined to finish their conversation before making love to her again. Her hand moved to his thigh. It was a distraction. Lyon captured both her hands and gave her a gentle squeeze. "Christina? Did you ever love another man? Was there someone back home who captured your heart?"

Her head was tucked under his chin. Christina smiled, knowing Lyon couldn't see her reaction. He'd tensed against her after he'd asked the question. He hadn't been able to keep the worry out of his voice.

He was letting her see his vulnerability. "When I was very young, I thought I'd grow up and marry White Eagle. Then, when I was seven summers or so, I put those silly thoughts aside. He was my brother, after all."

"Was there anyone else?"

"No. Father wouldn't let any of the warriors walk with me. He knew I had to return to the whites. My destiny had already been decided."

"Who decided your destiny?" Lyon asked.

"The dream."

Christina waited for his next question, but after a minute or two, when she realized he wasn't going to ask her to explain, she decided to tell him anyway.

She wanted him to understand.

The story of the shaman's journey to the top of the mountain to seek his vision captured Lyon 's full attention.

The dream made him smile. "If your mother hadn't called you a lioness, would the shaman ever have-"

"He would have sorted it all out," Christina interrupted. "I had white-blond hair and blue eyes, just like the lion in his dream. Yes, he would have sorted it out. Do you understand now how confused I was when Sir Reynolds called you Lyon? I knew in that moment that I had found my mate."

The logical part of Lyon 's mind saw all the flaws in the dream, the superstitions of the rituals. Yet he easily pushed reason aside. He didn't care if it didn't make sense. "I knew in that moment, too, that you'd belong to me."

"Both of us fought it, didn't we, Lyon?"

"That we did, love."

Christina laughed. "You never stood a fair chance, husband. Your fate had already been decided."

Lyon nodded. "Now it's your turn to ask me questions. Would you like me to tell you about Lettie?"

Christina tried to look up at Lyon, but he wouldn't let her move. "Do you want to tell me about her?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

"Yes, I do. Now ask me your questions," he commanded, his voice soft.

"Did you love her?"

"Not in the same way I love you. I was never… content. I was too young for marriage. I realize that now."

"What was she like?"

"The complete opposite of you," Lyon answered. "Lettie enjoyed the social whirl of the ton. She hated this house, the countryside. Lettie loved intrigue. I was working with Richards then. The war was coming, and I was away from home quite a lot. My brother, James, escorted Lettie to various events. While I was away, he took her to his bed."

Her indrawn breath told him she understood. Lyon had wanted to tell Christina about his first wife so that she would see how much he trusted her. Yet now that the telling had begun, the anger he'd held inside him for so long began to fade. That realization surprised him. His explanation wasn't hesitant now. "Lettie died in childbirth. The babe also. It wasn't my child, Christina. James was the father. I remember how I sat next to my wife, trying to give her comfort. God, she was in terrible pain. I pray you'll never have to endure it. Lettie wasn't aware that I was there. She kept screaming for her lover."

Christina felt like weeping. The pain of his brother's betrayal must have been unbearable. She didn't understand. How could a wife shame her husband in such a way?

She hugged Lyon but decided against offering him additional sympathy. He was a proud man. "Were you and your brother close to each other before his betrayal?" she asked.

"No."

Christina scooted away from Lyon so she could see his expression. His gaze showed only his puzzlement over her question. Lettie's sin no longer affected him, she decided.

"You never gave Lettie your heart," she announced. "It's your brother you've yet to forgive, isn't it, Lyon?"

He was amazed by her perception. "Were you close to James?" she asked again.

"No. We were very competitive when we were younger. I grew out of that nonsense, but my brother obviously didn't."

"I wonder if James wasn't like Lancelot," she whispered, "from the story of Camelot."

"And Lettie was my Guinevere?" he asked, his smile gentle.

"Perhaps," Christina answered. "Would it make his deception easier to bear if you believed it wasn't a deliberate sin?"

"It wouldn't be the truth. James wasn't Lancelot. My brother took what he wanted, when he wanted it, regardless of the consequences. He never really grew up," Lyon ended.

She ignored the harshness in his voice. "Perhaps your mama wouldn't let him," she said.

"Speaking of my mother," Lyon began with a sigh, "you have a plan to keep her here?"

"I do."

"Hell. How long?"

"Quit frowning. She'll stay with us until she wishes to leave. Of course, we have to make her want to stay first," she qualified. "I have a plan to help her, Lyon. Together we'll draw her back into the family. Your mama feels responsible for your brother's death."

"Why do you say that?" Lyon asked.

"She kept him tied to her skirts," Christina answered. "Diana said your mother protected both of you from your father's cruel temper."

"How could Diana know? She was only a baby when Father died."

"Aunt Harriett told her," Christina explained. "I questioned both your sister and your aunt, Lyon. I wanted to know all about your mama so that I could help her."

"How long will this take? I don't have the patience to sit through meals listening to her talk of James."

"We aren't going to let her speak of James," Christina said. "Your mama's very determined." She kissed Lyon on his chin, then said, "But I'm far more determined. Do I have your complete support in this undertaking?"

"Will you be taking her out into the wilderness to find a place for her to die?" he asked. He chuckled over the picture of Christina dragging his mother outdoors before adding, "Diana's worried you really will do just that."

Christina sighed in exasperation. "Your sister is very naive. I was only bluffing. Would you like for me to explain my plans for your mama?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'd rather be surprised," Lyon answered. "I just thought of another question to ask you."

"That doesn't surprise me. You're full of questions."

He ignored her rebuke and her disgruntled expression. "Do you realize you sometimes lapse into speaking French? Especially when you're upset. Is that the language your family spoke?"

Twin dimples appeared in her cheeks. Lyon thought she looked like an angel. She wasn't acting much like one, however, for her hand suddenly reached down to capture his arousal.

Lyon groaned, then pulled her hand away. "Answer me first," he commanded in a husky voice.

She let him see her disappointment before she answered him. "Father captured Mr. Deavenrue to teach me the language of the whites. If Mother had been allowed to speak to the man, she would have told him that I was going to return to England. Father didn't think that was significant. He didn't understand that there were different white languages. Deavenrue told me later, when we became friends, that he was very frightened of my father. I remember being amused by that fact," she added. "It was an unkind reaction, but I was only ten or eleven then, so I can excuse my attitude. Deavenrue was very young, too. He taught me the language of the whites… his whites."

Lyon 's laughter interrupted her story. She waited until he'd calmed down before continuing. "For two long years I suffered through that language. Day in and day out. Mother was never allowed near Deavenrue. He was a handsome man, for a white," she qualified. "In fact, everyone stayed away from him. He was there to complete a task, not to befriend."

"Then it was only the two of you working together?" Lyon asked.

"Of course not. I wasn't allowed to be alone with him either. There were always at least two old women with me. In time, however, I really came to like Deavenrue, and I was able to persuade my father into being a little friendlier to him."

"When did Deavenrue realize he wasn't teaching you the correct language? And how did he converse with your father?"

"Deavenrue spoke our language," Christina answered. "When my mother was finally allowed to visit Deavenrue's tipi, and she heard me reciting my lessons, she knew immediately that it wasn't the same language she'd been taught when she was a little girl."

"Was there an uproar?" Lyon asked, trying not to laugh again.

"Oh, yes. Mother caught Father alone and let him see her displeasure. If he hadn't been so stubborn in keeping her away from the missionary, two years wouldn't have been wasted. Father was just as angry. He wanted to kill Deavenrue, but Mother wouldn't let him."

Lyon laughed. "Why didn't your mother teach you?"

"Her English wasn't very good. She decided Deavenrue's English was better."

"Why do you prefer to speak French?"

"It's easier at times."

"Tell me you love me in your family's language."

"I love you."

"That's English."

"The language of my family now," Christina said. She then repeated her vow of love in the language of the Dakota.

Lyon thought the sound was lyrical.

"Now I will show you how much I love you," Christina whispered. Her hands slid down his chest. She thought to stroke him into wanting her but found that he was already throbbing with desire.

"No, I'm going to show you first," Lyon commanded.

He rolled his wife onto her back and proceeded to do just that.

A long while later husband and wife fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms. They were both exhausted, and both thoroughly content.

Lyon awakened during the night. He immediately reached for his wife. As soon as he realized she wasn't in bed with him, he rolled to his side and looked on the floor.

Christina wasn't there either. Lyon 's mind immediately cleared of sleep. He started to get out of bed to go in search of his wife when he realized the candles were burning on the bedside table. He remembered quite specifically that he'd put out all three flames.

It didn't make sense until he saw the black book in the center of the light.

The leather binding was scarred with age. When Lyon picked up the book and opened it, a musty smell permeated the air around him. The pages were brittle. He used infinite care as he slowly lifted the first pages of the gift Christina had given him.

He didn't know how long he sat there, his head bent to the light as he read Jessica's diary. An hour might have passed, perhaps two. When he finished the account of Jessica's nightmare, his hands shook.

Lyon stood up, stretched his muscles awake, then walked over to the hearth. He was chilled but didn't know if it was the temperature in the room or Jessica's diary that was the cause.

He was adding a second log to the fire he'd just started when he heard the door open behind him. Lyon finished his task before he turned around. He knelt on one knee, his arms braced on the other, and stared at his lovely wife a long minute.

She was dressed in a long white robe. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed. He could tell she was nervous. Christina held a tray in her hands. The glasses were clattering.

"I thought you might be hungry. I went-"

"Come here, Christina."

His voice was whisper-soft. Christina hurried to do his bidding. She put the tray down on the bed, then rushed over to stand in front of her husband.

"Did you read it?" she asked.

Lyon stood up before he answered her. His hands settled on her shoulders. "You wanted me to, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Tell me why you wanted me to read it."

"Equal measure, Lyon. Your words, husband. You opened your heart to me when you told me about James and Lettie. I could do no less."

"Thank you, Christina." His voice shook with emotion.

Christina's eyes widened. "Why do you thank me?"

"For trusting me," Lyon answered. He kissed the wrinkle in her brow. "When you gave me your mother's diary, you were also giving me your trust."

"I was?"

Lyon smiled. "You were," he announced. He kissed her again, tenderly, then suggested that they share their midnight meal in front of the fire.

"And we will talk?" Christina asked. "I want to tell you so many things. There's so much we must decide upon, Lyon."

"Yes, love, we'll talk," Lyon promised.

As soon as she turned to fetch the tray, Lyon grabbed one of the blankets draped over the chair and unfolded it on the floor.

Christina knelt down and placed the tray in the center of the blanket. "Do you want me to get your robe for you?" she asked.

"No," Lyon answered, grinning. "Do you want me to take yours off?"

Lyon stretched out on his side, leaned up on one elbow, and reached for a piece of cheese. He tore off a portion and handed it to Christina.

"Do you think Jessica was crazy?" she asked.

"No."

"I don't either," Christina said. "Some of her entries are very confusing, aren't they? Could you feel her agony, Lyon, the way I did when I read her journal?"

"She was terrified," Lyon said. "And yes, I could feel her pain."

"I didn't want to read her thoughts at first. Merry made me take the book with me. She told me that in time I'd change my heart. She was right."

"She kept her promise to your mother," Lyon interjected. "She raised you, loved you as her own, and made you strong. Those were Jessica's wishes, weren't they?"

Christina nodded. "I'm not always strong, Lyon. Until tonight I was afraid of him."

"Your father?"

"I don't like to call him my father," Christina whispered. "It makes me ill to think his blood is part of mine."

"Why aren't you afraid now?" He asked.

"Because now you know. I worried you'd think Jessica's mind was… weak."

"Christina, when you walked into the library and I was talking to Richards, we had just finished a discussion about your father. Richards told me about an incident called the Brisbane affair. Did you hear any of it?"

"No. I would never overlisten," Christina answered.

Lyon nodded. He quickly told her the sequence of events leading up to the murders of the Brisbane family.

"Those poor children," Christina whispered. "Who would kill innocent little ones?"

"You won't like the answer," Lyon said. "I wouldn't have related this story to you if it wasn't important. Brisbane 's wife and children were all killed in the same way."

"How?"

"Their throats were slashed."

"I don't want to picture it," Christina whispered.

"In Jessica's diary she talks about a couple she traveled with to the Black Hills. Do you remember?"

"Yes. Their names were Emily and Jacob. The jackal killed them."

"How?"

"Their throats… oh, Lyon, their throats were slashed. Do you mean to say-"

"The same method," Lyon answered. "A coincidence, perhaps, but my instincts tell me the baron murdered the Brisbane family."

"Can't you challenge him?"

"Not in the way you'd like me to," Lyon answered. "We will force his hand, Christina. I give you my word. Will you leave the method to me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why what?" she hedged.

She was deliberately staring at the floor now, avoiding his gaze. Lyon reached over and tugged a strand of her hair. "I want to hear you say the words, wife."

Christina moved over to Lyon 's side. Her hand slowly reached out to his. When her fingers were entwined with his, she answered his demand.

"I trust you, Lyon, with all my heart."