The Lion's Lady

Chapter Seventeen

The time had come to face the jackal. Christina was nervous, though not nearly as nervous as her husband. Lyon 's expression was grim. The ride from their London townhouse to Porter's home was silent. Yet once they'd reached their destination, Lyon seemed disinclined to let Christina out of the carriage.

"Sweetheart, you're sure you're all right?"

Christina smiled up at her husband. "I'm fine, really."

"God, I wish there had been a way to keep you out of this," he whispered. "You look pale to me."

"You should be complimenting me on my new gown, Lyon. You chose the fabric, remember?" she asked. Christina pushed open the door of the carriage.

"I've already told you how beautiful you look," Lyon murmured.

He finally got out of the carriage and turned to help his wife. He thought she looked quite beautiful. The royal blue velvet gown was modestly scoop-necked. Her hair was curled into a cluster with a thin blue velvet ribbon threaded through the silky mass.

Christina reached up to brush a speck of link off Lyon 's black jacket. "You also look beautiful," she told him.

Lyon shook his head. He pulled her matched blue cloak over her shoulders. "You're doing this deliberately. Quit trying to ease my worry. It won't work."

"You like to worry, husband?" she asked.

Lyon didn't bother to answer her. "Give me your promise again," he demanded.

"I'll not leave your side." She repeated the vow she'd already given him at least a dozen times. "No matter what, I'll stand next to you."

Lyon nodded. He took her hand and started up the steps. "You really aren't frightened, are you, love?"

"A little," Christina whispered. "Richards has given me his assurance that justice in England is equal to that of the Dakotas. He'd better be right, Lyon, or we shall have to take matters into our own hands." Her voice had turned hard. "Strike the door, husband. Let's get this pretense of joyful reunion over and done with."

Richards was waiting for them in the foyer. Christina was surprised by his enthusiastic reception. Lyon had lost his grim expression, too. He acted as though he hadn't seen his friend in a long while, which was exactly what they wanted everyone to believe.

After greeting their host, a dour-faced man with a portly figure, Christina asked if Baron Stalinsky was in the receiving room.

"I can imagine how eager you must be to meet your father," Porter announced, his voice filled with excitement. "He's still upstairs, but he will certainly be joining us in a moment or two. I've kept the list of guests to a minimum, my dear, so that you may have time for a lengthy visit with your father. You must certainly have a book's worth of news to exchange."

Lyon removed Christina's wrap, handed it to the butler waiting beside them, then told Porter he'd take his wife into the drawing room to await the Baron.

Her hand was cold when he clasped it in his own. He could feel her trembling. The smile never left his face, but the urge to take Christina back home and return to face her father alone nearly overwhelmed him.

The Dakotas had the right idea, Lyon decided. According to Christina, verbal slander was all that was needed for an open challenge. What followed next was a battle to the death. Justice was swift. The system might have been a bit barbaric, yet Lyon liked its simplicity.

There were only eighteen guests in the drawing room. Lyon counted them while Christina had a long conversation with their hostess. Although his wife stood next to him, he paid little attention to what the two women were discussing. Richards had walked over to join him, and he was trying to listen to his friend advise him on the merits of the changing weather.

When their hostess left, Christina turned to Richards. "Are you aware that our host previously worked for your government in the same manner as you?"

"I am."

She waited for him to say more, then let him see her displeasure when he failed to comment further. " Lyon, Mrs. Porter surely exaggerated her mate's position, but she did mention a fact I found most enlightening."

"What was that, love?" Lyon asked. He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

"She's a gossip," Christina began. "When she saw the way Richards greeted you, she boasted that her husband held the same favor when he was a younger man. I asked her why he'd retired, and she told me she didn't know all the facts but that his last assignment had soured him. It seemed he handled a project that caused a good friend of his some discomfort. Yes, she actually used that word. Discomfort."

"Discomfort? I don't understand. Do you, Richards?" Lyon asked.

Richards was staring at Christina. "You would do well to work for us, Christina. You have ferreted out what took me hours of research to ascertain."

" Lyon, can you guess the name of Porter's good friend?"

"Stalinsky," Lyon said in answer to Christina's question.

"Porter wasn't guilty of error, Christina. His only mistake was in befriending the Baron. He trusted him-still does, for that matter. The baron is a guest in his home, remember. God's truth, I think you'll understand what an easy man the Baron is to trust when you finally meet him."

"By England 's standards, perhaps," Christian replied. "Not by mine. Appearances and manners often cloak a black soul. Are you still unconvinced that Lyon and I are right about the Baron, then?"

"I'm convinced. The court might not see it our way, however, and for that reason we're bypassing our own legal system. There are those who believe Jessica had lost her mind. The argument that your mother had imagined-"

"Did she imagine the mark she gave the baron in his right eye when he tried to kill her? Did she imagine that her friends' throats were slashed? Did she imagine she stole the jewels and hid them under the roses? You've seen the gems, Richards. Did you only imagine you saw them?"

Richards smiled at Christina. "You really should work for me," he said in answer to her challenges. "Now, to refute your arguments. One, the baron could have others testify for him, telling a different story of how he came by the scar. Two, Jessica was the only one who saw the baron kill the husband and wife on that wagon train. No one else saw anyone, according to the writing in her journal. It would be next to impossible to track any of those people down to determine how the couple was killed. We have only Jessica's diary to tell us what happened. In a court of law that wouldn't be enough. Three, there wouldn't be any argument about the jewels. But," he added in a whisper, "we have only Jessica's account to say that her husband had acquired the gems by foul means. He was a king, remember, and the jewels were but a part of his treasury. The fact that he was a ruthless dictator is the last of the rebuttals I will give you. If that is dragged out in court, it will mean little. The Baron would simply retaliate by bringing witness after witness who would testify to his kindness toward his subjects."

"He will admit his sins to me," Christina whispered.

"And your husband and I will gain justice for you with or without your father's admission."

"Christina, your father has just walked into the room." Lyon made the announcement with a wide smile, but his hold on his wife tightened.

The moment had arrived. With it came a fresh surge of anger. Christina forced a smile onto her face, turned from her husband, and began to walk toward the man waiting for her just inside the entrance.

She understood his physical appeal as soon as she looked at him. Baron Stalinsky was a man who commanded attention. He'd aged well. His hair wasn't white, but silver-tipped. The years hadn't made him stoop-shouldered or pot-bellied, either. No, he was still tall, lance-thin, regal in his bearing. It was the color of his eyes that attracted attention, though. They were a piercing blue. Christina was sorry they shared so many physical attributes.

The Baron was smiling at her. His eyes were filled with unshed tears, and surely everyone in the room could see the dimple in his left cheek.

Christina concentrated on the scar beneath his right eye.

She stopped when she was just a foot away, then made a formal curtsy. And all the while she prayed her voice wouldn't betray her.

She knew she'd have to let him embrace her. The thought made her skin crawl. All the guests in the room had focused their attention on this reunion. She never took her gaze off the jackal and was sickened by the fact that everyone was probably smiling over the sweetly emotional reunion.

It seemed to Christina that they stared at each other for a long while before either spoke a word. She could feel Lyon by her side, and when he suddenly took hold of her hand, she recovered her composure.

Lyon was trying to give her his strength, she thought. "Good evening, Father. It is a pleasure to meet you at last."

Baron Stalinsky seemed to come out of his stupor then. He reached out to clasp Christina's shoulders. "I'm overjoyed to meet you, Christina. I can barely think what to say to you. All these precious years wasted," he whispered. A tear escaped from his thick lashes. Christina pulled her hand away from Lyon 's grasp and reached up to brush the tear from her father's cheek. The touch was witnessed by the guests, and Christina could hear their sighs of pleasure.

She let him embrace her. "I thought you were dead, daughter," he admitted. "Do you know how happy I am to have you back, child?"

Christina kept smiling. The effort made her stomach hurt. She slowly pulled away from her father and moved next to Lyon again. "I'm a married woman now, Father," she announced. She quickly introduced Lyon, then prayed he'd take up the conversation for a minute or two. She needed to catch her breath.

"You cannot imagine our surprise to learn you were still alive, Baron," Lyon interjected. His voice was as enthusiastic as a schoolboy's. He kept up the idle chatter until the other guests, led by the Porters, rushed over to express their congratulations.

Christina played the pretense well. She smiled and laughed whenever it was appropriate.

It was bearable only because Lyon stood by her side. An hour passed and then another before Christina and her husband were given a few moments' privacy with Stalinsky.

"Father, how did you come by that scar below your eye?" Christina asked, pretending only mild interest.

"A boyhood accident," the Baron replied, smiling. "I fell from my mount."

"You were lucky," Lyon interjected. "You could have lost your eye."

The baron nodded. "I was thinking quite the same thing about your scar, Lyon. How did that happen?"

"A fight in a tavern," Lyon said. "My first outing as a man," he added with a grin.

One lie for another, Christina thought.

Lyon gave Christina's shoulder a gentle squeeze. She recognized the signal. "Father, I have so many questions to ask you, and I'm certain you have as many to ask me. Does your schedule permit you to lunch with us tomorrow?"

"I would love to, daughter," the Baron replied. "Daughter! It's a joyful word to me now."

"Will you be staying in London long, Baron?" Lyon asked.

"I have no other plans," the Baron answered.

"I'm pleased to hear that," Christina interjected. She prayed her voice sounded enthusiastic. "I've already sent word to my stepfather. When he receives my message and returns from Scotland, you must sit down with him and put his fears to rest."

"Stepfather?" the Baron asked. "The Countess didn't mention a stepfather, Christina. She led me to believe…" The Baron cleared his throat before continuing. "It was a bizarre story, and one look at you would certainly make a mockery out of what she actually suggested… tell me about this stepfather. What fears does the man harbor, and why?"

"Father, first you must appease my curiosity," Christina said. There was laughter in her voice. "Whatever did the horrid old woman tell you?"

"Yes," the Baron sighed, "she is a horrid woman." He made the remark almost absentmindedly.

"Do I detect a blush?" Christina asked.

"I fear you do, daughter. You see, I have only just realized how gullible I was. Why, I did believe her story to be true."

"You've pricked my curiosity as well," Lyon said. "The Countess is very upset with Christina. She was against our marriage because of the matter of my wife's inheritance. The Countess seemed to think she'd control the money," Lyon explained. "Now tell us what fabrication she gave you."

"I've been played for a fool," the Baron returned, shaking his head. "She told me Christina was raised by savages."

"Savages?" Christina asked, trying to look perplexed.

"Indians of the Americas," the Baron qualified.

Christina and Lyon looked at each other. They turned in unison to stare at the Baron. Then they both burst into laughter.

The Baron joined in. "I really was naive to believe her fool's story," he said between chuckles. "But I had heard from the Countess-years ago, you understand-that Jessica had left with a newborn baby girl to join a wagon train headed through the wilderness."

"She did do that," Christina acknowledged. "And it was on the way that she met Terrance MacFinley. He became her protector. Terrance," she added with a soft smile, "didn't know my mother was still married. She told him you'd died. My mother's mind wasn't very… strong." Christina paused after making that comment, furious inside when the Baron nodded agreement. "Terrance was a good man. He told me about my mother."

"But what did you mean when you said I could put your stepfather's fears to rest?"

"Oh, it's a small matter," Christina stalled. "Jessica died when I was just a baby," she continued. "Terrance kept me with him. In one of my mother's sane moments, she made him promise to take care of me until I was old enough to be returned to England."

"How did she die?" the Baron asked. His voice was low and filled with emotion. Tears had gathered in his eyes again. "I loved your mother. I blame myself for her death. I should have recognized the signs of her condition."

"Signs?" Christina asked.

"Of her mind's deterioration," he explained. "She was frightened of everything. When she realized she was going to have a child, I think it was all that was needed to push her completely over the edge. She ran away from me."

"Did you go after her, Father?"

"Not right away," the Baron admitted. "There were business matters to attend to. I had a kingdom to run, you see. I abdicated three weeks later, then went back to England. I fully expected to find my wife with her father. Yet when I reached the Earl of Acton's home, I found out Jessica had fled again. She was headed for the colonies. I, of course, made the assumption she was going to her sister's home in Boston and posted passage on a ship to follow her."

"Mother died of the fever," Christina said.

"I hope she didn't have too much pain," the Baron commented.

"It must have been terrible for you, searching in vain for the woman you loved," Lyon stated.

"Yes, it was a bad time," the Baron acknowledged. "The past is behind us, Christina. I look forward to speaking to this Terrance. How long did he stay with your mother before she died?" he asked.

"I'm not certain of the exact length of time," Christina said. "One night, when the wagon train rested in the valley below the Black Hills, Jessica was awakened by a thief," Christina said. "The couple she was sharing her quarters with were both killed by the villain. Jessica got it into her head that it was you, Father, chasing after her."

Christina paused to shake her head. "She packed me up and ran into the hills. MacFinley saw her leave. He went after her, of course, for he loved her fiercely. I'll be completely honest with you, Father. I don't understand how Terrance could have loved my mother. From what he told me about her, I would think he should have pitied her."

"MacFinley sounds like an honorable man," the Baron said. "I'm eager to meet him to give him my thanks. At least he made Jessica's last hours more comfortable. He did, didn't he?"

Christina nodded. "Yes, but I don't think she really knew he was there with her. Terrance told me he actually spent most of his time protecting me from her. She was so crazed she didn't even remember she had a child. All she talked about was the sin she'd snatched out of some wall."

She paused again, watching for a reaction. The Baron only looked perplexed.

After a long minute he said, "That certainly doesn't make sense. A sin out of a wall?"

"It didn't make any sense to Terrance either. He told me he kept trying to get through to my mother, but all she would talk about was taking the sin and burying it. A tragic ending, wouldn't you agree?"

"Let's not talk about this any longer," Lyon interjected. "Tonight should be a happy reunion," he added.

"Yes, husband, you're right. Father, you must tell me all about the past years and what you've been-"

"Wait!" The Baron's voice had a sharp edge to it. He immediately softened his tone and gave Christina a wide smile. "My curiosity is still to be appeased," he explained. "Did your mother happen to tell Terrance where she buried this sin?"

"Under the blood roses of her father's country home," Christina answered with a deliberate shrug. "Blood roses, indeed. Poor woman. I pray for her soul every night, and I do hope she has found peace."

"I also pray for my Jessica," the Baron said.

"Terrance happened to see the man sneaking toward Jessica's wagon."

Lyon let the lie settle and waited for a reaction. It wasn't long in coming. "You mean the thief?" the Baron asked.

He hadn't blinked an eye. Christina was a little disappointed not to have rattled him. "Yes," she said. "He blames himself for thinking it was only one of the night watchmen. Terrance was late in joining the wagon and didn't know all the people yet. He vows he'll never forget the man's face." Christina quickly described the clothing the thief was wearing from the description in Jessica's diary.

And still there was no outward reaction from the Baron.

"Even though he knows my mother was crazed, there's always been a quiet fear in the back of his mind that it might have been you. And so you see what I mean when I tell you that once he has met you, his fears will be put to rest."

"Tomorrow you both can catch up on all of the past," Lyon said. He could feel Christina trembling and knew he had to get her away from the Baron soon.

Lord, he was proud of her. She had played her part well this night. She had faced the jackal without showing the least amount of fear.

"Shall we go and find some refreshments?" Lyon suggested.

"Yes," the Baron agreed.

Christina, flanked by her husband and her father, walked into the dining room. She sat between them at the long table, sipping from her glass of punch. She didn't want to eat anything, but her father was watching her closely, so she forced herself to swallow the food Lyon placed before her.

"Where did you receive your schooling, Christina? Your manners are impeccable," the Baron announced. "I cannot believe this Terrance MacFinley was responsible," he added with a teasing smile.

"Thank you for your compliment," Christina returned. She was smiling at her father, but her left hand was squeezing Lyon 's thigh under the table.

"MacFinley and his close friend, Deavenrue, kept me until I was seven years of age. Then I was placed in a convent in the south of France. The sisters taught me my manners," she added.

"So there was a Deavenrue after all," the Baron said. "The Countess said he was a missionary who'd stayed with you in the village of the Indians."

"He was a missionary for a short while, and an excellent teacher as well. While I was in Boston Deavenrue came to my aunt's house quite often to see me. The Countess didn't like Deavenrue. Perhaps the rascal told my aunt I'd been with the savages just to provoke her," Christina added. She laughed. "It would be just like Deavenrue. He has the most bizarre sense of humor."

Lyon put his hand on top of Christina's. Her nails were digging into his thigh. His fingers laced with hers, and he gave her a squeeze of encouragement. He was anxious to get Christina out of Porter's house, yet he knew he had to wait until the last lie had been given.

Christina couldn't stand the pretense any longer. "Father, the excitement of the evening has exhausted me. I hope you won't be too disappointed if I go home now. Tomorrow I'll have Cook prepare a special meal just for the three of us. We'll have all afternoon to visit with each other. And, of course, MacFinley will be here in two, three days' time at the most. Then we must have another get-together."

"As soon as two days?" the Baron asked. He looked pleased with that possibility.

"Yes," Lyon answered for Christina. "Terrance lives just beyond the border," he explained. "He surely has Christina's request by now. Why, he is probably on his way to London even as we speak."

" Lyon, Terrance can't travel by night," Christina said. "Are you ready to take me home, husband? I'm terribly fatigued," she added with a flutter of her lashes.

They said their farewells moments later. Christina suffered through another embrace by the Baron.

Lyon pulled her onto his lap when they were once again inside his carriage. He was going to tell her how much he loved her, how very courageous she had been, but the carriage had barely rounded the corner when Christina bolted out of his lap and begged him to have the vehicle stopped.

Lyon didn't understand until Christina started to gag. He shouted to the driver, then got the door open just in the nick of time. He felt completely helpless as he held his wife by her shoulders. She threw up her meal, sobbing without control between her soul-wrenching heaves.

And when she had finished he wrapped her in his arms again. He held her close to him and tried to soothe her with soft words of love.

Lyon didn't speak of her father. Christina had been through enough torment for one evening. God help her, there was still more to come.

Baron Stalinsky left the Porter residence a few minutes before dawn. Lyon was informed of his departure less than fifteen minutes later. Richards had placed a watch on Porter's house, for he was just as convinced as Lyon was that the Baron wouldn't waste any time running to the Earl of Acton's country home to dig up his treasure.

Christina had told her lies well. Lyon was proud of her, though he laced his praise with the fervent hope that once this deception was over, she'd never have to lie again.

Baron Stalinsky was very good at his deadly game. Neither Christina nor Lyon had noticed any visible change in his expression when MacFinley was mentioned. And when Christina said that MacFinley had seen the man who'd killed Jessica's friends, the Baron hadn't even blinked.

There wasn't any MacFinley, of course, but the smooth way Christina had told the story, added to the sincerity in her voice, must have convinced the Baron. He believed the story all right, to the point of rushing out at dawn to regain the jewels.

The morning after the reception Lyon had sent a note to the Baron pleading to reschedule their luncheon for three days hence, explaining that Christina was indisposed. The Baron had sent his note back with Lyon 's messenger, stating that he hoped his daughter would soon recover, and that he would be pleased to honor the later date.

That evening Richards called on Lyon to tell him that the Baron had booked passage on a seafaring vessel bound for the West Indies. His departure was in two days.

He had no intention of ever seeing his daughter again. So much for fatherly love, Lyon thought.

Lyon hurriedly dressed in the dark. He waited until the last possible minute before waking Christina.

When his leaving couldn't be put off any longer, he leaned over the side of the bed, let out a reluctant sigh, and then nudged his wife awake.

"Sweetheart, wake up and kiss me goodbye. I'm leaving now," he whispered between quick kisses on her brow.

Christina came awake with a start. "You must wait for me," she demanded, her voice husky with sleep.

She bolted up in bed, then fell back with a groan of distress. Nausea swept over her like a thick wave. She could feel the bile rising from her stomach. "Oh, God, I'm going to be sick again, Lyon."

"Roll over on your side, sweetheart. It helped last night," Lyon reminded her. His voice was filled with sympathy. "Take deep breaths," he instructed while he rubbed her shoulders.

"It's better now," Christina whispered a minute or two later.

Lyon sat down on the edge of the bed. "Exactly."

"Exactly what?" Christina asked. She didn't dare raise her voice above a whisper, fearing the effort would bring back her nausea.

"Exactly why you're staying here, Christina," Lyon announced. "Seeing your father has made you ill. You've been sick twice a day since the reception."

"It's this stupid bed that makes me sick," she lied.

Lyon stared at the ceiling in exasperation. "You told me the wooden slats made the mattress more accommodating," he reminded her. "You aren't going anywhere, my love, except back to sleep."

"You promised I could go with you," she cried.

"I lied."

" Lyon, I trusted you."

Lyon smiled over the way his wife wailed her confession. She sounded quite pitiful. "You still do trust me, wife. I'll get his confession, I promise you."

"My sore stomach is just an excuse you're using, isn't it, Lyon? You never meant for me to go along. Isn't that the truth of it?"

"Yes," he confessed. "I was never going to let you go along." His voice turned gruff when he added, "Do you think I would ever put you in such jeopardy? Christina, if anything every happened to you, my life would be over. You're the better half of me, sweetheart."

Christina turned her head so that he could see her frown. Lyon realized then that his soft words hadn't swayed her, knew he was going to have to take another tack. "Does a Dakota warrior take his mate along to help him fight his battles? Did Black Wolf take Merry with him?"

"Yes."

"Now you're lying," Lyon stated. He frowned to let her see his displeasure.

Christina smiled. "If the injury had been done to Merry's family, Black Wolf would have taken her with him to see justice done, husband. Lyon, I made a promise to my father and my mother."

"To Black Wolf and Merry?"

Christina nodded. She slowly sat up in bed and was pleased to find that her stomach was cooperating with the movement. Ignoring Lyon 's protest, she swung her legs to the side and stood up.

"Damn it, Christina, you're my mate now. Your promises became mine the moment we were wed. You do belong to me, don't you?"

The challenge in his voice couldn't be ignored. Christina nodded. "You're beginning to sound a bit too much like a warrior for my liking," she muttered. "I would like you to bring me a cup of tea before you leave. It is the least you could do for me," she added.

Lyon smiled, believing he'd won. "I shall fix it myself," he announced.

Christina waited until he'd left the room. She dressed in record time, taking deep, gulping breaths to keep her stomach controlled.

When Lyon returned to their bedroom, he found his wife dressed in a black riding outfit. He let out a soft curse, then sighed with acceptance.

"I must do this for Jessica, Lyon. Please understand."

Lyon nodded. His expression was grim. "Will you do exactly what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it?" he barked.

"I will."

"Promise!"

"I promise."

"Damn!"

She ignored his muttering. "I'm taking my knife with me. It's under the pillow," she said as she walked back over to the bed.

"I know where it is," Lyon said with another drawn-out sigh. "I really wish you wouldn't insist on sleeping with it. The table's close enough."

"I'll think about your suggestion," Christina answered. "Now you must give me your word, Lyon. You won't take any chances, will you? Don't turn your back on him, not even for a second. Don't leave your fate in Richards's hands, either. I trust him, but I have far more faith in your instincts."

She would have continued her litany of demands if Lyon hadn't stopped her by pulling her into his arms and kissing her. "I love you, Christina."

"I love you, too, Lyon. Here, you carry this. It's fitting that you have it, for it was fashioned by a warrior whom I also love. My brother would want you to have it."

Lyon took the weapon and slipped it inside his right boot. Christina nodded with satisfaction, then started out the door. " Lyon?" she called over her shoulder.

"What now?" he grumbled.

"We must make him say the words."

"We will, Christina. We will."

Richards was waiting outside the front door for him. Lyon 's friend was already mounted and holding the reins of Lyon 's stallion. A few minutes were spent waiting for Christina's horse to be readied.

Lyon paced the walkway while he waited. "We have plenty of time," Richards announced when he took in Lyon 's grim expression. "Remember, even if he took men along to help, there are still over a hundred of those prickly rose bushes to be dug up again."

Lyon forced a smile. "I don't think Stalinsky took anyone with him," he remarked as he helped Christina mount her steed. He then climbed atop his own horse with one fluid motion. "How many men do you have posted there?"

"Four of my best," Richards answered. "Benson is in charge. The Baron won't know they're there, and they won't interfere unless he tries to leave," he added. "My dear, are you sure you're up to this outing?"

"I'm sure."

Richards gave Christina a long look, then nodded. "Come along, children. Let's get this done. The captain of Percy's ship is waiting for his passengers."

"Passengers?"

"I've decided to go along. I promised your wife justice would be served. Though we're gaining it through the back door, so to speak, I'm going to be there to make certain. Do you understand my meaning?"

Lyon gave a brisk nod. "I do."

"I don't," Christina admitted.

"I'll explain it later, sweet."

They were the last words spoken until they reached their destination some four hours later. After they dismounted, Richards handed Lyon the moldy box they'd retrieved from the ground on their last visit to Acton 's estate.

"I've replaced the real gems with glass replicas. Wait until I get into position before you confront him."

Lyon shook his head. He handed the box to Christina. "She's going to confront him," he told Richards.

One of Richards's men came over to lead their horses away. He spoke to his superior before pulling the mounts into the forest surrounding them. "You were right, Lyon. Stalinsky came alone."

They separated then. Richards went up the front path and turned to circle the right side of the house. Lyon and Christina moved to the left. He paused before rounding the corner, opened the box his wife held in her hands, and lifted two pieces of cut glass. At first glance they did look like the real thing. They were good enough to fool the Baron, Lyon decided, for the brief minute he wanted him fooled.

He then explained what Christina was going to do.

Baron Stalinsky was kneeling on the ground, his shoulders bent to his task. He was muttering obscenities as he struggled to pull the stem of one fat bush out of the ground. He wore black gloves to protect his hands and worked with determined speed. A narrow shovel rested on the ground beside him.

"Looking for something, Father?"

The Baron whirled around on his knees to confront Christina. Dirt streaked his sweaty forehead and angular cheeks.

He didn't look very commanding now. No, he was a jackal to be sure. The sneer on his face reminded Christina of an angry animal baring his teeth. The look sickened her, and she thought she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd started growling.

Christina faced her father alone. She stood a good twenty feet away from him. She had his full attention, of course, and when she thought he was just about to spring forward, she lifted the box and took out a handful of the fake gems. She casually tossed some of the jewels into the air. "Are these what you're looking for, Father?"

Baron Stalinsky slowly came to his feet. His eyes darted to the left and then to the right. She decided to answer his unspoken thought. " Lyon? I believe my father is looking for you."

Lyon walked over to stand next to Christina. He took the box from her, then motioned her to move away. Christina backed up several paces immediately.

"This fight is between the two of us, Baron."

"Fight? I'm an old man, Lyon. The odds wouldn't be fair. Besides, I have no quarrel with you or my daughter. Those jewels belong to me," he added with a wave of his hand toward the box. "Jessica stole them. In court I'll be able to prove they're mine."

Lyon didn't take his gaze off the Baron. "There isn't going to be a day in an English court, Baron. In fact, as soon as you've answered a single question for Christina and a few more for me, you can be on your way. It's going to be simple for you. I won't have my wife involved in a scandal," he lied.

"Scandal? I don't know what you're talking about," the Baron replied. His voice reeked with authority.

"The murder trial would be upsetting for Christina. I won't have her humiliated." Lyon paused in his explanation to throw a bright red ruby over his shoulder. "It will take you days to find all of these. I'll toss the rest into the creek behind the bluff, Baron, if you don't agree to answer my questions. The current's swift."

"No!" the Baron shouted. "Don't you realize what they're worth? You're holding a fortune in your hands!" His voice had turned coaxing, eager.

Lyon noticed that the Baron's right hand was slowly moving to his back. Reacting with incredible speed, he drew a pistol from his waistcoat, took aim, and fired just as Stalinsky was bringing the hidden pistol around to the front.

The shot lodged in the Baron's hand. His pistol fell to the ground. Lyon threw the box on the ground, retrieved Christina's knife from his boot, and had the Baron by his throat before he'd finished his first howl of pain.

"Christina wants you to speak the truth. She knows Jessica wasn't crazy and wants to hear you say it." Lyon increased his pressure around the Baron's neck as he threatened, then suddenly threw the Baron backwards. He stood over his prey and waited for him to look up. "After you've answered my questions you can pick up your precious gems and leave. You've booked passage for the West Indies, but I've convinced the captain to leave today. He's waiting for you and the next tide, Baron."

The Baron's eyes narrowed. He stared at the box for a long minute, then turned to Lyon. The tip of his tongue ran over his lower lip. "I don't have to answer your questions. Everyone knows Jessica was out of her mind. When I go to the authorities-"

" Lyon," Christina called out "I don't think he quite grasps the situation."

"Then let me make it simple for him," Lyon said. "Baron, if you don't tell me what I want to know, you won't be going anywhere. I'll slit your throat. A fitting end, wouldn't you agree, after all the throats you've cut?"

"What are you talking about?" the Baron asked, feigning confusion. He clasped his injured hand to his chest.

"Come now, Baron. You know what I'm talking about," Lyon answered. "You've gotten away with your murders all these years. Haven't you ever wanted to boast of your skill? You couldn't, of course, until now. Is your ego so inflated you haven't any need to admit something you know you'll never be hanged for?"

Stalinsky pretended to struggle to his feet. Lyon saw him reach into his boot and extract a small pistol of the sort a woman would carry. He lunged at Lyon as he pulled the pistol forward. Lyon kicked the weapon out of his hand, then lashed out again with the side of his boot to hit the Baron's injured hand.

The screech of pain echoed throughout the countryside. "This is your last chance, Baron. My patience has run out." He flipped the knife from one hand to the other. "Was Jessica crazy?"

"Christina," the Baron shouted. "How can you let him terrorize me this way? I'm your father, for God's sake. Have you no mercy? Do you really want him to slit my throat?"

"No, Father," Christina denied. "I don't want him to slit your throat. I'd rather he cut your heart out, but Lyon does have his preferences, and I must let him have his way."

The Baron glared at his daughter. He stood up. A gleam appeared in his eyes, and he actually started to laugh. "No, Jessica wasn't crazy." He laughed again, a grating sound that chilled Christina. "But it's too late to do anything now, Lyon."

"Terrance MacFinley would have recognized that it was you sneaking around the wagon train. Isn't that right?" Lyon challenged.

"Your deductions are most amazing," the Baron said with a chuckle. "Yes, Terrance would have noticed me."

Lyon pushed the box towards Stalinsky with the tip of his boot. "One last question and then you may leave. Were you behind the Brisbane murders?"

The Baron's eyes widened. "How did you-"

"You outsmarted our War Department, didn't you?" Lyon asked, trying to sound impressed and not sickened. He was deliberately playing upon the Baron's vanity, hoping the bastard would feel safe enough to admit the truth.

"I did outsmart them, didn't I? I lived off the money Brisbane had received for the secrets he'd sold, too. Oh, yes, Lyon, I was smarter than all of them."

"Was Porter involved in your scheme, or did you act alone?" Lyon asked.

"Porter? He was as stupid as the rest of them. I always acted alone, Lyon. It's the reason I've survived these many years, the reason I've been such a wealthy man."

Lyon didn't think he could stand to look at the man much longer. He motioned to the box, the backed up several paces. "Pick it up and get out of here. If I ever see you again, I'll kill you."

The baron scurried over to the box. He flipped it open, barely glanced at the contents, then slammed it shut with a snort of pleasure.

"Are you finished, Lyon?"

Richards, surrounded by his men, strolled out from their hiding places.

"Did you hear?"

"All of it," Richards announced. He touched Lyon 's shoulder before walking over to the Baron.

"Damn your…" the Baron shouted. He stopped himself, then glared at Lyon. "I'll make certain your wife's humiliation is complete. I promise I'll say things in court about her mother that will-"

"Close your mouth," Richards bellowed. "We're taking you to the harbor, Baron. In fact, Benson and I shall be your travel companions on your trip back to your homeland. I believe you'll get a nice reception. The new government will undoubtedly be happy to let you stand trial."

Lyon didn't stay to listen to the Baron's demands to be given a trial in England. He took hold of Christina's hand without saying a word and started walking toward their mounts.

Richards was right. They were using the back door to gain justice. Baron Stalinsky would be returned to his homeland, where he would be judged by his former subjects. It would mean a death sentence. And if, by some chance, the new government proved to be just as corrupt, then Richards and Benson were prepared to take care of the Baron.

By the time he and Christina returned to their London townhouse, she was looking terribly pale.

He ignored her protests and carried her up to their bedroom. "You're going back to bed now," he told her as he helped her get out of her clothes.

"I will be better now," Christina told him. "It is finished."

"Yes, love. It is finished."

"I never believed Jessica was crazy," Christina told Lyon. She put on her silk robe, then wrapped her arms around her husband's waist. "I never believed that."

The sadness in her voice pulled at his heart. "I know you didn't," Lyon soothed. "Jessica can rest in peace now."

"Yes. In peace. I like to believe that her soul lingers with the Dakotas now. Maybe she waits for Merry to come and join her."

"I don't think Black Wolf would care for that hope of yours," Lyon said.

"Oh, he would join them, too, of course," Christina replied.

She sighed into his jacket, then kissed him on the base of his throat. "It's his destiny to meet Jessica in the Afterlife," she announced.

"Yes, destiny," Lyon said. "Now it's your destiny to quit being sick every morning and night, my love. You've kept your promise to your mother. The treasure is being returned to the rightful owners. Richards is going to see to the sale of the gems and the distribution of the money. We're going home to Lyonwood, and you'll get fat and sassy. I command it."

Christina really did try to comply with her husband's commands. The sickness eventually left her. She gained weight, too-so much, in fact, that she thought she waddled like a duck. She wasn't very sassy, however, for she spent most of her confinement trying to soothe her husband's worries.

She denied being with child until it became ludicrous. Poor Lyon was terrified of the birthing. Christina understood his fear. He'd watched Lettie go through terrible pain. She'd died a horrible death, with the babe trapped inside her.

Christina used denial and then reason. She told Lyon she was strong, that it was a very natural condition for a woman to be in, and that she was Dakota in her heart and knew exactly what to do to make the birthing easier. Dakota women rarely died in childbirth.

Lyon had a rebuttal for each of her arguments. He told her she was too small for such a mighty task, that it wasn't at all natural for such a gentle woman to have to go through such terrible agony, and that she was English, not Dakota, where it most counted-in her womb, for God's sake, not her heart.

Ironically, it was Lyon 's mother who softened Lyon 's fears somewhat. The elderly woman was slowly returning to her family. She reminded her son that she was just as small in stature as Christina was, and that she had given her husband three fine babies without making a single whimper.

Christina was thankful for her mother-in-law's help. She didn't have to threaten to drag her new confidante outside into the forest to choose a burial site any longer. Lyon 's mother finally admitted she wasn't quite ready to die yet. The woman still liked to talk about James, but she interlaced her remarks with stories about Lyon and Diana, too.

Deavenrue came to visit Christina. He stayed a month's time, then left with six fine horses Lyon had chosen as gifts for the Dakotas. Three men eager for the adventure went along to help Deavenrue.

The missionary helped to ease Lyon 's mind about Christina, but once he'd left, Lyon was back to scowling and snapping at everyone.

Baron Winters, the family's physician, moved into their house two weeks before Christina went into labor. She had no intention of letting the physician help her, of course, yet she had the good sense to keep that determination to herself. His presence calmed Lyon, and Christina was thankful for that.

The pains began after dinner, then continued into the night. Christina didn't wake her husband until the last possible minute. Lyon had time only to wake up and do as Christina instructed. He was holding his infant son in his arms minutes later.

Christina was too exhausted to weep, so Lyon wept for both of them while their magnificent little warrior bellowed his indignation.

He wanted to name his son Alexander Daniel.

She was having none of that. She wanted to name him Screaming Black Eagle.

Lyon was having none of that.

In the end, they compromised. The future Marquess of Lyonwood was christened Dakota Alexander.