The Lion's Lady

Chapter Seven

The early morning hours belonged to Christina. It was a peaceful, quiet time of day, for the Countess rarely made an appearance or a demand before noon. Christina's aunt preferred to take her morning meal of biscuits and tea in bed, and only broke that ritual when an important visitation couldn't be rescheduled.

Christina was usually dressed and finished with her duties before the full light of dawn warmed the city. She and her aunt shared a lady's maid between them, but Beatrice had quite enough to do filling the Countess's orders. For that reason, Christina took care of her clothes and her bedroom. In truth, she was happy with the arrangement. She didn't have to keep up a pretense when she was alone in her room. Since Beatrice rarely interrupted her, Christina didn't have to wrinkle the covers on her bed every morning to give the appearance she'd actually slept there.

Once she bolted the door against intruders, she could let her defenses slide. Every night she carried her blanket across the room to sleep on the floor in front of the double windows.

She didn't have to be strong when she was alone. She could cry, just as long as she was quiet about it. It was a weakness to shed tears, yet since no one was there to witness her distress, Christina felt little shame.

The tiny garden hidden behind the kitchens was Christina's other private domain. She usually spent most of the morning hours there. She blocked out the noise of the city and the stench of discarded garbage, slipped off her shoes, and wiggled her toes in the rich brown dirt. When the droplets of dew had been snatched away by the sun, Christina would return to the erupting chaos inside the house.

The precious reunion with the sun helped her endure the rest of the day. She could usually worry through any perplexing problem in such a tranquil setting too. However, since meeting the Marquess of Lyonwood, Christina hadn't been able to concentrate on much of anything. Her every thought belonged to him.

She'd been attracted to him from the moment of their meeting. When Sir Reynolds had called him Lyon, she'd been nudged into awareness. Then she'd looked up into his eyes, and her heart had been captured. The vulnerability she'd seen there, in his dark gaze, had made her want to reach out to him.

He was a man in need of attention. Christina thought he might be just as lonely as she was. She didn't understand why she'd come away with that impression, however. Lyon was surrounded by his family, embraced by the ton, envied, and somewhat feared. Yes, the ton bowed to him because of his title and his wealth. They were superficial reasons, to Christina's way of viewing matters, but Lyon had been raised in such a fashion.

He was different, though. She'd noticed he didn't bend to any of their laws. No, Lyon seemed determined to make his own.

Christina knew it hadn't been proper to ask him to marry her. According to the laws, it was the man's place to offer for his woman, not the other way around. She'd given the matter considerable thought, then reached the decision that she'd simply have to break this one law in order to be wed before her father returned to England.

Still, her timing might not have been perfect. She knew she'd stunned him with her hastily blurted question. The astonished look on his face worried her. She couldn't make up her mind if he was getting ready to shout with laughter or explode with anger.

Once he'd gotten over his initial reaction, however, Christina was certain he'd say yes. Why, he'd already admitted how much he liked being with her, how much he liked touching her. Life in this strange country would be so much more bearable with Lyon by her side.

And it would only be for a little while… he wouldn't have to be saddled with her forever, as the Countess liked to say.

Besides, she told herself, he really wouldn't be given a choice, would he?

She was the lioness of the Dakota. Lyon simply had to marry her.

It was his destiny.

Thursday evening didn't arrive soon enough to suit the Marquess of Lyonwood. By the time he entered Sir Hunt's townhouse, he was fighting mad.

Lyon had alternated between absolute fury and total disappointment whenever he thought about Christina's outrageous proposal. Well, he sure as hell had her game now, didn't he? She was after marriage, all right-marriage and money, just like every other woman in the kingdom.

He was just as angry with himself. His instincts had certainly been sleeping. He should have known what she was up to from the very beginning. God's truth, he'd done exactly what he accused Rhone of doing-he'd fallen victim to a pretty face and a clever flirtation.

Lyon was disgusted enough to want to bellow. And he was going to set Christina straight at the first opportunity. He wasn't about to get married again. Once had been enough. Oh, he meant to have Christina, but on his terms, and certainly without benefit of clergy to muck up the waters. All women changed once wedded. Experience had taught him that much.

It was unfortunate that the first person he ran into when he entered Hunt's salon was his sister, Diana. She spotted him immediately, picked up her skirts, and charged over to curtsy in front of him.

Hell, he was going to have to be civil.

" Lyon, thank you for asking Sir Reynolds to escort me. He is such a kind man. Aunt Harriett will be arriving Monday next, and you won't have to be bothered with the duty any longer. Do you like my new gown?" she asked, straightening the folds of her yellow skirt.

"You look very pretty," Lyon announced, barely giving her a glance.

There was such a crowd, Lyon was having difficulty finding Christina. Though he was much taller than the other guests, he still hadn't been able to spot the golden crown of curls he was looking for.

"Green is a nice color for me, isn't it, Lyon?"

"Yes."

Diana laughed, drawing Lyon 's attention. "My gown is yellow, Lyon. I knew you weren't paying me the least notice."

"I'm in no mood for games, Diana. Go and circulate through the crush like a good girl."

"She isn't here, Lyon."

"She isn't?" Lyon asked, sounding distracted.

Diana's giggles increased. "Princess Christina hasn't arrived yet. I had the most wonderful visit with her yesterday."

"Where did you see her?" Lyon asked. His voice was a bit sharper than he intended.

Diana didn't take exception. "For tea. Mother didn't join us, of course. Neither did you, by the way. Did you actually forget you asked me to invite her, Lyon?"

Lyon shook his head. "I decided against intruding," he lied. He really had forgotten the appointment, but he placed the blame for his ill discipline on Christina's shoulders. Since receiving her proposal of marriage, he hadn't been able to think about anything else.

Diana gave her brother a puzzled look. "It isn't like you to forget anything," she announced. When he didn't comment on that fact, she said, "Well, I was happy to have the time alone with her. Princess Christina is a fascinating woman. Do you believe in destiny, Lyon?"

"Oh, God."

"You needn't groan," Diana chided.

"I do not believe in destiny."

"Now you're shouting. Lyon, everyone is giving us worried looks. Do force a smile. I believe in destiny."

"Of course you do."

"Now why would that displease you?" Diana asked. She continued on before her brother could form an answer. "The princess makes such refreshing observations about people. She never says anything unkind, either. She's such a delicate, dainty woman. Why, I feel very protective around her. She's so gentle, so-"

"Was the old bat with her?" Lyon interrupted impatiently. He wasn't in the mood to hear about Christina's qualities. No, he was still too angry with her.

"I beg your pardon?" Diana asked.

"The Countess," Lyon explained. "Did she join you?"

Diana tried not to laugh. "No, she wasn't with Christina. I made an unkind remark about her aunt, though of course I didn't call her an old bat, and my comment was quite by accident. Christina was very gracious when she told me it was impolite to speak of the elderly in such a fashion. I was humbled by her gentle rebuke, Lyon, and then found myself telling her all about Mama and how she still grieves for our James."

"Family matters shouldn't be discussed with outsiders," Lyon said. "I really would appreciate it if you'd-"

"She says it's all your fault about Mama being-"

"What?" Lyon asked.

"Please let me finish before you sanction me," Diana advised. "Christina said the strangest thing. Yes, she did."

"Of course she did," Lyon returned with a long sigh.

Lord, it was contagious. One afternoon with Princess Christina had turned Diana completely senseless.

"I didn't understand what she meant, but she did say-rather firmly, too-that it was all your fault, and that it was up to you to direct Mama into returning to her family. Those were her very words."

Diana could tell by Lyon 's expression he was just as puzzled as she was. "I tell you, Lyon, it was as though she was repeating a rule from her memory. I didn't want her to think me unschooled, so I didn't question her further. But I didn't understand what she was telling me. Princess Christina acted like her advice made perfect sense…"

"Nothing the woman says or does makes any sense," Lyon announced. "Diana, go back to Sir Reynolds's side. He'll introduce you around. I've still to speak to our host."

"Lady Cecille is here, Lyon," Diana whispered. "You can't miss her. She's dressed in bright, shameful red."

"Shameful red?" Lyon grinned over the absurd description.

"You aren't still involved with the woman, are you, Lyon? Princess Christina would surely be put off if she thought you were seeing a woman of such stained reputation."

"No, I'm not involved with Cecille," Lyon muttered. "And how did you find out-"

"I listen to the rumors, just like everyone else," Diana admitted with a blush. "I'll leave you to your grumpy mood, Lyon. You may lecture me later." She started to turn away from him, then paused. " Lyon? Is Rhone going to be here tonight?"

He caught the eagerness in her voice. "It shouldn't matter to you if Rhone shows up or not, Diana. He's too old for you."

"Old? Lyon, he's your age exactly, and you're only nine years my senior."

"Don't argue with me, Diana."

She dared to frown at her brother before giving in to his advice. When Diana finally left him alone, Lyon leaned against the bannister in the foyer, waiting for Christina.

His host found him and dragged him across the salon and into a heated debate about government issues. Lyon patiently listened, though he kept glancing toward the entrance.

Christina finally arrived. She walked into the salon, flanked by their hostess and the Countess, just as Lady Cecille touched Lyon 's arm.

"Darling, it is wonderful to see you again."

Lyon felt like growling. He slowly turned around to acknowledge his former mistress.

What in God's name had he ever seen in the woman? The difference between Cecille and Christina was stunning. Lyon felt like taking a step back.

Cecille was a tall woman, somewhat stately, and terribly vulgar. She wore her dark brown hair piled high atop her head. Her cheeks were tinged with pink paint, as were her full, pouting lips.

Christina never pouted. She didn't pretend coyness either, Lyon decided. His disgust with Cecille was a sour taste in his mouth. Cecille was trying to be provocative now. She deliberately lowered her eyelashes to half mast. "I've sent you notes asking you to call, Lyon," she whispered as she increased her hold on his arm. "It's been such an unbearably long while since we shared a night together. I've missed you."

Lyon was thankful the men he was speaking to had walked away. He slowly removed Cecille's hand. "We've had this discussion, Cecille. It's over. Accept it and find someone else."

Cecille ignored the harshness in Lyon 's voice. "I don't believe you, Lyon. It was good between us. You're only being stubborn."

Lyon dismissed Cecille from his mind. He didn't want to waste his anger on her. No, he told himself, he was saving all of it for Princess Christina. He turned to find the woman he sought to reject and spotted her immediately. She was standing next to their host, smiling sweetly up at him. She looked entirely too pretty tonight. Her gown was the color of blue ice. The neckline was low-cut, showing a generous amount of her full, creamy-looking bosom. The gown wasn't as indecently fashioned as Cecille's, but Lyon still didn't like it. Hunt was giving Christina's chest lecherous looks. Lyon thought he just might kill him.

There were too many dandies at the party, too. Lyon looked around the room, glaring at all the men openly coveting his Christina. He knew he wasn't making any sense. He wasn't going to marry Christina, but he wasn't willing to let anyone else have her, either. No, he wasn't making any sense at all. It was Christina's fault, of course. The woman had made him crazy.

Cecille stood beside Lyon, watching him. It didn't take her long to realize he was mesmerized by the Princess. Cecille was irritated. She wasn't about to let anyone compete for Lyon 's attention. No one was going to interfere with her plan to marry him. Lyon was a stubborn man, but Cecille was certain enough of her own considerable charms to believe she'd eventually get her way. She always did. Yes, Lyon would come around, provided she didn't prod too obviously.

From the way Lyon kept his gaze directed on the beautiful woman, Cecille knew she'd better act quickly. The little Princess could cause trouble. Cecille made up her mind to have a talk with the chit as soon as possible.

She had to wait a good hour before she gained a proper introduction. During that time she heard several comments about Lyon 's preoccupation with the woman. There was actual speculation that Lyon was going to offer for her. Cecille turned from irritated to incensed. It was obviously far more serious than she'd first guessed.

She waited for her opportunity. When Christina finally stood alone, Cecille nudged her arm and begged for a private audience in their host's library to discuss an issue of high importance.

The innocent little Princess looked confused by her request. Cecille smiled as sweetly as she could manage. She felt like gloating. In just a few minutes she'd have the silly girl terrified enough to do anything she suggested.

The library was located in the back of the main floor. They entered the chamber from the hallway.

Three high-backed chairs were angled in front of a long desk. Christina sat down, folded her arms in her lap, and smiled up at Lady Cecille expectantly.

Cecille didn't sit down. She wanted the advantage of towering over her adversary.

"What is it you wish to say to me?" Christina asked, her voice soft.

"The Marquess of Lyonwood," Cecille announced. The sweetness was missing from her voice now. " Lyon belongs to me, Princess. Leave him alone."

Lyon had just opened the side door to the library in time to overhear Cecille's demand. It wasn't by accident that he happened upon the conversation, nor was it coincidence he'd chosen to go around to the door connecting the kitchens to the study. Lyon remembered from past meetings with Sir Hunt that there were two doors leading to the library. And he'd kept his attention on Christina since the minute she'd entered the townhouse. When Cecille had taken hold of Christina's arm and led her down the hallway, Lyon was right behind her.

Neither Christina nor Cecille noticed him. Lyon knew it was bad form to listen in on their private conversation, yet he believed his motives were pure enough. He knew what Cecille was capable of. She could make mutton out of a gentle little lamb. Gentle Christina wasn't up to handling anyone as cunning, as vicious as Cecille. Lyon only wanted to protect Christina. The beautiful woman was simply too naive for her own good.

"Has Lyon offered for you, then?" Christina suddenly asked.

"No," Cecille snapped out. "Don't give me that innocent look, Princess. You know he hasn't offered for me yet. But he will," she added with a sneer. "We're intimate friends. Do you know what that means? He comes to my bed almost every night. Do you get my meaning?" she asked in a malicious voice.

"Oh, yes," Christina answered. "You're his paramour."

Cecille gasped. She folded her arms across her chest and glared down at her prey. "I'm going to marry him."

"No, I don't think you are, Lady Cecille," Christina answered. "Was that all you wanted to say to me? And you really don't have to raise your voice. My hearing is sound."

"You still don't understand, do you? You're either stupid or a real bitch, do you know that? I'm going to ruin you if you get in my way," Cecille announced.

Lyon was puzzled. He'd thought to intervene the moment Cecille started her insults, but the look on Christina's face kept him from moving.

Christina seemed to be totally unaffected by the discussion. She actually smiled up at Cecille, then asked in an extremely casual voice, "How could you ruin me?"

"I'll make up stories about you. It won't matter if they're true or not. Yes," Cecille rushed on, "I'll tell everyone you've slept with several men. Your reputation will be in tatters when I'm done with you. Give Lyon up, Christina. He'd tire of you soon anyway. Your looks are nothing in comparison to mine. Lyon will always come back to me. My beauty captivates him. You will immediately let him know you aren't interested in him. Then ignore him completely. Otherwise-"

"Say what you will," Christina said. "I don't care what your people think of me."

Cecille was infuriated by the amusement in Christina's voice. "You are a stupid woman," she shouted.

"Please don't get so bothered, Lady Cecille. It's upsetting your complexion. Why, your face is full of splotches."

"You… you…" Cecille paused to take a deep, calming breath. "You're lying. You have to care what others think. And your aunt will certainly care, I can promise you that She can't be as ignorant as you are. Ah, I see I've finally gotten your attention. Yes, the Countess will be ruined by the scandal I'm going to weave."

Christina straightened in her chair. She frowned up at Cecille. "Are you saying your made-up stories will upset my aunt?"

"God, you really are a simple one, aren't you? Of course she'll be upset. When I'm finished, she won't be able to show her face in public. Just you wait and see."

Cecille could smell victory. She turned her back on Christina to circle the chair as she began to detail the vile lies she would spread.

Lyon had heard enough. He turned to pull the door wide open, determined to walk into the library and end Cecille's terror tactics at once.

It was time to protect his angel from the serpent.

She must have moved with incredible speed. Lyon had only taken his gaze off Christina for a second or two, but when he glanced back, the scene he witnessed so astonished him that he couldn't move.

He had trouble believing what he was seeing. Christina had Cecille pinned up against the wall. His former mistress wasn't making a sound of protest over the violation. She couldn't. Christina's left hand was anchored around the woman's neck, holding her in place. From the way Cecille's eyes were beginning to bulge, Lyon thought Christina just might be strangling her to death.

Cecille outweighed Christina by a good twenty pounds. She was much taller, too, yet Christina acted as though she was holding up a trinket for closer observation.

The little angel Lyon wanted to protect used only one hand to secure Cecille. She held a dagger in her other hand. The tip of the blade rested against Cecille's cheek.

The victim had just turned victor.

Christina slowly increased her hold on Cecille's neck, then let her see the tip of her knife. "Do you know what my people do to vain, deceitful women?" she asked in a soft whisper. "They carve marks all over their faces, Cecille."

Cecille started whimpering. Christina pricked her skin with the tip of the knife. A drop of blood appeared on her cheek. Christina nodded with satisfaction. She had Lady Cecille's full attention now. The woman looked terrified. "If you tell one lie, I'll hear about it. Then I'm going to hunt you down, Cecille. There isn't a rock large enough for you to crawl under, nor enough men in England to see to your protection. I'll come to you during the night, when you're sleeping. And when you open your eyes, you'll see this blade again. Oh, yes, I'll get to you, I promise. And when I do," Christina added, pausing to dramatically drag the flat of her blade across the woman's face, "I'm going to cut your skin into ribbons. Do you understand me?"

Christina let up on her hold only long enough for Cecille to gulp air and nod. Then she squeezed her up against the wall again. "The Countess is my family. No one upsets her. And no one is going to believe you if you think to tell them I just threatened you. Now get out of here and go home. Though it is unkind of me to say so, you really do look a fright."

With those words of dismissal, Christina moved away from the disgusting woman.

Lady Cecille didn't possess an ounce of dignity. She was weeping all over her gown. She had obviously believed every word of Christina's threats.

Lord, she was a silly woman. Christina had difficulty maintaining her stern expression. She wanted to laugh. She couldn't, of course, and she kept her gaze locked on the terrified woman a long moment before she took pity on her. Lady Cecille couldn't seem to move. "You may leave now," Christina announced.

Cecille nodded. She slowly backed away from Christina until she reached the exit. Her hands shook when she lifted her skirt all the way up to her knobby knees, then she flung the door wide and ran with enough speed to suggest she thought demons were chasing her.

Christina let out a long, weary sigh. She replaced the dagger in the sheath above her ankle, straightened the folds of her gown, then daintily patted her hair into place. "Such a silly woman," she whispered to herself before walking out of the room.

Lyon had to sit down. He waited until Christina was out of sight before he went over to Hunt's desk and leaned against it. He tried to pour himself a drink of his host's whiskey from the cart to the side of the desk, but he quickly discarded that idea. God help him, he was laughing too hard to get the deed done.

So much for his conclusion that Christina was just like every other woman. She certainly wasn't raised in France, either. Lyon shook his head. She gave the appearance of being helpless… or had he drawn that conclusion on his own, he wondered. It was an easy mistake to make, he realized. Christina was so feminine, so dainty, so damned innocent-looking… and she wore a knife strapped to her leg.

It was identical to the knife he'd held in his hands the night of Baker's party, the knife that had wounded Rhone. What a cunning little liar she was. Lyon remembered how he'd turned to see who'd thrown the weapon. Christina had looked so frightened. Hell, the woman had turned around to look behind her, too. She'd gone right along with his thought that someone lurked behind them in the shadows. Then, when he was locked in conversation with the gentlemen, she'd quietly snatched her weapon back.

Lyon 's instincts were wide awake now. His temper began to simmer, too. Hadn't she told him the night of the robbery she was so frightened she thought she might swoon?

No wonder she'd gone to Rhone to take care of his injury. Guilt, Lyon decided.

He wasn't laughing now. Lyon thought he just might throttle the woman.

"Has trouble telling a lie, does she?" he muttered to himself. Oh, yes, she'd looked him right in the eye when she told him that story. It was very difficult for her… yes, she'd said that, too.

He was going to throttle her. But first he was going to have a long talk with her… his little warrior had a large amount of explaining to do.

Lyon slammed his empty glass down on the tray and went in search of Christina.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

Christina visibly jumped. She whirled around to confront Lyon. "Where did you just come from?" she asked, sounding highly suspicious. She glanced around him to look at the library door.

Lyon knew exactly what she was thinking. She looked worried. He forced himself to look calm. "In the library."

"No, I just came from the library, Lyon. You couldn't have been in there," she announced, shaking her head.

He almost said that he wasn't the one who lied, then caught himself. "Oh, but I was in the library, my sweet."

His announcement gave her a start. "Was there anyone else in there?" she asked, trying to sound only mildly curious.

Lyon knew she was testing him.

"I mean to ask, sir, that is, did you happen to notice if anyone else was in the library?"

He took his sweet time nodding. Christina decided he looked just like a mischievous devil. He was dressed like one, too. Lyon 's formal attire was all of black, save for the white cravat, of course. The clothing fit him well. The man was too handsome for her peace of mind.

She was certain Lyon hadn't seen or heard anything. He was looking down at her with such a tender expression in his eyes. Christina felt safe enough. Lyon wasn't acting the least appalled. But why had he lied to her? Christina decided he must have seen her go inside the study with Lady Cecille. The poor man was probably worried that his paramour had told Christina something he didn't want repeated. Yes, she told herself, he was just prodding for information.

It was a plausible explanation. Still, one did need to be absolutely certain. Christina lowered her gaze to stare at his waistcoat. She forced a casual voice and asked, "You didn't perchance overlisten to my conversation with Lady Cecille, did you?"

"The word is eavesdropping, Christina, not overlistening."

His voice was strained. She thought he might be trying not to laugh at her. Christina didn't know if it was her question or her mispronunciation that had caused the change. She was too irritated with him for lying to her to take great exception, however. "Thank you, Lyon, for instructing me. Eavesdropping, yes, I do recall that word."

Lyon wouldn't have been surprised if she'd started wringing her hands. She was upset, all right, for she'd just spoken to him in French. He doubted she was even aware she'd slipped into the foreign language.

He decided to answer her in kind. "I am always happy to instruct you, love."

She didn't notice. "But you didn't eavesdrop, did you?"

"Why, Christina, what an unkind question to put to me. Of course not."

She tried not to let her relief show.

"And you know I'd never lie to you, my sweet. You've always been so open, so honest with me, haven't you?"

"Yes, I have," Christina returned, giving him a quick smile. "It is the only way to be with each other, Lyon. Surely you realize that."

Lyon clasped his hands behind his back so he wouldn't be able to give in to his urge to grab her by her throat. She seemed very relaxed with him now, very sure of herself. "Did you learn the value of honesty from the Summertons?" he asked.

"Who?"

His grip on his control intensified. "The Summertons," Lyon repeated, trying to control his anger. "Remember, love, the people who raised you?"

She couldn't quite look him in the eye when she answered him. He was such a good, trusting man. It was becoming a little bit of a strain to lie to him. "Yes, the Summertons did teach me to be honest in all endeavors," she announced. "I simply can't help myself. I'm not any good at fabrications."

He was going to strangle her.

"Did I hear you say you were in the study with Lady Cecille?"

Her guess had been right all along. Lyon was worried about the conversation. He had seen her go inside the library with Lady Cecille. Christina decided to put his fears to rest. "I was," she said. "Lady Cecille seems to be a dear woman, Lyon. She had some rather pleasing remarks to make about you."

No, he wasn't going to strangle her. He thought he'd beat her first. "I'm pleased to hear it," Lyon said. His voice was as smooth as a soft wind. The effort made his throat ache. "What exactly did she say?"

"Oh, this and that."

"What specific this and that?" Lyon insisted. His hands had moved to rest on Christina's shoulders, and it was all he could do not to shake the sincerity right out of her.

"Well, she did mention that we made a lovely couple," Christina said.

She was back to staring at his waistcoat again. While she appreciated the fact that the English tended to be somewhat naive, she was beginning to feel ashamed of herself for lying so blatantly to Lyon.

"Did she mention destiny, perchance?" Lyon asked.

She hadn't noticed the edge in his voice. "No, I don't recall Lady Cecille mentioning destiny. That does remind me, though, of my question. Have you given my proposal consideration?"

"I have."

" Lyon, why are you speaking French to me? We're in England, and you really should speak the language of your own people."

"It seemed appropriate," Lyon muttered.

"Oh," Christina said. She tried to shrug his hands away from her shoulders. They were still alone in the hallway, but there was always the chance someone could come along and see them. "Are you going to mate with… I mean, are you going to marry me?"

"Yes, I'm going to mate with you. As for marriage, I fear I will have to decline your proposal."

Christina wasn't given time to react to Lyon 's announcement. Sir Reynolds called out, interrupting them. Lyon let go of her shoulders, then pulled her around and up against his side. He trapped her with one hand wrapped around her waist.

" Lyon, I've been looking all over this house for you. Do you approve of my taking your sister over to Kimble's do? We'd stay here until dinner hour is over, of course."

"Certainly," Lyon said. "And I appreciate your taking Diana under your wing, sir."

"Glad to do it," Reynolds said. "Good evening, Princess Christina. I trust you are well?"

"Yes, thank you," Christina answered. She tried to curtsy, but Lyon wouldn't let up on his hold. She settled on a smile instead. It was a puny half effort at best, for Lyon 's answer had just settled in her mind.

Though she told herself it didn't matter, that she'd surely find someone else to marry, she knew she was lying to herself. It did matter. Lord, she felt close to weeping.

"My dear," Sir Reynolds said, addressing Christina, "I've agreed to see you home. Your aunt pleaded fatigue and has taken your carriage. She explained she was leaving for the countryside tomorrow. I was given to understand you won't be going with her."

"Yes, that is correct," Christina answered. "My aunt is going to visit a friend who has taken ill. She prefers that I stay in London. I will have to wait for another opportunity to see your lovely countryside."

"I forget you've only been here a very short while," Sir Reynolds said. "But you're surely not on your own for an entire week, are you? Do you wish me to lend my arm Saturday eve? You do intend to go to Creston's ball, of course. Or do you already have an escort?"

"I shall not be going," Christina interjected, her voice firm.

"Yes, you will," Lyon said. He squeezed her waist before adding, "You promised."

"I've changed my mind. Sir Reynolds, I'm also fatigued. I'd be pleased if you'd-"

"I'll take you home." Lyon 's voice was hard with anger.

Sir Reynolds could feel the tension between the two. They'd obviously had a falling out, he decided. From the way Princess Christina was trying to get out of his embrace, and the determined way Lyon wasn't letting her, it was very apparent. Why, he could almost see the sparks between them.

Determined to douse the argument and aid Lyon at the same time, he asked him, "Are you sure you wish to see Princess Christina home?"

"Yes," Lyon snapped. "When must she get there, Reynolds? Did the Countess set the hour?"

"No, she assumed Christina would accompany your sister and me to Kimble's. You've at least two hours before the Countess takes notice," he added with a grin.

"Please don't discuss me as if I were not present," Christina said. "I really am tired now and would prefer-"

"That we leave immediately." Lyon finished the sentence for her, increasing his hold on her waist until she could barely catch her breath.

"Perhaps you might consider leaving by the back door," Sir Reynolds suggested in a conspiratorial whisper. "I shall make certain everyone believes Princess Christina left with her aunt, you see, and will of course offer your regrets to our host as well."

"A good idea," Lyon announced with a grin. "Of course, Reynolds, we must keep this deception between the three of us. Christina has such difficulty telling a lie. As long as she doesn't have to fabricate a story to her aunt, her honor will remain unblemished. Isn't that right, love?"

She gave him a good long frown. And she really wished he'd quit dragging up the issue of her honesty. It was making her terribly uncomfortable. Lyon looked sincere enough for her to believe he actually admired her..

It no longer signified what he thought, she told herself when Lyon started dragging her toward the back of the house. He'd just rejected her offer of marriage. No, it didn't matter what he thought of her anymore.

She wouldn't see him again after this evening. Heaven help her, her eyes were filling with tears. "You've just broken another law," she muttered into his back. She tried to sound angry instead of desolate. "My aunt will be outraged if she hears of this trickery."

"Speak English, sweetheart."

"What?"

Lyon didn't say another word until he had Christina settled inside his carriage. He sat down next to her, then stretched his long legs out in front of him.

The carriage was much bigger than the one Aunt Patricia had rented, and much more elegant in detail.

Christina still hated it. Large or small, elegant or not, it made no difference to her. "Don't you have any of those open carriages like the ones I've seen in Hyde Park, Lyon? And please quit trying to crush me. Do move over."

"Yes, I have an open carriage. It's called a phaeton. One doesn't use a phaeton after dark, however," he explained with exasperation. His patience was wearing thin. Lyon was itching to get the truth out of her, not discuss such mundane matters as carriages.

"One should," Christina muttered. "Oh, God, I shouldn't admit this to you, but I won't be seeing you again, so it really doesn't matter. I can't stand the darkness. May we open the drapes covering the windows, please? I can't seem to catch my breath."

The panic in her voice turned his attention. His anger quickly dissipated when he felt her tremble against his side.

Lyon immediately pulled the drapes back, then put his arm around her shoulders.

"I've just handed you a weapon to use against me, haven't I?"

He didn't know what she was talking about. The light filtering in through the windows was sufficient for him to see the fear in her eyes, though. He noticed that her hands were fisted in her lap.

"You really are frightened, aren't you?" he asked as he pulled her up against him.

Christina reacted to the gentleness in his voice. "It isn't really fear," she whispered. "I just get a tightness here, in my chest," she explained. She took hold of his hand and placed it against her heart. "Can you feel how my heart is pounding?"

He could have answered her if he'd been able to find his voice. The simple touch had sent his senses reeling.

"I'll try to take your mind off your worry, love," he whispered when he could speak again. He leaned down and kissed her. The intimacy was slow, languid, consuming, until Christina reached up to brush her fingertips across his cheek.

A shudder rushed through him. His heart was pounding now. "Do you know what a witch you are?" he asked when he pulled away. "Do you have any idea what I want to do to you, Christina?" His fingers slid just inside the top of her gown to gently caress her softness.

He whispered erotic, forbidden longings into her ear. "I can't wait much longer, my love. I want you under me. Naked. Begging. God, I want to be inside you. You want me just as much, don't you, Christina?"

He didn't wait for her answer but claimed her soft lips for another deep kiss. His mouth moved hungrily over hers, his tongue delving inside, deeper and deeper with each new penetration, until she was reaching for his tongue with her own whenever he deliberately withdrew.

Christina didn't know how it happened, but she suddenly realized she was sitting on his lap with her arms wrapped around his neck. " Lyon, you mustn't say such things to me." Her protest sounded like a ragged moan. "We cannot share the same blankets unless we're wed," she added before she cupped the sides of his face and kissed him again.

She forgot all about the closeness inside the carriage, forgot all her worries and his rejection of her proposal. His kisses were robbing her of all thoughts.

Her breasts ached for more of his touch. She moved:, restlessly, erotically, against his arousal. Lyon trailed wet kisses down the side of her neck, pausing to tease her earlobe with his warm breath, his velvet tongue. His knuckles brushed against her nipples, once, twice, and then again, until a fever began to burn inside her.

She tried to stop him when he pushed the top of her gown down, exposing her breasts. "No, Lyon, we mustn't-"

"Let me, Christina," Lyon demanded, his voice harsh with need. His mouth found her breasts before she could protest again, and then she was too weak, too overwhelmed by what he was doing to her to protest at all.

"I love the taste of you," he whispered. "God, you're so soft." His tongue caressed the nipple of one breast while his hand stroked the other. Christina clung to him, her eyes tightly closed. A soft whimper escaped when he took the nipple into his mouth and began to suckle. An aching tightness made her move against Lyon again. He groaned, telling her how much pleasure her instinctive motion had given him.

Christina never wanted the sweet torture to end.

It was Lyon 's driver who saved her from disgrace. His shout that they'd gained their destination penetrated her sensual haze. "Dear God, we are home!" Her announcement came out in a strained voice.

Lyon wasn't as quick to recover. It took a moment for her announcement to settle in his mind. His breathing was harsh, ragged. He leaned back against the cushion and took a deep breath while he fought to regain some semblance of control.

Christina had adjusted her gown to cover her breasts and moved to sit beside him. She dropped her hand on his thigh. Lyon reacted as though she'd just stabbed him. He pushed her hand away. "Are you angry with me?" she whispered.

His eyes were closed now. The muscle was flexing in the side of his cheek, though, and she thought he really was angry with her. She clasped her hands together in her lap, trying to stop herself from trembling. "Please don't be angry with me."

"Damn it, Christina. Give me a minute to calm down," Lyon snapped.

Christina bowed her head in shame. "I'm so sorry, Lyon. I didn't mean for our kisses to go so far, but you made me weak and I forgot all about stopping."

"It was my fault, not yours." Lyon muttered his roundabout apology. He finally opened his eyes and glanced down at her. Hell, she looked so dejected. Lyon tried to put his arm around her again, but she scooted over into the corner. "Sweetheart, it's all right" He forced a smile when she looked up at him. "Do you want me to come inside with you?"

She shook her head. "No, the Countess is a light sleeper. She'd know," Christina whispered.

Lyon didn't want to leave her. Not yet… not like this. He was feeling extremely guilty because she was looking so ashamed. If she started to cry, he didn't know how he'd be able to comfort her.

"Hell," he muttered to himself. Every time he touched her he went a little crazy. If he tried to offer her solace, he'd probably make it worse.

Lyon threw open the door and helped Christina to the ground. "When will I see you again?" he asked her. They were in the midst of a struggle, and he wasn't certain she heard him. Christina was trying to push his hands away, and he was trying to hug her. "Christina, when will I see you again?"

She refused to answer him until he let go of her.

Lyon refused to let go of her until she answered him. "We'll stand here all night," he told her when she kept pushing against his shoulders.

Christina suddenly threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. "I blame myself, Lyon. It was wrong of me to ask you to marry with me. I was being very selfish."

Her words so surprised him, he let go of her. Christina kept her head bowed so he couldn't see her distress, yet was powerless to keep her voice from trembling. "Please forgive me."

"Let me explain," Lyon whispered. He tried to pull her back into his arms. Christina evaded him again by taking a quick step back. "Marriage changes a person. It isn't a rejection of you, Christina, but I-"

She shook her head. "Do not say another word. You might have fallen in love with me, Lyon. When the time came for me to go home, you would have had a broken heart. It is better for me to choose someone else, someone I don't care about."

"Christina, you are home. You aren't going anywhere," Lyon said. "Why can't we go along the way we-"

"You're very like Rhone, do you know that?"

Her question confused him. Christina hurried up the steps to her townhouse. When she turned back to look at Lyon, he could see how upset she was. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Your friend only steals jewels, Lyon. Your sin is greater. If I let you, you'd steal my heart. I cannot allow that to happen. Goodbye, Lyon. I must never see you again."

With those parting words, Christina went inside the house. The door closed softly behind her.

Lyon was left standing on the stoop. "The hell you will forget me," he bellowed.

Lyon was furious. He thought he had to be the most frustrated man in England. How in God's name had he ever allowed himself to get involved with such a confusing woman?

She'd had the audacity to tell him he might fall in love with her.

Lyon knew the truth. Heaven help him, he was already in love with her.

Needless to say, that admission didn't sit well. Lyon almost ripped the door off the carriage when he climbed back inside. He shouted the order to his driver to take him home, then began to list all the reasons he should stay away from Christina.

The woman was a blatant liar.

He despised liars.

God only knew how many hearts she'd broken.

Destiny… he decided he hated that word.

By the time he arrived home, he'd accepted the fact that none of his reasonable arguments made any difference. He was stuck with Christina whether he wanted to be or not.