The Lion's Lady

Chapter Twelve

Lyon and Christina set out for his country manor shortly after a picnic luncheon Christina had insisted upon. They ate crusty bread, cheese, sliced mutton, and plump apple tarts. The fare was spread out on a soft blanket Christina had dragged down from upstairs. Lyon had instinctively reached for his pants, thinking to get dressed first, but his wife had laughed at his modesty, and he'd been easily convinced there really wasn't any need to be in such a hurry.

They were both covered with a layer of dust by the time they arrived at their destination, thanks to Christina's plea to ride in an open carriage and Lyon's agreement to let her have her way.

During the journey he tried to bring up the subject of her father several times, but Christina easily evaded his questions. And once they'd put the city behind them, the beauty of the surrounding wilderness kept Christina fully occupied. Her amazement was obvious. It didn't take Lyon long to realize she had believed all of England was like London.

"Why would you ever want to go into the city when you could stay in such splendor?" Christina asked him.

Splendor? Lyon hadn't thought of the countryside in such a way. Yet the pleasure he could see in his wife's expression made him open his mind to the raw beauty around him.

"We take for granted what is familiar to us," Lyon excused.

"Look around you, Lyon. See God's gifts," Christina instructed.

"Will you promise me something, Christina?" Lyon asked.

"If I am able," she answered.

"Never change," he whispered.

He'd meant it as a compliment and was therefore confused by her reaction. Christina clasped her hands in her lap and bowed her head for a long minute. When she finally looked up at him again, she was frowning.

"My dear, I haven't asked you how to settle England 's debts," Lyon remarked. "And my question was irrelevant anyway. I'll make certain you don't change."

"How will you do that?" Christina asked.

"Remove all temptations," Lyon announced with a nod.

"Temptations?"

"Never mind, my sweet. Quit frowning. It will be all right."

"Did Lettie change?"

She knew he didn't like her question. That irritated her, of course, for it was the very first question about his past she'd ever put to him. "Did you love your wife very much, Lyon?" she asked.

"Lettie's dead, Christina. You're all that matters to me now."

"Why is it quite all right for you to prod me about my past and not acceptable for me to ask you questions? Your scowl won't work with me, Lyon. Please answer me. Did you love Lettie?"

"It was a long time ago," Lyon said. "I thought I did… in the beginning…"

"Before she changed," Christina whispered. "She wasn't what you thought she should be, isn't that the way of it?"

"No, she wasn't." His voice had taken on the familiar chill.

"You still haven't forgiven her, have you, Lyon? Whatever did she do to hurt you so?"

"You're being fanciful," Lyon announced. "How in God's name did we get on this topic?"

"I'm trying to understand," Christina answered. "Your sister told me you loved Lettie. Is it so painful you cannot even speak her name?"

"Christina, would you prefer that I act like my mother? All she'll talk of is James," he added.

" Lyon, I'd like our time together to be filled with joy. If I knew how Lettie changed, perhaps I wouldn't make the same mistakes."

"I love you just the way you are. And I'm damned tired of hearing our marriage is only for a short duration. Get this through your head, woman. We're married until death separates us."

"Or until I change like Lettie did," Christina answered. Her voice was just as loud, just as angry as his had been.

"You aren't going to change."

Lyon suddenly realized he was shouting at her. "This is a ridiculous conversation. I love you."

"You love a princess."

"I don't give a damn if you're a princess or not. I love you."

"Ha."

"What in God's name is that supposed to mean?" Lyon reached out to pull her into his arms. "I cannot believe we're yelling at each other like this."

" Lyon, I'm not a princess."

She'd whispered the confession against his shoulder. Lord, she sounded so forlorn. Lyon 's anger evaporated. "Good," he whispered.

"Why is it good?" Christina asked.

"Because now you can't tell me I love a princess," he reasoned with a smile in his voice. "I didn't marry you because of your title."

"Then why? You've told me I'm not at all sensible, that I try to make you daft-"

"Your money."

"What?" Christina pulled out of his arms to look into his face. There was a definite sparkle in his eyes. "You're jesting with me. You didn't know I had any money until after we'd wed."

"How astute of you to remember," Lyon said. He kissed the frown away from her face, then draped his arm around her shoulder.

Christina rested against his shoulder. The continuous clip of the horses and the rocking motion of the carriage made her sleepy and content.

" Lyon? You haven't asked me why I married you," she whispered several minutes later.

"I already know why you married me, love."

She smiled over his arrogant comment. "Then explain it to me, please. I still haven't come to understand it."

He gave her a squeeze to let her know he wasn't amused by her announcement. "First, there are the scars. You happen to love my flawed body."

"And how would you know that?" she asked, pretending outrage.

"You can't keep your hands off me," he told her. "Second, I remind you of a warrior."

Christina shook her head. "You haven't any humility," she told him. "And you are a warrior, Lyon. A vain one, yes, but a warrior all the same."

"Ah, vanity," Lyon drawled. "Does that mean you might have to use your knife on me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Lady Cecille. You did threaten to-"

"So you were listening to our conversation in the library." Christina sounded stunned. "You lied to me. That is shameful."

"I lied to you?" Lyon 's voice was incredulous. "You, of course, have always been honest with me."

"You will have to cast Lady Cecille aside," Christina announced, flipping the subject to avoid another argument. "I won't be wed to a roamer."

"A what?"

"A man who chases other women," Christina explained. "I shall be true to you, and you must be true to me. Even though it is fashionable in England to take a lover, you aren't going to have one. And that's that."

He was surprised by the vehemence in her tone. He hadn't known she had such an assertive manner. In truth, her demand pleased him immensely. "You're a bossy bit of goods, do you know that?" he whispered. He kissed her again in a leisurely fashion.

Christina realized he hadn't given her his promise, but she decided not to press the issue. Later would be soon enough.

She was about to fall asleep when they reached Lyonwood. Lyon nudged her out of her sleepy state. "We're home, Christina."

The carriage rounded the curve in the road. The wilderness suddenly disappeared.

The land had been transformed into a lush, well-manicured lawn. There were sculptured bushes lining the circle drive of gravel, with wildflowers of bold colors woven between the trees. At the top of the gently sloping hill stood Lyon 's magnificent home.

Christina thought it looked like a palace. The house was made of gray and brown stone, double storied, with windows one above the other all across the front of the house. Bright green ivy splattered the stones.

"Lyonwood is as handsome as its master," Christina whispered. "I shall never remember how to get around."

"You get around me well enough," Lyon remarked. "I'm sure you'll conquer your new home just as swiftly."

Christina smiled at his teasing manner. "How many of your family members live here with you? Will I meet all of your relatives today, do you suppose?"

"I suppose not," Lyon answered. "I live by myself." He laughed when he saw her astonished reaction. "Now, of course, my gentle little wife will live with me."

"How many bedchambers are there?"

"Just twelve," Lyon answered with a shrug. The carriage stopped in the center of the circle just as the front door opened. Lyon 's butler, a stout, dark-haired young man by the name of Brown, led the parade of servants down the four steps. The staff lined up behind their leader. Their uniforms were starched, as well as their stance, and though they kept their expressions contained, every gaze was directed upon their new mistress.

Lyon refused assistance in helping his wife out of the carriage. Her hands were cold and her nose pink from the brisk, windy ride. He thought she might be a bit nervous meeting his servants for the first time, and so he kept her hand clasped in his.

It didn't take him long to realize she wasn't the least bit nervous. Her manner was worthy of a queen… or a princess, Lyon thought with a grin. There was an air of quiet dignity in her bearing. She was gracious as she greeted each one, attentive when she listened to their explanations of what their duties were.

She captivated them, of course, just as she'd captivated him. Even Brown, his dour-faced butler, was affected. When Christina took hold of his hand and announced that it was obvious to her he'd done his duty well, the man's face broke into a spontaneous smile.

"I shall not give you interference, Mr. Brown," she explained.

Brown looked relieved at that announcement. He turned then to address his employer. "My lord, we have prepared both your chamber and the adjoining one for the Marchioness."

Christina looked up at her husband, fully expecting him to set the man straight. When Lyon simply nodded and took hold of her elbow to walk up the steps, she forced a smile for the watching servants while she whispered her displeasure to her husband.

"I shall not have my own room, Lyon. I am your wife now. I must share your blankets. And I really don't want a lady's maid." Looking around, she added, "Heavens, Lyon, this entryway is larger than your whole townhouse."

Christina wouldn't have been surprised if she'd heard an echo. The entrance was gigantic. The floors were polished to a gleam. There was a large sitting room on the left, another of equal proportions on the right. A hallway began to the left of the circular staircase. Lyon explained that the dining room was adjacent to the sitting room, with the gardens behind. The kitchens, he added, were on the opposite side.

Their bedrooms were linked by a door. "I'll have your clothes moved in here," Lyon told Christina when she gave him a good frown. He motioned to his bed with a raised eyebrow and asked her if she'd like to see if it was comfortable enough.

"You look just like a rascal," Christina laughed. "I should like a bath, Lyon, and then I would like to see your stables. You do keep horses here, don't you?"

"But you don't like to ride," Lyon reminded her.

"Never mind that," Christina answered.

"Christina, if you don't think you'll be happy with Kathleen, I will assign the task of lady's maid to another."

"Oh, Kathleen seems very capable," Christina answered. "I just don't want any maids."

"Well, you're having one," Lyon announced. "I won't always be here to fasten your gowns, love, so quit scowling at me."

Christina sauntered over to the windows. "You're a bossy bit of goods, do you know that, Lyon?" she announced.

Lyon grabbed her from behind. He placed a wet kiss on the column of her throat. "I really insist that you try the bed."

"Now?"

Christina turned to watch Lyon walk over to the door. When he turned the lock and faced her again she could see he wasn't jesting. He gave her his most intimidating look, then motioned her over with an arrogant nod of his head.

"I'm covered with dust."

"So am I."

She was already breathless, and he hadn't even touched her yet.

Christina kicked off her shoes and walked over to the bed. "Will you always be this demanding with your wife?" she asked him.

"Yes," Lyon answered. He discarded his jacket and his shoes, then went to Christina. "Will my wife always be this submissive?" he asked as he pulled her into his arms.

"It's the wife's duty, isn't it, to be submissive to her husband?" Christina asked.

"It is," Lyon answered. His hands moved to the fastenings on her dress. "Oh, yes, it definitely is."

"Then I shall be submissive, Lyon," Christina announced. "When it suits me."

"A man can't ask for more than that," Lyon said with a grin.

Christina threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. She wasn't submissive now. Her tongue darted inside his mouth to rub against his. She knew he liked her aggressiveness. His hold tightened around her waist and he growled his pleasure.

"My love, I think I'm going to tear another gown," he whispered.

He didn't sound overly contrite. And his wife's soft laughter told him it really didn't matter to her.

The following two weeks were as wonderful and magical to Christina as the early pages of Sir Thomas Mallory's story of Camelot. The weather accommodated her fantasy, for it only rained during the black night hours.

Christina and Lyon spent most of the sun-filled days exploring the vast wilderness surrounding his home.

She was amazed that one man could own so much land.

He was astonished that one woman could know so much about it.

Christina gave him the gift of awareness and a new appreciation for the wonders of nature.

Lyon began to realize how important her freedom was to her. She was happiest when they were outside. Her joy was contagious. Lyon found himself laughing with just as much joy as he tramped through the jungle of bushes in pursuit of his wife.

They always ended their days in front of a peaceful stream they'd chanced upon quite by accident their first day out, and usually soaked their feet in the cool water while they ate the meal the cook had thoughtfully prepared for them.

On one such afternoon, Lyon decided to tease his wife. He plucked a leaf from the nearest shrub and pretended that he was going to eat it. Christina wasn't amused. She slapped the leaf out of his hand, admonished him for his ignorance, and then explained that the leaf was poisonous and that he shouldn't be putting plants in his mouth anyway. If he was that hungry, she'd be more than happy to give him her portion of their meal.

Friday morning arrived too soon for Lyon 's liking. He had to return to London to meet with Rhone and their unknowing victims for a game of cards.

Lyon was extremely reluctant to leave his gentle little wife even for one evening.

Lyon awakened early to find his wife sound asleep on the floor again. He immediately lifted her into his arms and put her back in his bed. Her skin felt cold to him, and he used his hands and his mouth to warm her.

He was hard and throbbing when Christina finally opened her eyes. His mouth was fastened on her breast, his tongue like rough velvet as it brushed against her nipple. He began to suckle while his hands stoked the growing fire inside her.

He knew just where to touch, just how to drive her wild. His fingers slipped inside her, drawing a breathless moan from her, then withdrew to tease and torment, and then thrust inside again.

Christina wanted to touch him. " Lyon." She could barely get his name out. His mouth had moved to her stomach to place wet, hot kisses there while his fingers continued their magic.

She couldn't catch her breath. "Tell me you want this," Lyon demanded, his voice hoarse now. His head was slowly moving toward the junction of her legs. "Tell me, Christina," he whispered. His breath was warm against her sensitive skin. His fingers plunged deep and then withdrew to be replaced by his mouth, his tongue.

What he was doing to her made her forget to breathe. Her eyes were tightly closed and her hands clutched the sheets. The pressure grew inside her until it consumed her. Emotion swept through her like a blaze out of control.

" Lyon!"

"Do you like this, love?"

"Yes. Oh, God, yes… Lyon, I'm going to-"

"Let it happen, Christina," he demanded in a rough, husky voice.

He wouldn't let her hold on to her control. The tension was unbearable as the fire rushed through her body.

Christina arched against him, cried out his name in a soft gasp. The splendor still captivated her when Lyon plunged inside her.

He was too greedy to hold back. His breathing was ragged against her ear.

"You like this, don't you, love?" he demanded.

"Yes, Lyon," she whispered.

"Put your legs around me, take me…" The order ended on an intense groan. Christina had wrapped her arms and her legs around him, pulling him high inside her. Her nails raked his shoulders, her grip tight and sweet, as tight and sweet and hot as her sheath.

He grunted his satisfaction. Christina slowly moved her hips. "Do you like that, Lyon?" she whispered as she pushed up against him again.

He couldn't answer her. But his body showed her how very much he did like it. And when he spilled his seed into her, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven.

An hour later, Lyon walked with Christina down the steps, his arm draped around her shoulders possessively.

Brown was waiting at the bottom of the steps. After announcing that the stablemaster had Lyon 's mount ready and waiting out front, the butler discreetly withdrew so that the Marquess could have another minute alone with his wife to give her a proper farewell.

"Christina, when you get over your fear of horses we'll go riding every-"

"I'm not afraid of horses," Christina interrupted. Her voice sounded outraged. "We've had this discussion before, Lyon. I fear the saddles, not the animals. There is a difference."

"You're not going to ride without a saddle," Lyon announced. "And that's that."

"You're too stubborn for my own good," she muttered.

"I don't want you to fall and break your pretty little neck."

Lyon opened the front door, grabbed hold of Christina's hand, and dragged her outside.

Christina was frowning. She thought he might have insulted her again. Then she reasoned he couldn't know how skilled she was with a good mount. Perhaps he hadn't slandered her after all but was truly concerned for her safety or, as he'd just put it, her pretty little neck.

She wondered what he'd think if he found out she went out riding most mornings. He'd be upset with her, she supposed. She had to sigh over that little deception, then cast her guilt aside. She was always back in his bed before he awakened and really wasn't worried he'd find out. Wendell, the stablemaster, wouldn't say anything to Lyon. No, Wendell was a man of few words. Besides, he thought she'd gained Lyon 's permission.

"Christina, I'll be back home by noon tomorrow," Lyon said, interrupting her thoughts. He tilted her chin up and kissed her soundly.

When he started down the steps, Christina hurried after him. "I still don't understand why I can't go with you. I would like to see your sister, and your mama, too, Lyon."

"Next time, sweetheart. Diana will be going to Martin's party tonight."

"Will Aunt Harriett also be going?"

"Probably," Lyon answered.

"I could go with them," Christina suggested.

"I thought you liked it here in the country," Lyon returned. "You do, don't you?"

"Yes, very much. But I'm your wife, Lyon. I should do my duty with your relatives. Do you know, it's rather odd of me to admit, but I did enjoy some of the parties. There were some very nice people I would like to see again."

"No."

His voice was so firm, Christina was immediately perplexed. "Why don't you want me to go with you? Have I done something to displease you?"

Lyon reacted to the worry in her voice. He paused to look down at her, then gave in to his sudden urge to kiss her again. "Nothing you could ever do would displease me. If you want to attend some of the parties, you'll wait until I can go with you."

"May I play cards with you and the mischief makers?" she asked. "I've never played before, but I'm certain it wouldn't be too difficult to master."

Lyon hid his amusement. His wife was obviously serious in her request. The sincerity in her voice said as much. "I'll teach you another time, Christina. If you wish, I'll wait while you write a note to Diana and Aunt Harriett."

Christina could tell by his manner that he wasn't going to give in to her plea to go along. "I've already written to everyone, even Elbert and my Aunt Patricia," she informed him. "Brown sent a messenger with my letters yesterday."

They walked on, hand in hand. When they reached his mount, he turned. "I have to leave now, my sweet."

"I know."

She hadn't meant to sound so pitiful. The fact that Lyon was leaving was distressing, yes, but not nearly as much as his casual, dismissive attitude. She didn't think he was going to mind the separation at all. She, on the other hand, minded very much.

It wasn't like her to be so clinging. She couldn't seem to let go of his hand. What in heaven's name was the matter with her? Lord, she felt like crying. He was only going to be away for one night, she told herself, not an eternity.

Lyon kissed her on her forehead. "Do you have anything you wish to say to me before I leave, Christina?"

His voice coaxed a response. Christina dropped his hand. "No."

Lyon let out a long sigh. He took hold of her hand again and dragged her off to the side of the path so that the stablemaster wouldn't overhear him. "I'll miss you," he said.

His voice wasn't coaxing now, but brisk.

Christina smiled.

"Damn it, wife, I want the soft words," he muttered. He immediately felt like a fool for making such a ridiculous confession.

"Damn it, Lyon, I want to go to London with you."

"Christina, you're staying here," Lyon bellowed. He drew a deep breath, then added in a furious whisper, "I love you, Christina. Now tell me you love me. I've waited all week to hear you admit it."

She gave him a disgruntled look. Lyon wasn't waylaid. "I'm waiting, Christina."

"Have a safe journey, Lyon."

Lyon hadn't realized how important it was for him to hear her tell him she loved him until his demand was so thoroughly ignored. He stood there feeling angry and defeated, his gaze brooding as he watched Christina walk away from him.

"Hell," he muttered to himself. He mounted his steed, accepted the reins from Wendell, yet seemed incapable of nudging his stallion into moving. He couldn't even tear his gaze off the stubborn woman strolling to the front door.

Christina couldn't dismiss him this time. Her hand shook when she took hold of the brass door handle. He was so horribly stubborn. He constantly prodded and nagged. He wouldn't let her shield her feelings from him. But he didn't understand the significance of what he was asking of her. Once she'd given him the words, there could be no going back.

No, she'd never be able to go home.

A half smile changed her expression. The truth was both painful and joyful. She'd never really been given a choice in the matter, had she? From the moment she'd met Lyon, her heart had known the truth. Why had it taken her mind so long to accept?

Christina looked over her shoulder. Tears clouded her vision. "Hurry home, Lyon. I will be waiting for you."

"Say the words, Christina." He'd shouted this time, and the look on his face showed his anger.

"I love you."

Several heartbeats passed before he acknowledged her admission. And then he gave her a curt nod. Oh, he was arrogant But his expression was tender, caring, so very loving.

It was quite enough. Christina hid her smile. A feeling of contentment and joy filled her. She suddenly felt as light as the wind.

The truth had set her free.

Christina opened the door and started to walk inside when her husband's bellow stopped her. "Wife?"

"Yes, husband?"

"Tell me you trust me as well."

She turned around again. Her hands settled on her hips. She hoped he could see her exasperation. "Don't push me, Lyon. Savor one victory at a time, like any noble warrior would."

Lyon shouted with laughter. "Yes, Christina, one victory at a time. I've got you now, haven't I?" he asked, his voice and his eyes filled with merriment.

The man was gloating again.

Christina strolled over to the top step. "Yes, Lyon, you've got me. And when you come home from London, you're going to find out just exactly what you've gotten. No more pretenses, husband. No more lies."

"I couldn't be happier," Lyon remarked.

"Enjoy the feeling, Lyon. I fear it will not last long."

She'd called the warning over her shoulder. The front door slammed shut before Lyon could question her further.

Lyon felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders-and from his heart. She loved him. "The rest will come, wife," he whispered to himself. "I'll see to it."

He'd never felt so confident, so very, very peaceful.

The feeling wasn't going to last long.

Chapter Thirteen

You were only three months old when I bundled you up and set out on another adventure. I left in the dead of night so that Patricia wouldn't be able to stop me. I didn't leave a note for her, for 1 believed she'd send men after me.

You were such a precious infant. Upon reflection, I think the journey was far more difficult for me than for you. You'd just begun to smile, and you were such a sweet-tempered little one.

I had made arrangements to travel with Jacob and Emily Jackson. I'd met them through Sunday church, you see, and took to them at once. They were a newly wedded couple who had sold their wedding gifts so that they'd have enough coins to go in search of a new life. They were very appreciative of my contributions. Emily took to you, too, Christina. She'd sing to you and rock you to sleep while I saw to the night meals.

Jacob was a man bitten by wanderlust. Every evening he'd tell us the most wonderful stories about the courageous people living in the Black Hills. His brother had already taken his family there and had sent Jacob word that he was prospering as a gentleman farmer.

Jacob's fever was contagious. I soon became as excited as he was. Emily told me there were many unattached men working the raw land, that I would surely find a good man to marry. I led them to believe my husband had recently died, I admit to you, and I felt great shame for lying to them.

I told myself over and over that the lie didn't count. Edward would never find me in this vast wilderness.

We joined another wagon train when we reached what I believed was the end of the earth. I fought my exhaustion. Emily was always so cheerful. And then, on a bleak, rainy afternoon, we finally reached the valley below the most magnificent mountains I'd ever seen.

I remember that it was a bitterly cold day. It didn't matter, though. We were free, Christina. Free. No one could hurt us now.

Journal entry October 11, 1795

Lyon had been gone for over an hour when two letters arrived. Both were addressed to Christina, and both required her immediate attention.

After instructing Kathleen to take the messenger into the kitchens for refreshments, Christina took her letters into Lyon 's study.

The first missive came from her Aunt Patricia. It was a hateful note, filled with defaming remarks about Lyon. The Countess told Christina she'd learned the truth about the Marquess and felt it was her duty to warn her niece that she was married to a murderer.

The Countess then demanded that Christina return to London immediately so that she could accompany her aunt to the various functions of the ton. She whined about the disgraceful fact that she hadn't received a single invitation since Christina's outrageous marriage.

Christina shook her head. It had been less than a month since the wedding, but her aunt was carrying on as though a full year had passed.

The Countess ended her list of complaints with the statement that she was sending along a letter she'd received from the missionary Deavenrue.

She hoped Christina didn't find ill news.

Christina was immediately suspicious. It wasn't like her aunt to offer such a good-hearted remark. She thought the Countess might be up to her usual tricks. She was familiar with her former teacher's handwriting, however, and the flourishing style of his script on the envelope indicated that he had in fact written the letter. The seal on the back of the envelope hadn't been tampered with, either.

Convinced that the letter was really from her dear friend, Christina finally opened it.

Brown was the first to react to the heart-wrenching scream coming from the library. He rushed into the room and nearly lost his composure altogether when he saw his mistress had collapsed on the floor.

He shouted orders over his shoulder as he knelt down beside the Marchioness. Kathleen, Christina's maid, came running next. When she saw her mistress, she gave a yell. "Did she swoon? What made her cry out, Brown? Is she hurt?"

"Cease your questions, woman," Brown snapped. He carefully lifted his mistress into his arms, then noticed that she clutched a letter in her hands. He decided that whatever news she'd just received had caused her to faint. "Go and prepare your lady's bed, Kathleen," he whispered. "She doesn't weigh more than a feather. God help us all if she's ill."

Most of the staff had assembled, and they trailed silently behind Brown as he carried Christina up the winding staircase. Kathleen had hurried on ahead to turn down the bed, but Brown walked right past Christina's bedroom and continued on into his master's quarters.

"She'll find comfort here when she wakes up," he whispered to the cook. "They are a very close couple. She sleeps in here every night."

"Do we send for the Marquess?" Kathleen asked between sobs.

"Get Sophie," Brown ordered. "She'll know what to do about the swoon. Is the messenger still here?"

When Kathleen nodded, Brown said, "I shall send a message to the Marquess with him. Lewis," he commanded the gardener, "go and delay him."

Christina opened her eyes just as Brown was awkwardly pulling the covers over her. "Do not make a fuss over me, Brown."

"Are you in pain, milady?" Brown asked, his voice ragged with worry. "I've sent for Sophie. She'll know what to do," he added, trying to force the tremor out of his voice.

Christina struggled to sit up just as a large gray-headed woman came rushing into the room. She grabbed two pillows and tucked them behind Christina's back.

"What do you think it is, Sophie?" Kathleen asked. "She let out a horrible scream and then fainted dead away."

"I heard her," Sophie announced. She slapped the back of her hand against Christina's forehead. Her manner was brisk, her frown intense. "Best send for Winters, Brown. She feels fevered to me. Winters is your husband's physician," Sophie explained to Christina.

"I'm not ill," Christina protested. She was surprised her voice sounded so weak to her. "Brown, do not send for a physician. I'm quite all right now. But I must go to London immediately. Please bring the carriage around front for me. Kathleen, would you see to packing a few of my gowns for me?"

"Milady, you cannot leave this bed. You are ill whether you know it or not," Sophie exclaimed. "You're as pale as a cloud. Yes, you are."

"I must go to my husband," Christina argued. "He will know what to do."

"It was the letter that caused your swoon, wasn't it?" Kathleen asked, wringing her hands.

Brown turned to glare at the maid. Kathleen was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry for prying, milady, but we are all so concerned. You gave us all a scare, and we've come to care about you."

Christina tried to smile. "And I care about all of you," she said. "Yes, Kathleen, it was the letter."

"Was it bad news?" Kathleen asked.

"Of course it was bad news, you silly chit," Brown muttered. "Anyone with half a mind can see that it was," he added. "Milady, is there anything I can do to ease your distress?"

"Yes, Brown," Christina answered. "Don't fight me when I tell you I must leave for London at once. Please help me, Brown. I beg of you."

"I would do anything for you," Brown blurted out in a fervent voice. He blushed and added, "The Marquess will be upset by this change in orders, but if you are truly set on going, I shall send four strong men to accompany you. Kathleen, hurry and do your lady's bidding."

"Will I be going with you?" Kathleen asked her mistress.

"You will," Brown announced before Christina could dissuade her eager maid.

"I would like a few minutes alone," Christina whispered. "I must grieve in privacy."

They understood then. Someone close to their mistress had passed away.

Brown immediately ushered the servants out of the bedroom. He hesitated after closing the door behind him, then stood there, feeling impotent and unworthy, as he listened to his mistress's tormented sobs.

He didn't know how to help her. Brown straightened his shoulders and hurried down the hall. The welfare of his mistress rested on his shoulders now. He wasn't going to take any chances. He decided to send six men along instead of four to protect the Marchioness.

And though it was highly unusual for a butler to leave his post as guardian of the household, Brown didn't care. He wasn't going to leave his mistress's side until she was safely in her husband's arms. Yes, he would go along with the assembly. And if he could remember how to hang onto a mount, he just might lead them.

Christina had no idea of the worry she was causing her staff. She huddled under the covers, hugging Lyon 's pillow to her bosom, weeping softly.

When her tears were spent, she slowly climbed out of the bed and went in search of her scissors. She would cut her hair and begin the mourning ritual.

As of this moment, her Aunt Patricia was dead. Christina would never again acknowledge her existence.

The task of cutting several inches off the length of curls took little time. Kathleen rushed into the room with a pale green gown draped over her arm. Her eyes widened when she saw what her mistress had done to her hair, but she held her silence and assisted her mistress in changing her clothing.

"We will be ready to leave in ten minutes' time," Kathleen whispered to Christina before leaving her alone again.

Christina walked over to the windows to stare out at the land. She thought about her family. How Merry would love this country. Black Wolf would be impressed, too, though he'd never acknowledge it, of course. He was too arrogant to make such an admission. He'd be perplexed, too, if he knew that Lyon owned so much land.

White Eagle would be more impressed with Lyon 's stables. The horses had been bred for strength and endurance, and the new foals, so feisty, so magnificent, were proof of Lyon 's careful selection.

"They are not dead." Christina's voice was filled with anger.

She started to cry again. No, they weren't dead. The letter was a lie. She would have known, in her heart, if anything had harmed her family.

"I would have known," she whispered.

Yes, it was trickery. Christina didn't know how her aunt had accomplished the foul deed, but she was behind the deception. The evil woman wanted Christina to believe that her Indian family was dead.

Christina didn't understand the Countess's reasons.

Lyon would be able to explain. He was a cunning warrior who knew all the ways of the jackals in this world.

She felt a desperate need to get to her husband.

Christina would demand that he take her into his arms and tell her how much he loved her. And then she would make him kiss her. His touch would take the pain and the sorrow away.

She would demand and Lyon would give. It was his duty.

When Lyon arrived at his townhouse in London proper, Sir Fenton Richards was waiting on his doorstoop.

Richards wasn't smiling.

Lyon was immediately on his guard. "You've put on weight," he announced in lieu of a greeting.

"I have put on weight," Richards admitted with a grin. He patted his belly to emphasize just where the extra pounds had settled.

Lyon began to relax. His friend's manner told him all he needed to know. There had to be a problem, for Richards wouldn't have waited for him just to pay a social call. Yet his casual manner indicated it wasn't a terribly important problem.

Richards turned to bang on the door. It was immediately opened by a servant. Lyon motioned to his man to take the reins and see to his mount, then led his friend inside to the library.

Richards lumbered in behind him. He was a large man with a bushy beard and silver-tipped hair. He was softspoken, stoop-shouldered, and usually guarded in his expressions. Except when he was in Lyon 's company. The older man could relax then, because his trust in his young friend was absolute.

"All hell has broken loose, and with a vengeance."

Lyon raised an eyebrow over the mildly given remark.

" Rhone is under house arrest," Richards announced. He settled himself in one of the two leather-backed chairs in front of Lyon 's desk before adding, "I tried to intervene, but the charges had already been filed by Wellingham. It's up to you to take care of the matter now."

"How was he found out?" Lyon asked. He sat down behind his desk and began to sift through the stack of letters and invitations piled in the center.

Richards chuckled. "You're taking our friend's demise well," he remarked.

"As you said, it's up to me now. I'll take care of the matter. Tell me what happened. How-"

"Wellingham noticed the bandage on Rhone 's wrist. One guess led to another after that. Rhone takes too many chances," Richards announced. "It seems he ran into Wellingham on his way home from your wedding. I was sorry I missed the celebration, by the way," he added. "Couldn't be helped. I just got back to London the day before yesterday."

"It was a small affair," Lyon said. "You'll have to come to Lyonwood to meet my Christina," he added. "How's Rhone taking the situation?" he asked, turning the subject back to the immediate problem.

"With his usual flair for nonsense," Richards commented dryly. "Since he can't get out, he's had a party at his townhouse every night. There's another one scheduled for this eve, as a matter of fact. I thought I'd drop in."

Richards paused to give Lyon a long, meaningful look.

Lyon grinned. "I'll be there," he told his friend. "Don't bring any valuables with you, Richards. You wouldn't want to be robbed by Jack, would you?"

"Ah, then Jack will be making an appearance?"

"You may wager on it."

"Won't Rhone be amused?" Richards commented. He straightened in his chair, his manner suddenly brisk. "Now that Rhone 's problem is taken care of, I'll move on to my other reason for coming to see you. Your wife's father, to be exact."

Richards had just captured Lyon 's full attention. He pushed the letters aside and leaned forward.

"Did you know your wife's father is on his way to London?"

Lyon shook his head. "How would you know him?" he asked.

"His name is Edward Stalinsky, but of course you would know that," Richards said.

Lyon nodded. He did know his father-in-law's full name, but only because he'd watched Christina sign the marriage certificate. "Yes, Baron Stalinsky," he said, urging Richards along.

"He did a favor for us a very long time ago. The Brisbane affair. Do you remember hearing about that mishap?"

Mishap? Lyon shook his head. "I remember you called the Battle of Waterloo Napoleon's mishap," he said. "Tell me about this Brisbane business. I have no memory of it in my mind."

"You were a young lad. Still, I thought you might have heard of the matter sooner or later," Richards said, his voice whisper-soft. "I forget I'm a good twenty years your senior. I suppose I should let the younger ones take charge," he added with a sigh.

"You've tried to resign several times since I've worked for you," Lyon answered.

He was eager to hear Richards recount the happening to him and learn all he could about Christina's father, but he knew his friend well enough to understand he would take his usual slow time getting to it.

"I'm like an old hound," Richards said. "The scent of trouble still captures my mind. Brisbane was an Englishman," he continued, finally getting to the heart of the matter. "You might say he was our Benedict Arnold. He turned traitor, sold a few secrets, then his family began to worry his conscience. He had a wife and four little girls. He came to us and confessed his transgressions. We, or rather my predecessors, worked a promise with the man. We were after bigger fish, you see. With Brisbane 's full cooperation, we set a trap to catch his superiors. Baron Stalinsky acted as our intermediary. I don't remember how he got involved," he added with a shrug. "The baron did all he could-took every precaution, I'm told-but the plan failed miserably all the same."

"How?" Lyon asked.

" Brisbane 's wife and children were murdered. Their throats were cut. The atrocity was made to look as if Brisbane had killed them and then turned the blade on himself."

"You don't believe that's what really happened, do you?" Lyon asked.

"No, of course not. I think one of Brisbane 's superiors found out about the trap," Richards answered. "Either by chance or by payment."

"What about Baron Stalinsky? Did he continue to work with the government?"

"No. He married shortly after the Brisbane business and returned to his home. He was outraged by the horror he'd witnessed. He was the first to find the bodies, you see, and he refused to lend England a hand after that. Can't fault the man. I wasn't there, but I can imagine the nightmare Stalinsky walked into."

"Have you kept in touch with the Baron since that time?"

"None of us have," Richards said. "But several of his old friends have received notice from him that he'll be arriving in England soon."

"I wonder if he knows he has a daughter now."

"Good God. You mean to tell me he didn't know?" Richards asked.

"Father and daughter have never met. I believe the baron thought his wife and child had died years ago. For that matter, everyone I talked to thought the Baron had passed away, too. Sir Reynolds was one to make that speculation."

"Yes, there was surprise when the letters arrived," Richards said.

"I wonder what the baron has been up to all these years."

"I heard that a year or so later Stalinsky lost his kingdom. Then he vanished. We never had reason to keep track of the man," Richards added. A frown marred his expression. "Something's bothering you. What is it?"

"Do you have any reason at all to distrust the baron?"

"Ah, so that's the itch, is it?"

"Tell me everything you know about the man," Lyon ordered. "Everything you can remember. I realize it was a long time ago," he added.

"There's very little to tell. I was young and impressionable back then, but I do remember being in awe of the man. He wasn't much older than I was. He had a commanding presence. I envied him. Lyon, damn it all, you've got my guts churning. Now you tell me what you know about the baron," he ordered.

"I don't have any information to give you. I've never met him. Christina hasn't either, but she's afraid of him. When you meet my wife, you'll understand the full force of that comment. Christina isn't a woman who frightens easily."

"I already know that much about her," Richards said.

"How?"

"She married you, didn't she?"

Lyon grinned. "Yes, she did," he said. "Not very willingly, but…"

Richards snorted with laughter. "Perhaps she's afraid of her father because of the unusual circumstances," he said after a moment's pause. "Not to know one's father and then finally to meet him…"

"No," Lyon said, shaking his head. "Her fear is based on something else. She called him a jackal. Keep your guard up when you're with the baron, Richards. My instincts and Christina's fears are enough to sway my mind."

"You're that uneasy?"

"I am."

"Why hasn't Christina explained the real reasons for her fears, then?"

"She's very stubborn," Lyon announced with a smile that told Richards he thought that was a noble quality. "And she is just beginning to trust me. It's a fragile bond, Richards. For that reason, I'm not going to prod her. Christina will tell me when she's ready, and not a minute before."

"But you trust her judgment?" Richards asked. "You trust her?"

"I do." His answer was given without hesitation, his voice emphatic.

And then the full realization settled in his mind… and in his heart. He did trust her. Completely. "In all matters." Lyon acknowledged in a soft voice. "God only knows why, but I do," he told his friend before he started to laugh.

"And that's amusing?"

"Oh, yes. My little wife and I have been playing a game with each other," Lyon confessed. "It's amusing, you see, because neither one of us has realized it."

"I don't understand," Richards confessed.

"I'm only just beginning to understand," Lyon said. "Christina hides her past from me… just as I've been hiding my past from her. I think she believes I'll find her inferior in some way," he added. "I wouldn't, of course, but she needs to learn to trust me enough to believe it in her heart."

"I would be happy to investigate your wife's past for you," Richards volunteered.

"No. I sent men to France to make inquiries, but I'm going to call them home. I will not look into her past, and I don't want you to either, Richards. In time she'll tell me what she wants me to know."

"And will you tell her your secrets?" Richards asked. His voice was whisper-soft. "You have no cause to worry, Lyon. I've never been able to trust a man the way I trust you. Your loyalty to your country has always been absolute. That is why you were always given the most difficult assignments."

Lyon was surprised by the vehemence in his friend's voice. Richards wasn't a man given to compliments. In all their years working together, Lyon had never heard such praise.

"Now you've got me worried about Stalinsky," Richards continued. "I'll start looking into his affairs immediately. There's another problem, however," he added. He scratched his beard in an absentminded fashion. "The department had hopes that you'd give a reception honoring your father-in-law when he arrives. Heaven help us, there's already talk of knighthood. Some of the older gentlemen remember with exaggerated recall the noble deeds Baron Stalinsky accomplished for the good of England. I'm going to look into those deeds as well," he added with a brisk nod.

"A reception isn't going to sit well with Christina," Lyon said.

Richards gave a discreet cough, then said, " Lyon, I certainly don't want to be the one to tell you how to manage your marriage, but it would seem to me that you must simply question your wife about her father at the first opportunity. Order her to explain her fears to you. Make her answer your questions, son."

Question her? Lyon felt like laughing. Since the minute he'd met Christina he'd done nothing but question her. "There will be no questions. She'll tell me-"

"I know, I know," Richards interrupted with a long sigh. "In her own time."

"That's about it," Lyon answered. "Until then, it's my duty to keep her safe."

"Safe?"

"Christina believes her father will try to kill her."

"Oh, Lord."

"Exactly. And you can see how offended we both would be if the baron is knighted."

" Lyon, I insist that you question your wife. If there is danger-"

"I will deal with it. I will not question her again."

Richards ignored the irritation in his friend's tone. "I'm not one to judge, but I believe you have a very unusual marriage."

"I have a very unusual wife. You'll like her, Richards."

A sudden noise coming from the foyer interrupted the conversation. Lyon glanced up just as the library doors were thrown open.

Brown, his loyal butler, came rushing into the room.

Lyon bounded out of his chair. His heart started slamming against his chest and he felt as though the breath was being squeezed out of him.

Something had happened to Christina. She'd been hurt… taken…

The feeling of panic slowly dissipated. When Christina came flying into the room, her golden hair floating around her shoulders, Lyon literally fell back into his chair.

She was all right. Oh, her eyes were clouded with unshed tears, and her expression showed how troubled she was. She was upset, yes, but she hadn't been injured.

He started breathing again.

" Lyon, you just tell me how it was done," Christina demanded. She rushed right past Richards, didn't even seem to notice that anyone else was in the room, reached her husband's side, and thrust two envelopes into his hands. "I recognized his handwriting, and at first I thought it might be true. But in my heart I didn't feel it was so. I would have known if something had happened to them. I would have known."

Lyon grabbed hold of Christina's hands. "Sweetheart, calm down and start at the beginning."

"Read this letter first," Christina said. She pulled her hand away and motioned to the Countess's envelope. "Then you'll understand why I know it's trickery."

"The Marchioness fainted dead away, my lord," Brown called out.

Lyon turned his attention to his butler. Brown was still standing in the doorway.

"She what?" Lyon roared.

"She swooned," Brown said, nodding vigorously.

"Then why did you bring her to London?"

Lyon was suddenly infuriated. He glared at his butler, then turned to Christina. "You should be home in bed," he shouted.

"Don't yell at me," Christina ordered. Her voice was every bit as loud as Lyon 's had been. "Brown knew better than to argue with me. I was determined to come to you, Lyon. Please read the letters. I know it is all a lie."

Lyon forced himself to calm down. Christina had started crying. He decided to get to the matter of her health after he'd dealt with her problem.

Lyon read the Countess's letter first. By the time he was finished with it his hands were shaking.

God help him, she'd learned the truth about him. The Countess had found out about his past and had recounted several damning details in her letter to her niece.

Now Christina wanted his denial. She'd come all the way to London to confront him, to hear him tell her that they were lies.

He wasn't going to lie to her. But the truth could destroy her.

No more lies, no more pretenses… hadn't she given him that promise just this morning?

She deserved equal measure. "Christina," Lyon began. He slowly lifted his gaze to hers, "We do what we must do when there is a threat, and I…"

He couldn't seem to finish his explanation.

Christina could see his pain, his anguish. The need to comfort him overrode all other considerations. She instinctively reached out to him.

And then the confusion of it all hit her. Her hand stilled in the air between them. "What are you talking about?"

"What?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm trying to explain," Lyon muttered. He turned to glare at Brown. The butler caught the message and immediately closed the door.

Lyon 's gaze then settled on Richards. His friend rudely ignored the silent order and stayed right where he was.

" Lyon, answer me," Christina demanded.

"Christina, it's very difficult to explain with an audience listening," he said. He took a deep breath. "It's true. All of it. I did exactly what your aunt has told you. My motives were a hell of a lot cleaner, however, and I would…"

She finally understood. Christina closed her eyes and prayed for guidance. She knew she probably wasn't being a good wife now, that Lyon obviously felt the need to unburden himself of his secrets. He'd picked a strange time to share his worries with her, she thought. Although it was selfish of her to feel this way, she really wished he'd help her with her problem first.

When Christina closed her eyes, Lyon felt as though a knife had just been plunged into his heart. "My dear, I was a soldier. I did what I had to…"

She finally looked at him. Her gaze was direct and filled with tenderness.

He was too stunned to say another word.

"You are a warrior, Lyon. But you are also a gentle, loving man. You wouldn't have killed anyone who hadn't challenged you. No, you hunt only jackals."

He seemed to have trouble taking it all in. "Then why did you come to London to-"

"I knew you'd help me find the truth," Christina said.

"I'm trying to tell you the truth."

He was shouting again. Christina shook her head. "How can you tell me that when you haven't even read the other letter?"

"If you two will forgive an old man's interference," Richards interjected.

"What is it?" Lyon snapped.

"Who is that man?" Christina asked Lyon.

"Fenton Richards," Lyon said.

Christina recognized the name. She frowned at Lyon 's guest and then said, " Lyon cannot come back to work for you. His leg still has not healed to my satisfaction. It may be long years before he mends completely," she added.

"Christina, how do you know about Richards?"

" Rhone," she answered. "And you do talk in your sleep some nights," she added. "I hadn't thought to mention that flaw to you in front of an outsider, but…"

"Oh, hell," Lyon muttered.

"Oh, my God," Richards whispered.

"Don't be concerned, sir," Christina told Richards. "I will keep his secrets safe."

Richards stared at her a long minute and then slowly nodded. "I believe you will," he acknowledged.

"How did you know about my leg?" Lyon asked, drawing Christina's attention again. "I haven't complained. It has healed, damn it. Did Rhone -"

"The first night I met you I could tell you were in pain. I could see it in your eyes. You kept leaning against the mantel, too. That was another sign. Later I did question Rhone, and he confessed that you'd injured your knee. And it hasn't healed," she added with a hasty glance in Richards's direction.

Richards hid his smile. Lyon 's wife was a charmer. "The two of you seem to be at cross purposes," he remarked. " Lyon, I don't think your wife is upset about the news in her aunt's letter. It's something else, isn't it, my dear?"

"Yes," Christina answered. "The Countess enclosed a letter from my good friend. The writing on his envelope is by his hand, I'm certain of it, and the writing on the paper looks the same, but-"

"You don't think it is. That's the trickery you're referring to?" Lyon asked.

She nodded. "See how the Countess ends her letter, Lyon? She tells me she hopes my friend hasn't sent ill news."

Her eyes filled with tears again. Lyon quickly read the letter from Deavenrue. He then held the envelope up next to the paper to compare the writing style. Christina held her breath and waited.

It didn't take him long to see the differences. "It's similar, but it isn't the same. Richards, you want to have a look at this?" Lyon asked. "Another opinion would make Christina rest easy."

Richards leapt out of his chair, his curiosity nearly out of control, and snatched the envelope and the letter. He soon saw the discrepancies. "Oh, yes. The letter was written by another hand. It is a deception."

He then read the contents. His gaze was sympathetic when he looked at Christina again. "These people in the wilderness… they were like family to you?"

Christina nodded. "What is spotted fever?" she asked, frowning. "The letter says they died of-"

"God only knows," Lyon said.

"Who is responsible for this?" Richards asked. "What kind of monster would do such a thing?"

"Christina's aunt." Lyon 's voice sounded his anger.

Richards dropped the letter on the desk. "Forgive me for saying this, Christina, but I believe your aunt is a-"

"Think it but don't say it," Lyon interrupted before Richards could finish his sentence.

Christina sagged against Lyon 's chair. Lyon put his arm around her waist. "I still don't understand how it was done. The seal wasn't disturbed."

Richards was the one who explained how easy it was to use steam to open an envelope. "An expert would have been able to tell, my dear," he said.

Richards left minutes later. As soon as the door closed behind him, Christina burst into tears. Lyon pulled her onto his lap. He hugged her close to him.

He didn't try to quiet her. She had a good store of tears, and it was quite a while before her racking sobs slowed down.

"I've gotten your shirt all wet," Christina whispered between hiccups.

She obviously wasn't ready to do anything about it. Christina cuddled up against his chest, tucked her head under his chin, and let out a weary sigh.

She didn't move again for a long time. Lyon thought she might have fallen asleep. He didn't mind. He'd hold her close for the rest of the afternoon, if that was what she needed. In truth, he thought it might take him that long to rid himself of his anger.

Richards had meant to call the Countess a bitch, Lyon decided. The old bat was that, all right, and more.

Christina's mind must have been following the same path, for she suddenly whispered, "Do you know that I used to believe all the English were like my aunt?"

He didn't answer her. But his breath caught in his throat, and he prayed his silence would encourage her to tell him more.

His patience was rewarded minutes later.

"My father hated the whites. And when I lived with the Countess in Boston, my only friend was Mr. Deavenrue. He is the one who took me to my aunt, and he would come every day to tutor me. I wasn't permitted to go outdoors. The Countess kept telling me she was ashamed of me. I was very confused. I didn't understand why she believed I was so unworthy."

"You aren't, my love," Lyon said emphatically. "You are very, very worthy."

Christina nodded. "It is good of you to notice," she said.

He smiled over the sincerity in her voice.

And then he waited for her to tell him more.

It seemed an eternity had passed before she spoke again. "She used to lock me in my room at night. I tried not to hate her for that."

Lyon closed his eyes and drew a shaky breath. He could feel her anguish. It washed over him like hot lava until his eyes smarted with tears.

"I couldn't stand being locked in like that. I finally put a stop to it."

"How, sweetheart?"

"I took the hinges off the door," Christina confessed. "The Countess started bolting her bedroom door then. She was afraid of me. I didn't mind that. She's old, Lyon, and for that reason I tried to respect her. It is what my mother would have wanted."

"Jessica?"

"No, I never knew Jessica."

"Then who?"

"Merry."

Lyon couldn't stop himself from asking her another question. "And does she also hate the whites?"

"Oh, no, Merry doesn't hate anyone."

"But the man you call Father does?"

He didn't think she was going to answer him. The silence stretched between them for long minutes.

He shouldn't have prodded her, he told himself. Damn, he'd only just vowed never to ask her any more questions.

"Yes, he does," Christina whispered. "But not me, of course. My father loves me with all his heart."

Christina waited for his reaction. Her heart pounded furiously.

Lyon didn't say a word. Christina decided then that he hadn't understood.

"I have a brother."

Nothing. Not a word, not a sigh, not even a mutter. "His name is White Eagle."

A slow smile settled on Lyon 's face.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you, Lyon?" she asked.

He kissed the top of her head. "I understand," he whispered. He cupped the sides of her face and gently forced her mouth upward. He kissed her tenderly.

And then he soothed her fears away. "I understand that I am the most fortunate man in all the world. I never believed I'd find anyone I could love the way I love you, Christina. I owe your family a great debt, sweetheart. They kept you safe for me."

"You don't know them, and yet you sound as if you care about them," Christina whispered. Her voice shook with emotion.

"Of course I care," Lyon said. "Your mother must be a gentle, loving woman, and your father…"

"A proud warrior," Christina supplied. "As proud as you, Lyon."

"I love you, Christina. Did you really believe that your background would make me think you were less than-"

"I have never felt unworthy. Never. I am a lioness. In truth, I thought the English were unworthy… until I met you."

Lyon smiled. "You have gained some of your father's arrogance," he noted. "That pleases me."

"It isn't going to be easy for you, Lyon. I have different habits. I don't want to have to pretend any longer. At least not when we are alone…"

"Good. I don't want you to pretend whatever it is you pretend either," Lyon announced. He laughed then, for he didn't have the faintest idea what he'd just said.

"I love you, Lyon," Christina whispered. Her fingers caressed the nape of his neck. " Lyon? I want…"

"I do too," Lyon growled. He kissed her again, hungrily this time. His tongue plunged inside to taste, to stroke. Christina curled her arms around his neck. She'd meant to tell him she wanted to go home to Lyonwood, but his kiss soon pushed that thought aside. His mouth slanted over hers, again and again, until her breath was little more that a soft pant.

"Let's go upstairs, Lyon," she whispered between passionate kisses.

"There isn't time, Christina."

" Lyon!"

He tried to smile over the demand in her voice, but he was too occupied trying to hold onto his control. Christina was rubbing against his arousal, nipping his earlobe with her teeth, and stroking him wild with her hands.

He couldn't have made it up the stairs if his life had depended upon it.

Chapter Fourteen

He came during the night, while everyone was sleeping. The Jacksons had made their beds outside. It was bitterly cold, but Jacob wanted privacy, and for that reason he'd made a small tent.

I heard a strange sound, and when I looked outside the wagon I saw a man bent over Emily and Jacob. I called out to the man, still not realizing the danger. In my mind I thought it was Jacob's turn to take the watch.

The man stood and turned into the moonlight. The scream was trapped in my throat. Edward had come after me. He held a bloody knife in his hand.

I was so stunned and so terrified I could barely move. You were the one who forced me into action, Christina. Yes, for when you awakened and started to whimper, I came out of my stupor. I wasn't going to let Edward kill you.

I grabbed Jacob's hunting knife just as Edward climbed into the wagon. 1 screamed and thrust the blade in his face. Edward snarled in pain. The tip of the knife cut the edge of his eye. "Give me the jewels," he demanded as he knocked the weapon out of my hands.

The camp awakened to my screams. Edward heard the shouts of confusion behind him. He told me he'd come back to kill me. He looked over at the basket you slept in, Christina, then turned back to me. "I'll kill her first. You should have let Patricia have her," he added with a sneer before he slithered out of the wagon.

The Jacksons were dead. Their throats had been slashed. I told the wagonmaster I'd heard a sound and had seen a man leaning over Jacob and Emily.

A search was made of the camp. The light was poor, and Edward wasn't found.

Several hours later the camp again settled down. Three times the number of guards were posted as a precaution, and it had been decided that the burial for the Jacksons would take place at daybreak.

I waited, then bundled you up and calmly rode out of the camp. I didn't know where I was going, didn't care.

I had failed you, Christina. It was over. It was only a matter of time before Edward hunted us down.

Journal entry October 20, 1795

It was early afternoon when Lyon kissed Christina goodbye. She assumed he was going to meet Rhone for their scheduled card game. Lyon, in his haste to make the necessary arrangements for Jack's arrival at Rhone 's house, didn't take the time to set his wife straight. He told her only that the card game had been delayed and that he had important business to see to.

Christina had just changed into a deep blue dress when Kathleen announced that Lady Diana was downstairs waiting to see her.

"She's terribly upset about something," Kathleen told her mistress. "The poor dear is crying."

Christina hurried down the winding staircase. When Diana saw her, she blurted out the news about Rhone.

Christina led her sister-in-law into the drawing room, then sat down beside her and patted her hand while she poured out the full story.

"The poor man is innocent," Diana sobbed. "He's trying to be so noble, too. Did you know he is even having parties every night? Oh, if only Lyon will come home soon so that I can tell him what has happened. He will know what to do."

"I'm sure he'll find out very soon," Christina said. "This is all my fault," she added.

"How can it be your fault?" Diana asked.

Christina didn't answer her. She felt responsible for Rhone 's problem. She was the one who'd wounded him, after all, and the guilt belonged on her shoulders.

"I must think of a way to… Diana, did you say Rhone is having a party tonight?"

"Yes. Aunt Harriett won't let me attend," Diana said. "We are already promised to another affair, but I would much rather go to Rhone 's."

Christina hid her smile. "Of course you would," she said, patting Diana's hand again. "It's all going to be over by tomorrow," she added in a mock whisper.

"How could that be?" Diana whispered back. "Do you know something you aren't telling me?" she asked.

"Yes," Christina answered. She deliberately paused, then cast a glance over her shoulder. When she turned back to Diana, she said, "I have it on good authority that the real Jack is going out hunting tonight."

Diana's gasp told Christina she believed her. "You mustn't say a word to anyone, Diana, else Jack might find out and decide against going out."

Diana clasped her hands together. "I won't tell, I promise you," she said. "But how did you learn-"

"There isn't time to go into the details," Christina announced. "And I have an important errand to see to. May I ride with you back to your home and then borrow your carriage for a short spell?"

"Yes, of course," Diana responded. "I could go with you on your errand," she volunteered.

Christina shook her head. "Hurry, Diana. There's much to be done."

"There is?"

"Never mind. Now dry your eyes and come along."

Christina pulled Lyon 's sister behind her. She turned Diana's attention away from the matter of Jack by asking several questions about her family.

"Was Lyon close to his brother James?" she asked.

"For a time. They were very competitive," Diana said. " Lyon would always best James-in riding, sword fighting, and… well, even with women," she added with a shrug. "James seemed obsessed with winning. He took chances."

"How did he die?"

"Fell from his mount. He didn't linger. His death was quick. Baron Winters, our family physician, said it was painless. I think he might have said that to ease Mama's mind."

"About your mother," Christina began, her voice hesitant. "Diana, I know you must be very close to her, but I hope you won't argue with my plan."

"What plan?" Diana asked, frowning.

"I would like to take your mother with me tomorrow when I return to Lyonwood."

"Are you serious? Does Lyon know of this intention?"

"Quit looking so suspicious," Christina admonished with a small smile. "I do have your mama's best interests at heart. You have a season to see to, or I'd ask you to come along. I know the separation will be difficult for you. She is your mama, after all," she told her as she continued on.

Diana lowered her gaze to stare at her hands. She was ashamed of the acute relief she was feeling. Someone was finally going to take charge of her mama. "It is dreadful for me to admit this to you, but you are my sister now, and so I will confess I will not miss Mama at all."

Christina didn't know what to say. She opened the door of the carriage for her sister-in-law, then said, "Your mother has been a bit… difficult, then?"

"You've met her," Diana whispered. "All she wants to talk about is James. She doesn't care about me or Lyon.

James was her firstborn. Oh, I know you think less of me now. I shouldn't have told you that I-"

Christina reached out to take Diana's hands in hers. "You must always tell me the truth. It's the only way to go along, you see. Diana, I know you love your mama. You wouldn't be so angry with her if you didn't."

Diana's eyes widened. "I am angry," she announced.

"You must go inside now. I have to see to my errand," Christina said, changing the subject. "Please have the servants pack up your mother's things. I shall come and fetch her tomorrow morning."

Diana suddenly lunged at Christina, capturing her in an awkward hug. "I am so happy Lyon married you."

"I'm also happy that I married him," Christina told her.

Diana let go of Christina. She climbed out of the carriage, then turned to plead once more to go along on the mysterious errand. Christina again denied her request, then waited until she'd gone inside the townhouse before turning to the driver and giving him her destination.

"Do you know where the Bleak Bryan is located?" the driver responded. His eyes were bulging out of his face, and he swallowed several times.

"No, I don't know exactly where it's located. Do you, sir?"

"Well, yes, madam, I do," the driver stammered.

"Then that is all that matters, isn't it? Please take me there at once."

Christina got back inside the carriage and shut the door. The driver's pale face suddenly appeared at the open window. "You cannot be serious, madam. The Bleak Bryan is in the most unsavory part of London. Cutthroats and-"

" Bryan is a special friend of mine. I must go to him now, sir. What is your name?" she asked.

"Everet," the driver announced.

"Everet," Christina repeated. She gave him a smile meant to dazzle him, then said, "It is a very good name. Now then, Everet, I must tell you that I will be very unhappy if you don't do as I've requested. Yes, I will," she added in a firm voice.

Everet paused to scratch the bald spot on the top of his head before answering. "That's the rub of it, madam. You'll be unhappy if I don't take you to the Bleak Bryan tavern, but your husband, when he hears of it, will kill me. I'll be getting it no matter what I do. That's the rub, all right."

"Oh, I understand your hesitation now. You don't realize my husband has specifically requested that I make this visitation to Mr. Bryan. Put your fears aside, my good man. Lyon knows all about this."

Everet did look relieved. The Marchioness's sincerity was apparent to him. She was such an innocent little thing, Everet thought. Why, she wouldn't even know how to be devious.

The driver stammered out his apology, requested that Christina bolt her doors from the inside, and then hastened back up on his perch.

He drove the carriage at breakneck pace. Christina thought the man might be a little frightened.

Her conclusions were proven correct when they finally arrived at the tavern. When Everet helped her from the carriage, his hands were shaking. He kept glancing over his shoulder. "Please, madam, be quick with your business in there. I'll be waiting inside your carriage, if you don't mind," he whispered.

"Oh, you don't have to wait for me. I don't know how long my business will take. Go along home now, Everet. Mr. Bryan will see that I get home."

"But madam," Everet stammered out. "What if he ain't inside? What if he went on an errand of his own?"

"Then I shall have to wait for him," Christina announced. She started toward the door, calling her gratitude over her shoulder, and before Everet could get his wits about him to think what to do the Marchioness had disappeared inside the tavern.

She hadn't come unprepared. No, she wasn't as foolish as Everet's look suggested. Christina hid a small knife in her hand; her regular one was strapped above her ankle. She was far more comfortable with the larger knife, but she couldn't very well carry it in her hand. Why, she'd be giving the impression she wanted a confrontation.

From past experience, Christina had learned that most mischief makers were an ignorant breed. One had to be firm from the outset.

She stood inside the doorway for a long minute as she looked around the crowded area in search of the owner. There were at least twenty men sitting at the wooden tables and another few leaning against the warped bar that ran the length of the right side of the large room.

A man was standing behind the bar, staring gape-mouthed at her. Christina assumed the gentleman worked for the owner and immediately started over to him.

She didn't get more than halfway there before the first oaf tried to deter her. The man was rank with the smell of ale, his motion awkward when he tried to grab her.

Christina slapped his hand away with her blade. The man immediately let out a howl of pain. Everyone inside the tavern watched the big man lift his hand and stare at it in astonishment.

"You cut me!"

His bellow shook the rafters. "You cut me," he roared again as he started to lunge toward Christina.

Christina hadn't moved. She flashed the knife in front of his eyes. "Sit down or I shall have to hurt you again."

She really didn't have time for this, she told herself. There was so much to be seen to before Rhone 's party.

"You cut me, you-"

"You tried to touch me," Christina answered. The tip of her knife rested against the befuddled man's throat. "And if you try again, you'll be drinking your ale from the hole I shall fashion in your neck."

She heard the snickers and turned her gaze to find the offender. "I have business to attend to with Mr. Bleak Bryan."

"Are you his lovey, then?" someone shouted out.

Christina let out a sigh of frustration. The mischief maker sitting next to her immediately thought to attack again.

She never even looked down at him as she pricked a narrow, shallow cut in his neck.

He howled again. Christina turned her gaze to the ceiling, praying for patience.

Yes, the mischief makers of the world were all the same. Ignorant.

"I'm the Marquess of Lyonwood's lovey," she told the group of men. "My husband's friend is the owner of this tavern. I have immediate business with the man, and my patience is wearing thin." She paused to scowl at the man holding his neck. "It is a paltry cut, sir, but if you do not cease this foolishness, I promise the next will be more painful."

Though Christina didn't realize it, the news that she was Lyon 's wife had changed every man's opinion. "Leave her be, Arthur, if you want to live. She's the mistress of Lyonwood."

"Your name is Arthur?" Christina asked.

The man she'd just questioned was too terrified to answer her.

"Arthur is an appealing name, sir. Do you know the story of Camelot? No?" she asked when the man continued to stare at her stupidly. "Your mama must have read the tale then and named you after King Arthur," she decided for him.

Arthur wasn't listening to her. His mind was far away, captured by the nightmare of what the Marquess of Lyonwood was going to do to him when he heard of this foul incident. "I didn't mean nothing by trying to snatch you. I'm good as dead," he whined. "I didn't know-"

"That I was a married lady?" Christina asked. She let out a sigh. "Well, I suppose you couldn't have known I wasn't available, but it was rude of you to try to snatch a lady without gaining her permission first," she instructed. "But you're not going to die because of your ill manners, Arthur," she added in a gentle voice.

She turned to address her audience. "Does anyone else want to try to snatch me?"

Every single man inside the tavern shouted his denial. And they kept shaking their heads in unison.

It was an amusing sight, but Christina hid her smile. She didn't want them to think she was laughing at them.

"Is your promise true?" she demanded, just to make certain it was safe to put her knife away.

Christina did smile then. She couldn't help herself. The men's vigorous nods were too amusing a sight.

"Arthur, go and wash your cuts now," Christina instructed over her shoulder as she walked over to the bar to wait for the attendant. "I shall send medicine to soothe the sting just as soon as I'm finished here. Does anyone happen to know where Mr. Bleak Bryan is?" she asked the silent men.

"Connor went to fetch him, miss," a man called out.

Christina smiled at the thin little man. She noticed then that he was holding cards in his hand. "Are you having a game of chance?" she called out, biding her time until Bryan arrived and trying at the same time to ease the tension in the room. "I'm sorry if I interrupted you, sir."

"No, no," the man replied. "I couldn't get no one to play."

"Why is that?"

"Nitty is too lucky, miss," another shouted out.

"Are you a patient man, Nitty?" Christina asked.

"Don't rightly know, your grace," Nitty answered.

Christina decided against explaining that she shouldn't be addressed as "your grace." The man looked very nervous to her.

"Shall we find out?" Christina asked. Her husky laughter warmed smiles onto the men's faces. "I would like to learn to play cards, sir, and if you have the time and the inclination, now would be fine with me. I must wait to speak to the owner…"

"I would be honored to teach you the ways," Nitty announced. His shoulders straightened. "Poppy, clear a space for the lady," he ordered. "Get her a clean seat, Preston. What game were you wanting to learn, miss?" he asked.

"What game do men like to play?"

"Well now, your husband's game is poker, miss, but of course you wouldn't be wanting to learn-"

"Oh, but I would," Christina announced.

"Here, miss," another shouted. "I'll stake you to a few coins when you've caught on."

"Coins?"

"To bet with," another eager man said.

Christina couldn't believe how helpful the men were. The man named Poppy made a dramatic flourish with his arm as he bowed. "Your chair awaits, my lady," he announced. "Spit's dry now. It's clean as can be."

After taking her seat at the round table, Christina nodded to Nitty. "Do you know my husband, then?" she asked as she watched him flip the cards together. "You said poker was his game," she added as explanation for her question.

"We all know of him, miss," Poppy announced over her shoulder.

"Oh, that is nice," Christina said. "Now then, Nitty. Explain this game to me. Thank you for your coins, sir, and you as well, and… oh, I don't believe I need this much money, gentlemen," she added when the coins mounted into a heap in front of her. "You are all so very generous. My husband is fortunate to have such good friends."

Christina's husband was thinking much the same thought as he finished giving his orders to five seedy-looking but very loyal men behind the tavern. Bryan stood by his side, wishing with all his heart he could take part in the charade.

"Damn it all, Lyon, I wish I could be there to see Rhone 's expression. Remember, lad," he told the man who was going to imitate Jack, "to stay in the background. Your eyes aren't as green as Rhone 's are. Someone might notice."

" Bryan, you got to come back inside," the bartender nagged for the third time. "I'm telling you a fight is brewing. Didn't you hear the screams?"

"I only hear men having a good time, Connor. Whoever sparked the fight must have changed his mind. Now get back inside before I'm robbed blind."

Bryan scowled Connor inside, then stayed beside Lyon, listening to him advise the men.

A sudden roar of laughter caught his attention. Bryan nodded to Lyon and then strolled back inside the tavern to see what everyone was cheering about. He immediately noticed the crowd had gathered around the corner table, and he started forward just as several men shifted their positions. He was able to see the occupants of the table then. After a long disbelieving minute, Bryan turned tail and ran out the back door.

" Lyon, are you finished yet?"

"I was just leaving," Lyon answered. "Why? Do you have a problem?" he asked. The tone in Bryan 's voice had put him on his guard. His friend sounded like he was strangling.

"It isn't my problem, it's yours," Bryan answered.

When Lyon tried to walk inside, Bryan blocked the entrance with his arm. "Are you still a betting man, Lyon?"

Lyon let Bryan see his exasperation. "I am."

"Then I'll wager you're about to get the surprise of your life," Bryan said. He moved to the side, then crooked his thumb. "Your surprise is waiting inside."

Lyon didn't have time for foolishness. He hurried inside, believing Bryan wanted him to disarm a man or two.

The crowd of men blocked his view of the table. "There's no danger here," he told Bryan. "What's the attraction, I wonder," he added. "Does Nitty have a new victim for his card tricks?"

"Oh, it's a card game all right," Bryan drawled out. "Frankie, how's the game going?"

"The little miss just bested Nitty with a paltry pair of tens," someone called out from the crowd.

"Ain't my fault," Nitty bellowed goodnaturedly. "She's got a quick mind. Why, she took to the game the way crabs takes-"

"Watch your mouth, Nitty," another man shouted. "The Marquess of Lyonwood's woman is respectable, you stupid little sod. Talk clean in front of her."

The Marquess of Lyonwood's woman.

He couldn't have heard what he thought he'd just heard. No, it couldn't be…

Lyon turned to Bryan. His friend was slowly nodding. Lyon still had trouble believing. He walked over to the crowd. Some of the more anxious men moved out of his way.

The cheering abruptly stopped. Christina wasn't aware of the tension in the atmosphere, or the fact that her husband was standing directly behind Nitty, staring at her.

She was concentrating on her hand, her frown intense. Nitty, on the other hand, was afraid to look behind him. He could see the expressions on the faces of the men who stood behind Christina. None of them looked too happy. "I believe I'll fold, miss."

Christina didn't look up, but she drummed her fingertips on the tabletop and stared at the five cards she held in her other hand. "No, Nitty, you can't fold now. You told me I had to put up or fold." She pushed the pile of coins into the center, then glanced up to smile at her new friend. "I shall see you."

Nitty dropped his cards on the table. "Uh, miss, you didn't have to put all the coins in the pot. I've got you beat with my three kings, you see, but you can have the coins back. It's only a teaching game."

The men nodded. Some grumbled their approval while others cast fearful glances in Lyon 's direction.

Christina didn't dare look up from her hand. Nitty had warned her that the expressions on players' faces often revealed what they held in their hands. Since Nitty had already shown her his cards, she wasn't sure if that law still applied, but she wasn't about to take any chances… not with the wonderful cards she'd been dealt.

"Fair is fair, Nitty. Winner takes all. Didn't you say that?"

"I did, miss," Nitty stammered out.

Christina placed two sevens down on the table. She'd deliberately withheld the other three cards. "Gentlemen," she told the men hovering around her, "Prepare to collect your winnings."

"But miss, you've got to best my…"

Nitty stopped his explanation when Christina flipped over the other cards.

"Good God, she's got three aces," Nitty whispered. His voice was filled with relief. Lyon 's woman had won the hand.

Christina's husky laughter wasn't echoed by her audience. They all watched the Marquess of Lyonwood, awaiting his judgment. He didn't look too happy. If the powerful Marquess wasn't amused, then neither were they.

Christina was busy stacking the coins in several piles. "Nitty? While we continue to wait for Mr. Bleak's return, I would like you to show me how to cheat. Then, you see, I'll know how it's done and won't be easily tricked."

Nitty didn't answer her request. Christina glanced up at her teacher.

The man looked terrified. The silence finally registered in her mind. She didn't understand until she looked up and found her husband staring down at her.

Her reaction was immediate, her surprise obvious. " Lyon, what are you doing here?"

Her sweet, welcoming smile infuriated him beyond measure. The woman appeared to be pleased to see him.

Christina's smile did falter as her husband continued to stand there staring at her without giving her a greeting.

A tremor of apprehension slowly straightened her shoulders. The truth finally settled in her mind. Lyon was furious. Christina frowned in confusion. " Lyon?" she asked, her voice hesitant. "Is something the matter?"

Lyon ignored her question. His cold gaze swept over the crowd of men.

"Out."

He cleared the tavern with one word. His voice had cracked like a whip. While Christina watched, the men rushed to do his bidding. Nitty tripped over his chair in his hurry to leave the tavern.

"You've forgotten your coins," Christina called after the men.

"Do not say another word."

Lyon had roared his command to her. Christina's eyes widened in disbelief. She stood up to face her husband. "You dare to raise your voice to me in front of strangers? In front of our friend, Bleak Bryan?"

"I damn well do dare," Lyon bellowed.

The chilling rebuke stunned her. She turned to look at his friend, caught his sympathetic expression, and was suddenly so ashamed she wanted to weep.

"You are humiliating me in front of another warrior." Her voice trembled and she clasped her hands together.

He believed she was afraid of him. Her forlorn expression cut through his haze of anger. Lyon 's expression slowly changed until he looked almost in control.

"Tell me what you're doing here," Lyon demanded. His voice was still harsh with his suppressed anger. Lyon considered that a victory of sorts over his temper, for he still felt the need to shout.

She hadn't understood the danger. Lyon kept repeating that statement inside his head until it became a litany. No, she hadn't realized what could have happened to her…

He was all too aware of the horrors awaiting a gentle lady in this part of London. Lyon forced himself to block the black possibilities from his thoughts, knowing he'd never regain control if he didn't.

Christina couldn't look at her husband. She stood with her head bowed, staring at the tabletop.

" Lyon, your wife must have had a terribly important reason for coming here," Bryan stated, trying to ease the tension between husband and wife.

Christina's head jerked up to look at Bryan. "My husband is angry because I came here?" she asked, her voice incredulous.

Bryan didn't know what to say to that absurd question. He decided to ask one of his own. "You didn't know what a sorry area this is?"

She had to take a deep breath before she spoke again. Her hands were fisted at her sides. "I will go wherever I wish to go… whenever I want."

Oh, hell, Bryan thought to himself, she's done it now. He gave Lyon a quick glance before looking back at Christina.

The sweet innocent didn't know her husband very well yet. Why, she'd just waved a red flag in front of his face.

Lyon wasn't over his initial anger. It helped little to prod him the way Christina was doing. Bryan rushed to intervene before Lyon had time to react to his wife's ill-chosen remark. "Why don't you both sit down? I'll leave you to your privacy…"

"Why? He already humiliated me in front of you," Christina whispered.

"Christina, we're going home. Now."

Lyon 's voice had turned into a soft whisper. Bryan hoped Christina would realize that wasn't a good sign.

No, she hadn't realized. She turned to glare at her husband. Bryan had to shake his head over her indiscretion.

Lyon moved with the speed of lightning. Christina suddenly found herself pinned up against the back wall, her sides blocked by his hands. His face was only inches away from hers, and the heat of his anger was hot enough to burn.

"This is how it works in England, Christina. The wife does as her husband orders. She goes only where the husband allows her to go, only when he allows it. Got that?"

Bryan was pacing behind Lyon 's back. His heart went out to the delicate flower Lyon had wed. The poor dear had to be terrified. Why, even he was a bit nervous. Lyon 's temper still had the power to frighten him.

When Christina answered her husband, Bryan realized she wasn't frightened at all. "You have shamed me. Where I come from, that is sufficient reason for a wife to cut her hair, Lyon."

He was trying to calm down, but her absurd remark made him crazy. "What the hell does that mean?"

She didn't want to take the time to explain. No, Christina could feel her anger burning inside her. She wanted to scream at him. But she wanted to weep, too. That made little sense to her, but she was too upset to reason the contrary emotions clear. "When a woman cuts her hair, it is because she has lost someone. A wife cuts her hair when her husband dies… or when she casts him aside."

"That is the most ridiculous notion I've ever heard of." Lyon muttered. "Do you realize what you're implying? You're speaking of divorce."

The enormity of her folly and her outrageous remarks suddenly hit him full force. Lyon dropped his forehead on top of hers, closed his eyes, and started to laugh. Her blessed arrogance had pushed his anger away.

"I knew you'd change when you knew my past, you inferior Englishman," she raged against him. "You're nothing but a… stupid little sod," she announced, remembering one of the men's earlier comments to another.

"You and I are going to have a long talk," Lyon drawled. "Come along," he ordered as he grabbed hold of her hand and started to pull her after him.

"I have still to speak to Mr. Bleak," Christina said. "Unhand me, Lyon," she added, trying to jerk her hand away.

"Perhaps you didn't get it after all," Lyon remarked over his shoulder. "I just told you that a wife goes where her husband-"

" Lyon? I'm ready to kill with curiosity," Bryan interposed. He'd caught the irritation in his friend's voice and was trying to intervene before another conflict started. "I would like to know why your wife came here," he added with an embarrassed stammer.

Lyon paused at the door. "Tell him," he ordered Christina.

She wished she could deny his command so that he would realize she'd meant every word of what she'd said to him, but Rhone 's well-being was at issue, so she put her pride aside. " Rhone is having a party tonight," she began. "I wanted to ask you if you could find some good men to act as mischief makers and-"

Christina never finished her explanation. Lyon dragged her out the door in the middle of her sentence. They walked halfway around the block before his carriage came into view. No wonder she hadn't known he was visiting Bryan, she thought to herself. The man had hidden his vehicle a good distance away.

She didn't understand his reason, yet she wasn't about to question him. Her voice might betray her. Christina knew she was close to weeping. She didn't think she'd ever been this angry in all her life.

Neither said a word to the other until they were home. Lyon used the time to try to calm down. It was a difficult endeavor. He couldn't quit thinking about what could have happened to Christina. The unwanted images fueled his temper. God help him, his knees had nearly buckled under him when he'd first spotted Christina in the tavern.

She was playing cards with the worst thugs in London. She hadn't realized her jeopardy, of course; she couldn't have. She wouldn't have looked so pleased with herself if she had. And she had smiled at him. Lyon didn't think he'd ever been so furious… or so frightened.

"You're too damned innocent for your own good," he muttered after he'd jerked the door to the carriage open.

Christina wouldn't look at him. She kept her gaze directed on her lap, and when he made his unkind remark she merely shrugged her shoulders in indifference.

He offered her his hand when she climbed out of the vehicle. She ignored it.

It wasn't until she'd raced on ahead of him that he realized she'd cut a portion of her hair. The curls ended in the middle of her back now.

Brown met them at the door. After giving his butler instructions to watch over his wife, he chased after Christina. She was halfway up the staircase when he stopped her. "When I'm not too angry to speak of this matter, I will explain to you why-"

"I don't wish to hear your reasons," Christina interrupted.

Lyon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Don't you dare venture out again until tomorrow morning," he told her. "I have to go to Rhone 's now."

"I see."

"No, I don't think you do see," Lyon muttered. "Christina, you went to Bryan to ask his help in finding men to masquerade as Jack and his friends, didn't you?"

She nodded.

"Wife, you have little faith in me," Lyon whispered, shaking his head.

Christina believed his comment was ridiculous. "Faith has nothing to do with my errand. I didn't know you'd been informed of Rhone 's terror."

"Terror?"

"He's been barred inside his house," Christina explained. "Since he is your friend, I thought of a most cunning plan. You ruined it," she added.

"No, you would have ruined it," Lyon announced. "I've already taken care of the problem, Christina. Now give me your word that you'll stay inside."

"I have no other errands to take care of," Christina answered.

When he let go of her arm, Christina turned and rushed up the rest of the steps. Lyon was just walking out the front door when she called out to him.

" Lyon?"

"Yes."

"You're going to have to apologize. Will you do it now or when you return from Rhone 's house?"

"Apologize?"

He'd shouted the word at her. Christina concluded he wasn't contrite. "Then you're going to have to start all over," she shouted back.

"What are you talking about? I don't have time for riddles," Lyon announced. "If anyone's going to apologize…"

He didn't bother to finish his demand, for his wife had turned her back on him and disappeared down the hallway.

She'd just dismissed him again. Lyon didn't think he was ever going to get used to that action.

He wasn't ever going to understand her, either. She had a devious mind. She'd come up with the same plan he had to help Rhone. He couldn't help being impressed.

Lord, the task ahead of him would certainly prove exhausting. He was going to have to go to great lengths to keep Christina safe. She'd get into quick trouble if he wasn't always by her side, watching over her. Christina didn't seem to understand caution. Hell, she didn't even know enough to be afraid of him when his temper exploded.

No woman had ever raised her voice to him… nor had many men, Lyon realized. Yet Christina certainly had. When he shouted at her, he got equal measure in return.

She was his equal in all things. Her passion matched his own, and in his heart, he knew she loved him just as much.

Yes, the next twenty years, God willing, were going to be exhausting.

And very, very satisfying.