Crown's Spies Series - book 1 - The Lion's Lady by Julie Garwood

[Dalyia]

"Are you ready* Christina?"
The question was issued by Aunt Patricia. The old woman came to Christina's side and grabbed hold of her arm in a clawlike grip.
"As ready as I shall ever be*" Christina answered. She smiled at her guardian* then turned and walked into the throng of strangers.
Lyon watched her intently. He noticed how protective the princess appeared to be toward the wrinkle-faced woman clinging to her arm; noticed* too* how very correct the beautiful woman was in all her actions. Why* it was almost like a routine of some sort* Lyon thought. The Princess greeted each new introduction with a practiced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Next followed a brief conversation* and last* a brisk* efficient dismissal.
Lyon couldn't help but be impressed. The lady was good* all right. No wonder Brummel was so taken with her. The Princess followed all the rules of proper behavior. But Rhone was wrong. She wasn't all that different. No* she appeared to be just as rigid* just as polished* and certainly just as superficial as all the other ladies of the ton. Brummel embraced superficiality with a passion. Lyon detested it.
He wasn't disappointed by his conclusions about the Princess. The opposite was true for he'd felt off balance from the moment he'd first looked at the woman. Now his equilibrium was returning full force. He actually smiled with relief. Then he saw Rhone elbow his way through the crush of guests to get to the Princess. Lyon would have wagered his numerous estates that the woman would pay Rhone far more attention than the other men. Everyone in London knew of Rhone's family* and though he wasn't the most titled gentleman at the party* he was certainly one of the wealthiest.
Lyon would have lost his bet. Rhone didn't fare any better than all the others. A spark of perverse satisfaction forced a reluctant grin onto Lyon's face.
"You're losing your touch*" Lyon remarked when Rhone returned to his side.
"What do you mean?" Rhone asked* pretending bewilderment.
Lyon wasn't buying it for a minute. He could see the faint blush on Rhone's face.
He really was starting to enjoy himself* Lyon realized. He decided then to rub salt in Rhone's wounds like any good friend would. "Was it my imagination* or did Princess Christina give you the same treatment she's given every other man in the room? She really didn't seem too impressed with your charms* old boy."
"You won't do any better*" Rhone pronounced. "She really is a mystery. I specifically remember asking her several pertinent questions* yet when I walked away—"
"You mean when she walked away* don't you?"
Rhone gave Lyon a good frown* then shrugged. "Well* yes* when she walked away I realized I hadn't gotten a single answer out of her. At least I don't think I did."
"You were too interested in her appearance*" Lyon answered. "A pretty face always did ruin your concentration."
"Oh?" Rhone said* drawing out the sound. "Well* old boy* let's see how many answers you gain. I'll put a bottle of my finest brandy up against one of yours."
"You're on*" Lyon announced. He glanced around the room and found Princess Christina immediately. He had the advantage of being taller than everyone else in the room* and the object of his quest was the only blond-haired woman there.
She was standing next to his father's old friend* Sir Reynolds. Lyon was happy to see that Christina's dour-looking guardian had taken a chair across the room.
When Lyon was finally able to catch Sir Reynolds's attention* he motioned with an arrogant tilt of his head for an immediate introduction.
Sir Reynolds nodded—a little too enthusiastically for Lyon's liking—then leaned down and whispered to the Princess. Christina's back faced Lyon* but he saw her give an almost imperceptible nod. Long minutes elapsed before the heavyset woman speaking to the Princess paused for air. Sir Reynolds seized the opportunity to say goodbye. Lyon concluded his hasty explanation must have included his name* because the woman gave him a frightened look* picked up her skirts* and went scurrying in the opposite direction. She moved like a fat mouse with a cat on her tail.
Lyon's smile widened. His boast to Rhone hadn't been in vain. He really hadn't lost his touch.
He dismissed the silly woman from his mind when Princess Christina came to stand directly in front of him. Sir Reynolds hovered at her side like a nervous guardian angel. Lyon slowly pulled himself away from his lazy repose* patiently waiting for her to execute the perfect little curtsy he'd seen her give everyone else.
Her head was bowed* but even so he could tell she wasn't quite flawless after all. He could see the sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The marks made her look less like a porcelain doll and far more touchable.
The woman barely reached his shoulders. She was too delicate-looking and much too thin for his liking* he decided. Then she looked up at him. Her gaze was direct* unwavering* captivating.
Lyon couldn't remember his own name.
He knew he'd eventually thank God for Sir Reynolds's intervention. He could hear the man's voice drone on and on as he listed Lyon's numerous titles. The long list gave Lyon time to recover.
He'd never been this rattled. It was her innocent gaze that held him so spellbound. Her eyes* too* he grudgingly admitted. They were unlike any shade of blue he'd ever seen.
He knew he had to get hold of himself. Lyon deliberately dropped his own gaze* settled on her mouth* and realized his mistake at once. He could feel himself reacting physically again.
Sir Reynolds finally ended his litany by stating* "I believe* my dear* you've already been introduced to the Earl of Rhone."
"Yes*" Rhone interjected* smiling at Christina.
"Lyon* may I present Princess Christina to you?" Sir Reynolds said* sounding terribly formal.
Her eyes gave her away. Something said during the introduction had unsettled her. She quickly recovered* though* and Lyon knew that if he hadn't been watching her so closely* he would have missed the surprise in her gaze.
"I'm honored to meet you* sir*" Christina whispered.
Her voice appealed to him. It was soft* sensual. The unusual accent was noticeable* too. Lyon had traveled extensively* yet couldn't put his finger on the origin. That intrigued him almost as much as his senseless urge to grab hold of her* drag her off into the night* and seduce her.
Thank God she couldn't know what was going on inside his mind. She'd go screaming for a safe haven then* no doubt. Lyon didn't want to frighten her* though. Not just yet.
"Rhone has been Lyon's friend for many years*" Sir Reynolds interjected into the awkward silence.
"I'm his only friend*" Rhone commented with a grin.
Lyon felt Rhone nudge him. "Isn't that true?"
He ignored the question. "And are you a Princess?" he asked Christina.
"It would seem to many that I am*" she replied.
She hadn't quite answered his question* Lyon realized. Rhone coughed—a ruse to cover his amusement* Lyon supposed with a frown.
Christina turned to Rhone. "Are you enjoying yourself this evening?"
"Immensely*" Rhone announced. He looked at Lyon and said* "Your questions?"
"Questions?" Christina asked* frowning now.
"I was just wondering where you call home*" Lyon said.
"With my Aunt Patricia*" Christina replied.
"Lyon* surely you remember Lord Alfred Cummings*" Sir Reynolds interjected with a great show of enthusiasm. "He was an acquaintance of your father's."
"I do recall the name*" Lyon answered. He tried yet couldn't seem to take his gaze away from Christina long enough to spare a glance for Reynolds. It was probably rude* Lyon thought* even as he realized he wasn't going to do anything about it.
"Well* now*" Sir Reynolds continued* "Alfred was appointed to the colonies years back. He died in Boston* God rest his soul* just two or three years ago* and the Countess returned home to England with her lovely niece."
"Ah* then you've been in England two years?" Lyon asked.
"No."
It took Lyon a full minute before he realized she wasn't going to expound upon her abrupt answer. "Then you were raised in the colonies." It was a statement* not a question* and Lyon was already nodding.
"No."
"Were you born there?"
"No*" Christina answered* staring up at him with a hint of a smile on her face.
"But you lived in Boston?"
"Yes."
"Yes?"
He really hadn't meant to raise his voice* but Princess Christina was proving to be extremely exasperating. Rhone's choked laughter wasn't helping matters much either.
Lyon immediately regretted letting her see his irritation* certain she'd try to bolt at the first opportunity. He knew how intimidating he could be.
"Sir* are you displeased with me because I wasn't born in the colonies?" Christina suddenly asked. "Your frown does suggest as much."
He heard the amusement in her voice. There was a definite sparkle in her eyes* too. It was apparent she wasn't the least bit intimidated. If he hadn't known better* he would have thought she was actually laughing at him.
"Of course I'm not displeased*" Lyon announced. "But are you going to answer all my questions with a yes or no?" he inquired.
"It would seem so*" Christina said. She gave him a genuine smile and waited for his reaction.
Lyon's irritation vanished. Her bluntness was refreshing* her smile captivating. He didn't try to contain his laughter.
The booming sound ricocheted around the room* drawing startled expressions from some of the guests.
"When you laugh* sir* you sound like a lion*" Christina said.
Her comment nudged him off center. It was such an odd remark to make. "And have you heard the roar of lions* Christina?" he asked* dropping her formal title.
"Oh* many times*" Christina answered before she thought better of it.
She actually sounded like she meant what she said. That* of course* didn't make any sense at all. "Where would you have heard such a sound?"
The smile abruptly left her face. She'd inadvertently been drawn into revealing more than caution dictated.

[Dalyia]

Lyon waited for her to answer him. Christina gave him a wary look* then turned to Sir Reynolds. She bid him goodnight* explaining that she and her aunt had promised to make an appearance at another function before quitting the evening. She turned back to Lyon and Rhone and dismissed them both with cool efficiency worthy of a queen.
Lyon wasn't a man used to being dismissed.
Princess Christina was gone before he could mention that fact to her.
She knew she had to get away from him. She could feel her composure faltering. Her guardian was seated in a chair against the wall. Christina forced herself to walk with a dignified stride until she reached her aunt's side.
"I believe we should prepare to leave now*" she whispered.
The Countess had lived with her niece long enough to know something was amiss. Her advanced years hadn't affected her keen mind or her physical shape. She all but bounded out of her chair* anchored herself to Christina's arm* and headed for the door.
Lyon stood with Rhone and Sir Reynolds. All three men watched Christina and her aunt make a hasty farewell to their host. "I'll be over tomorrow to get that bottle of brandy*" Rhone announced with a nudge to get Lyon's attention.
"Rhone* if you jam your elbow into my ribs one more time* I swear I'll break it*" Lyon muttered.
Rhone didn't look worried by the threat. He whacked his friend on the shoulder. "I believe I shall go and guard your sister for you* Lyon. You don't seem capable of the task."
As soon as Rhone left his side* Lyon turned to Sir Reynolds. "What do you know about Patricia Cummings?" he asked. "The truth* if you please* and no fancy fencing."
"You insult me* Lyon*" Sir Reynolds announced* grinning a contradiction to his comment.
"You're known for your diplomacy*" Lyon answered. "Now* about Christina's guardian. What can you tell me about her? Surely you knew her when you were younger."
"Of course*" Reynolds said. "We were always invited to the same functions. I know my comments won't go any further* so I'll give the black truth to you* Lyon. The woman's evil. I didn't like her back then* and I don't like her now. Her beauty used to make up for her… attitude*" he said. "She married Alfred when his older brother took ill. She believed he'd die at any moment. Patricia was like a vulture* waiting to inherit the estates. Alfred's brother outfoxed her* though. Lived a good ten years beyond everyone's expectations. Alfred was forced to take an appointment to the colonies* else be packed off to debtor's prison."
"What about Patricia's father? Didn't he attempt to settle his son-in-law's debts? I would have thought the embarrassment would have swayed him* unless* of course* he didn't have enough money."
"Oh* he was plenty rich enough*" Sir Reynolds announced. "But he'd already washed his hands of his daughter."
"Because she married Alfred* perchance?"
"No* that isn't how the rumor goes*" Reynolds said* shaking his head. "Patricia was always an abrasive* greedy woman. She was responsible for many cruelties. One of her little jests ended in tragedy. The young lady made the butt of her joke killed herself. I don't wish to go into further detail* Lyon* but let it suffice to say she doesn't appear to have changed her colors over the years. Did you notice the way she watched her niece? Gave me the shudders."
Lyon was surprised by the vehemence in Sir Reynolds's voice. His father's old friend was known for his calm* easygoing disposition. Yet now he was literally shaking with anger. "Were you the victim of one of her cruelties?" he asked.
"I was*" Reynolds admitted. "The niece seems to be such a gentle* vulnerable little flower. She wasn't raised by her aunt. I'm sure of it. I pity the poor child* though. She's going to have a time of it trying to please the old bitch. The Countess will no doubt sell her to the highest bidder."
"I've never heard you speak in such a manner*" Lyon said* matching Reynolds's whisper. "One last question* sir* for I can tell this conversation distresses you."
Sir Reynolds nodded.
"You said the Countess's father was a rich man. Who gained his estates?"
"No one knows. The father settled his affections on the younger daughter. Her name was Jessica."
"Jessica was Christina's mother?"
"Yes."
"And was she as demented as everyone believes?"
"I don't know* Lyon. I met Jessica several times. She seemed to be the opposite of her sister. She was sweet-tempered* shy—terribly shy. When she married* her father was extremely pleased. He strutted around like a rooster. His daughter* you see* had captured a king. I can still remember the glorious balls held in their honor. The opulence was staggering. Something blackened* though. No one really knows what happened." The elderly man let out a long sigh. "A mystery* Lyon* that will never be solved* I imagine."
Though he'd promised to curtail his questions* Lyon was too curious to drop the topic just yet "Did you know Christina's father then? A king* you say* yet I've never heard of him."
"I met him* but I never really got to know him well. His name was Edward*" Reynolds remembered with a nod.
"Don't recall his last name. I liked him. Everyone did. He was most considerate. And he didn't hold with pomp. Instead of lording it over us* he insisted everyone call him baron instead of king. He'd lost his kingdom* you see."
Lyon nodded. "It's a riddle* isn't it?" he remarked. "This Jessica does intrigue me."
"Why is that?"
"She married a king and then ran away from him."
"Jessica's reasons went to the grave with her*" Sir Reynolds said. "I believe she died shortly after Christina was born. No one knows more than what I've just related to you* Lyon. And after your rather one-sided conversation with the lovely Princess* it would seem evident to me she's going to keep her secrets."
"Only if I allow it*" Lyon said* grinning over the arrogance in his remark.
"Ah* then you have taken an interest in the Princess?" Sir Reynolds asked.
"Mild curiosity*" Lyon answered with a deliberate shrug.
"Is that the truth* Lyon* or are you giving me fancy fencing now?"
"It is the truth."
"I see*" Reynolds said* smiling enough to make Lyon think he didn't really see at all.
"Do you happen to know where Christina and her guardian were going when they left here? I heard Christina tell you they had one more stop to make before finishing the evening."
"Lord Baker's house*" Reynolds said. "Do you plan to drop in?" he asked* his voice bland.
"Reynolds* don't make more out of this than it really is*" Lyon said. "I merely wish to find out more about the Princess. By morning my curiosity will be appeased."
The briskness in Lyon's voice suggested to Reynolds that he stop his questions. "I haven't greeted your sister yet. I believe I'll go and say hello to her."
"You'll have to be quick about it*" Lyon announced. "Diana and I are going to be leaving in just a few minutes."
Lyon followed Reynolds over to the crush of guests. He allowed Diana several minutes to visit and then announced it was time to leave.
Diana's disappointment was obvious. "Don't look so sad*" Sir Reynolds said. "I believe you aren't going home just yet." Sir Reynolds started chuckling.
Lyon wasn't the least amused. "Yes* well* Diana* I had thought to stop by Baker's place before taking you home."
"But Lyon* you declined that invitation*" Diana argued. "You said he was such a bore."
"I've changed my mind."
"He isn't a bore?" Diana asked* looking completely bewildered.
"For God's sake* Diana*" Lyon muttered* giving Reynolds a glance.
The harshness in Lyon's voice startled Diana. Her worried frown said as much.
"Come on* Diana. We don't want to be late*" Lyon advised* softening his tone.
"Late? Lyon* Lord Baker doesn't even know we're going to attend his party. How can we be late?"
When her brother merely shrugged* Diana turned to Sir Reynolds. "Do you know what has come over my brother?" she asked.
"An attack of mild curiosity* my dear*" Sir Reynolds answered. He turned to Lyon and said* "If you'll forgive an old man's interference* I would like to suggest that your sister stay here for a bit longer. I would be honored to see her home."
"Oh* yes* Lyon* please* may I stay?" Diana asked.
She sounded like an eager little girl. Lyon wouldn't have been surprised if she started clapping her hands. "Do you have a particular reason to stay?" he asked.
When his sister started blushing* Lyon had his answer. "What is this man's name?" he demanded.
"Lyon*" Diana whispered* looking mortified. "Don't embarrass me in front of Sir Reynolds*" she admonished.
Lyon sighed in exasperation. His sister had just repeated his opinion that Baker was a bore* and now she had the audacity to tell him he was embarrassing her. He gave her a good frown. "We're going to discuss this later* then*" he announced. "Thank you* Reynolds* for keeping a close watch on Diana."
"Lyon* I don't need a keeper*" Diana protested.
"You've yet to prove that*" Lyon said before he nodded farewell to Sir Reynolds and left the room.
He was suddenly most eager to get to the bore's house.

[Dalyia]

Chapter Three
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We stayed in England longer than Edward really wished so that my father could join in my birthday celebration. Edward was so very thoughtful of my dear papa's feelings.
The day after I turned seventeen* we sailed for my husband's home. I wept* yet remember thinking I was being terribly selfish. I knew I was going to miss my father. My duty was to follow my husband* of course.
After the tears were spent* I became excited about my future. You see* Christina* I thought Edward was taking me to Camelot.
Journal entry August 10* 1795
~
Christina was feeling ill. She felt close to suffocating and kept telling herself her panic would dissipate just as soon as the horrible carriage ride was over.
How she hated the closeness inside the wobbly vehicle. The curtains were drawn* the doors bolted* the air dense and thick with her Aunt Patricia's heavy perfume. Christina's hands were fisted at her sides* hidden from her aunt's view by the folds of her gown. Her shoulders were pressed against the padded brown leather backrest.
The Countess didn't realize her niece was having any difficulty. As soon as the door was closed* she started in with her questions* never once allowing her niece time to give answers. The aunt laced each question with sharp* biting remarks about the guests they'd just left at Lord Carlson's townhouse. The Countess seemed to derive great pleasure in defaming others. Her face would twist into a sinister look* her thin lips would pucker* and her eyes would turn as gray as frostbite.
Christina believed the eyes reflected the thoughts of the soul. The Countess certainly proved that truth. She was such an angry* bitter* self-serving woman. Foolish* too* Christina thought* for she didn't even try to hide her flaws from her niece. Such stupidity amazed Christina. To show weakness was to give another power. Aunt Patricia didn't seem to understand that primitive law* however. She actually liked to talk about all the injustices done to her. Constantly.
Christina no longer paid any attention to her guardian's contrary disposition. She'd adopted a protective attitude toward the woman* too. The Countess was family* and while that probably should have been reason enough* there was another motive as well. Her aunt reminded Christina of Laughing Brook* the crazed old squaw who used to chase after all the children with her whipping stick. Laughing Brook couldn't help the way she was* and neither could the Countess.
"Didn't you hear me* Christina?" The Countess snapped* drawing Christina from her thoughts. "I asked you what made you want to leave Carlson's party so suddenly."
"I met a man*" Christina said. "He wasn't at all like the others. They call him the Lion."
"You speak of the Marquess of Lyonwood*" Patricia said* nodding her head. "And he frightened you* is that it? Well* do not let it bother you. He frightens everyone* even me. He's a rude* impossible man* but then his position does allow for insolence* I suppose. The ugly scar on his forehead gives him a sinister look."
"Oh* no* he didn't frighten me*" Christina confessed. "Quite the contrary* Aunt. I was* of course* attracted to his mark* but when I heard Sir Reynolds call him Lion* I was immediately so homesick I could barely think what to say."
"How many times must I tell you those savages should mean nothing to you?" Patricia screeched. "After all I've sacrificed so that you can take your rightful place in society and claim my inheritance…"
The Countess caught her blunder. She gave her niece a piercing look to measure her reaction* then said* "You simply must not think about those people. The past must be forgotten."
"Why do they call him Lion?" Christina asked* smoothly changing the topic. She slowly moved her arm away from her aunt's painful grip. "I'm only curious*" she explained* "for you did say the English didn't name themselves after animals or—"
"No* of course not* you stupid chit*" Aunt Patricia muttered. "The Marquess isn't named after an animal. The spelling isn't the same." The Countess slowly spelled Lyon's name. Her voice lost some of its brittle edge when she continued* "It is in deference to his title that he's called Lyonwood. Closer friends are permitted to shorten the name* of course."
"He won't suit?" Christina asked* frowning.
"He most certainly will not*" the Countess answered. "He's too shrewd* too rich. You'll have to stay away from him. Is that understood?"
"Of course."
The Countess nodded. "Why you would be attracted to him is beyond my comprehension. He wouldn't be the least manageable."
"I wasn't truly attracted to him*" Christina answered. She lied* of course* but only because she didn't wish to goad her aunt into another burst of anger. And she really couldn't make her aunt understand anyway. How could she reason with a woman who believed a warrior's mark was a detraction? With that feeble mind-set* Christina's aunt would be appalled if she gave her the truth.
Oh* yes* the lion did appeal to her. The golden chips in his dark brown eyes pleased her. His powerful build was that of a warrior* and she was naturally drawn to his strength. There was an aura of authority surrounding him. He was aptly named* for he did remind her of a lion. Christina had noticed his lazy* almost bored attitude* yet she instinctively knew he could move with bold speed if given enough provocation.
Yes* he was attractive. Christina liked looking at him well enough.
But she loved his scent. And what would her aunt think of that admission* Christina wondered with a bit of a smile. Why* she'd probably install another chain on her bedroom door.
No* the Countess wouldn't understand her attraction. The old shaman from her village would understand* though. He'd be very pleased* too.
"We needn't worry that Lyon will show you the least interest*" Aunt Patricia announced. "The man only escorts paramours. His latest attraction* according to the whispers I overheard* is a woman called Lady Cecille." The Countess let out an inelegant snort before continuing* "Lady indeed. Whore is the real name for the bitch. She married a man twice and half her age and no doubt began her affairs before the wedding was over."
"Doesn't this woman's husband mind that she—"
"The old goat died*" her aunt said. "Not that long ago* I heard. Rumor has it Lady Cecille has her cap set for Lyon as her next husband."
"I don't think he'd marry a woman of ill repute*" Christina said* shaking her head for emphasis. "But if she is called Lady* then she must not be a paramour. Isn't that right?" she asked* frowning over the confusion in her mind.
"She's accepted by the ton because of her title. Many of the married women do have affairs. All the husbands certainly keep mistresses*" Aunt Patricia said. "The morals disgust me* but men will always follow their baser instincts* won't they?"
Her tone of voice didn't suggest she wanted Christina's opinion. "Yes* Aunt*" she answered with a sigh.
"Lyon is rarely seen in public these days*" the Countess continued. "Ever since his wife died he has set himself apart."
"Perhaps he still mourns his wife. He seemed vulnerable to me."
"Ha*" the aunt sneered. "Lyon has been called many things* but never was the word vulnerable put to his name. I can't imagine any man mourning over the loss of a wife. Why* they're all too busy chasing after their own pleasures to care about anyone else."
The carriage came to a halt in front of the Bakers' residence* forcing an end to the conversation. Christina was acutely relieved when the door to the carriage was finally opened by the footman. She took several deep breaths as she followed her aunt up the steps to the brick-faced townhouse.
A soft* sultry breeze cooled her face. Christina wished she could pull all the pins out of her hair and let the heavy curls down. Her aunt wouldn't allow her to leave it unbound* however. Fashion ordered either short* cropped curls or intricately designed coronets. Since Christina refused to cut her unruly hair* she was forced to put up with the torture of the pins.
"I trust this won't be too much for you*" the Countess sarcastically remarked before striking the door.
"I won't fail you*" Christina replied* knowing those were the only words her aunt wanted to hear. "You really mustn't worry. I'm strong enough to face anyone* even a lion."
Her jest didn't take. The Countess puckered her lips while she gave her niece a thorough once-over. "Yes* you are strong. It's obvious you haven't inherited any of your mother's odious traits. Thank God for that blessing. Jessica was such a spineless woman."
It was difficult* but Christina held her anger. She couldn't let her aunt know how the foul words about Jessica upset her. Though she'd lived with her aunt for over a year now* she still found it difficult to believe that one sister could be so disloyal to another. The Countess wasn't aware her sister had kept a journal. Christina wasn't going to tell her about the diary—not just yet* anyway—but she wondered what her aunt's reaction would be if she was confronted with the truth. It wouldn't make any difference* Christina decided then. Her aunt's mind was too twisted to accept any changes in her opinions.
The pretense was becoming unbearable. Christina wasn't gifted with a patient nature. Both Merry and Black Wolf had cautioned her to keep a firm hold on her temper. They'd warned her about the whites* too. Her parents knew she'd have to walk the path alone. Black Wolf feared for her safety. Merry feared for her heart. Yet both ignored her pleas to stay with them. There was a promise to be kept* no matter how many lives were lost* no matter how many hearts were broken.

[Dalyia]

And if she survived* she could go home.
Christina realized she was frowning. She immediately regained her smile just as the door was opened by Lord Baker's butler. The smile stayed firmly in place throughout the lengthy introductions. There were only twenty guests in attendance* most of them elderly* and Christina was given hardly a moment's respite from the seemingly contagious topic of current illnesses until the call for refreshments was given.
The Countess reluctantly left Christina's side when Lord Baker offered her his arm. Christina was able to discourage three well-meaning gentlemen from ushering her into the dining room by pretending an errand in the washroom above the stairs. When she returned to the first floor* she saw that the drawing room was empty of guests. The solitude proved irresistible. Christina glanced over her shoulder to make certain she wasn't being observed* then hurried to the opposite end of the long* narrow room. She'd noticed a balcony beyond a pair of French doors nestled inside an arched alcove. Christina only wanted to steal a few precious minutes of blissful quiet before someone came looking for her.
Her hope was in vain. She'd just made it to the alcove when she suddenly felt someone watching her. Christina stiffened* confused by the feeling of danger that swept over her* then slowly turned around to face the threat.
The Marquess of Lyonwood was standing there* lounging against the entrance* staring at her.
The lion was stalking her. She shook her head* denying her own fanciful notions* yet took an instinctive step back at the same time. The scent of danger was still there* permeating the air* making her wary* confused.
Lyon watched her for a good long while. His expression was intense* almost brooding. Christina felt trapped by his dark gaze. When he suddenly straightened away from the wall and started toward her* she took another cautious step back.
He moved like a predator. He didn't stop when he reached her but forced her with his measured steps to back up through the archway and into the night.
"What are you doing* sir?" Christina whispered* trying to sound appalled and not too worried. "This isn't at all proper* is it?"
"No."
"Why* you've forgotten to make your presence known to our host*" Christina stammered. "Did you forget your duty?"
"No."
She tried then to walk around him. Lyon wouldn't let her escape. His big hands settled on her shoulders* and he continued his determined pace. "I know you didn't speak to Lord Baker*" Christina said. "Did you?"
"No."
"Oh*" Christina replied* sounding quite breathless. "It is a rudeness* that."
"Yes."
"I really must go back inside now* my lord*" she said. She was growing alarmed by his abrupt answers. His nearness was driving her to distraction* too. He'd confuse her if she let him* she told herself. Then she'd forget all her training.
"Will you unhand me* sir?" she demanded.
"No."
Christina suddenly understood what he was doing. Though she tried* she couldn't contain her smile. "You're trying to be as abrupt as I was with you* aren't you* Lyon?"
"I am being abrupt*" he replied. "Do you like having all your questions answered with a simple yes or no?"
"It is efficient*" Christina said* staring intently at his chest.
She'd mispronounced the word "efficient." Her accent had become more noticeable* too. Lyon assumed she was frightened* for he'd also caught the worry in her voice. He slowly forced her chin up* demanding without words that she look at him. "Don't be afraid of me* Christina*" he whispered.
She didn't answer him. Lyon stared into her eyes a long minute before the truth settled in his mind. "I don't worry you at all* do I?" he asked.
She thought he sounded disappointed. "No*" she admitted with a smile. She tried to shrug his hand away from her chin* and when he wouldn't let go of her she took another step back* only to find a weak railing blocking her.
She was good and trapped* and Lyon smiled over it. "Will you please let me go back inside?" she asked.
"First we're going to have a normal conversation*" Lyon announced. "This is how it works* Christina. I'll ask you questions* and you may ask me questions. Neither of us will give abrupt one-word answers."
"Why?"
"So that we may get to know each other better*" Lyon said.
He looked determined enough to stay on Lord Baker's balcony for the rest of the night if he needed to. Christina decided she had to gain the upper hand as soon as possible.
"Are you angry because I'm not afraid of you?" she asked.
"No*" Lyon answered* giving her a lazy grin. "I'm not angry at all."
"Oh* yes you are*" Christina said. "I can feel the anger inside you. And your strength. I think you might be just as strong as a lion."
He shook his head. "You say the oddest things*" he remarked. He couldn't seem to stop touching her. His thumb slowly brushed her full lower lip. Her softness fascinated him* beckoned him.
"I don't mean to say odd things*" Christina said* frowning now. "It is very difficult to banter with you." She turned her face away from him and whispered* "My Aunt Patricia doesn't want me in your company* Lyon. If she realizes I'm outside with you* she'll be most displeased."
Lyon raised an eyebrow over that announcement. "She's going to have to be displeased then* isn't she?"
"She says you're too shrewd*" Christina told him.
"And that is a fault?" Lyon asked* frowning.
"Too wealthy* too*" Christina added* nodding her head when he gave her an incredulous look.
"What's wrong with being wealthy?" Lyon asked.
"You wouldn't be manageable." Christina quoted her aunt's opinion.
"Damn right."
"See* you agree with my Aunt Patricia after all*" Christina returned. "You aren't like the others* are you* Lyon?"
"What others?"
Christina decided to ignore that question. "I'm not a paramour* sir. Aunt tells me you're only interested in loose women."
"You believe her?" he asked. His hands caressed her shoulders again* and he was starting to have difficulty remembering what they were talking about. He could feel the heat of her through her gown. It was a wonderful distraction.
How he wanted to taste her! She was boldly staring up into his eyes now* with such an innocent look on her face* too. She was trying to make a mockery out of all his beliefs about women* Lyon decided. He* of course* knew better. Yet she intrigued him enough to play the game for just a little longer. There wasn't any harm in that* he told himself.
"No*" Christina said* interrupting his thoughts.
"No* what?" Lyon asked* trying to remember what he'd said to her.
"No* I don't believe my aunt was correct. You're obviously attracted to me* Lyon* and I'm not a loose woman."
Lyon laughed softly. The sound was like a caress. Christina could feel her pulse quicken. She understood the danger now. Lyon's appeal could break through all her barriers. She knew* with a certainty that chilled her* he would be able to cut through her pretense. "I really must go back inside now*" she blurted out.
"Do you know how much you confuse me?" Lyon asked* ignoring her demand to leave him. "You're very good at your craft* Christina."
"I don't understand."
"Oh* I think you do*" Lyon drawled out. "I don't know how you've done it* but you've got me acting like a schoolboy. You've such a mysterious air about you. Deliberate* isn't it? Do you think I'll be less interested in you if I know more about you?"
Less interested? Christina felt like laughing. Why* the man would be appalled if he knew the truth. Yes* her aunt was right after all. The Marquess of Lyonwood was entirely too cunning to fool for long.
"Don't look so worried* my sweet*" Lyon whispered.
She could see the amusement in his eyes. "Don't call me that*" she said. Her voice shook* but it was only because of the strain of the pretense. "It isn't a proper law*" she added* nodding vigorously.
"Proper law?" Lyon didn't know what she was talking about. His frustration turned to irritation. He forced himself to take a deep* calming breath. "Let's start over* Christina. I'll ask you a simple question* and you may give me a direct answer*" he announced. "First* however* kindly explain what you mean when you say calling you sweet isn't a proper law."
"You remind me of someone from my past* Lyon. And I'm too homesick to continue this discussion." Her confession came out in a sad* forlorn whisper.
"You were in love with another man?" Lyon asked* unable to keep the anger out of his voice.
"No."
He waited* and when she didn't expound on her answer he let out a long sigh. "Oh* no* you don't*" he said. "You will explain*" he added* tightening his grip on her shoulders. "Christina* I've known you less than two hours* and you've got me tied in knots already. It isn't an easy admission to make*" he added. "Can we not stay on one topic?"
"I don't think we can*" Christina answered. "When I'm near you* I forget all the laws."
Lyon thought she sounded as bewildered as he felt. They'd circled back to her laws again* too. She wasn't making any sense. "I'll win* you know*" he told her. "I always do. You can push me off center as many times as you like* but I'll always…"
He'd lost his train of thought when Christina suddenly reached up and trailed the tips of her fingers across the ragged line of his scar. The gentle touch sent shock waves all the way to his heart.

[Dalyia]

"You have the mark of a warrior* Lyon."
His hands dropped to his sides. He took a step back* thinking to put some distance between them so he could cool the fire rushing through his veins. From the innocent look in her eyes* he knew she didn't have any idea of the effect she was having on him.
It had happened so suddenly* so overwhelmingly. Lyon hadn't realized desire could explode so quickly.
Christina took advantage of the separation. She bowed her head and edged her way around him. "We must never touch each other again*" she said before turning her back on him and walking away.
She had reached the alcove when his voice stopped her. "And do you find warriors with scars unappealing?"
Christina turned* so swiftly her skirt swirled around her ankles. She looked astonished by his question.
"Unappealing? Surely you jest with me*" she said.
"I never jest*" Lyon answered. His voice sounded bored* but the look in his eyes told her of his vulnerability.
She knew she must reveal this one truth. "I find you almost too appealing to deny."
She couldn't quite look into his eyes when she made her confession* overcome by shyness because of her bold admission. She thought she might be blushing* too* and that thought irritated her enough to turn her back on Lyon once again.
He moved with the speed of a lion. One minute he was standing across the balcony* and the next he had her pinned against the brick wall adjacent to the alcove. His body kept her right where he wanted her. The lower half of Christina's body was trapped by his legs* and his hands were anchored on her shoulders. When he suddenly reached over to shut the doors* his thighs brushed intimately against hers. The touch unsettled both of them. Christina pushed herself up against the wall* trying to break the contact. Lyon's reaction was just the opposite. He leaned closer* wanting the touch again.
Lyon knew he was embarrassing her. He could see her blush* even in the soft moonlit night. "You're like a fragile little flower*" he whispered while his hands caressed her shoulders* her neck. "Your skin feels like hot silk."
Her blush deepened. Lyon smiled over it. "Open your eyes* Christina. Look at me*" he commanded in a voice as gentle as the breeze.
His tender words sent shivers down her arms. Love words* almost identical in meaning to the words Black Wolf always gave Merry when he thought they were alone. Lyon was trying to gentle her in much the same way. Did that mean he wanted to mate with her? Christina almost blurted out that question* then realized she shouldn't. Lyon was an Englishman* she reminded herself. The laws weren't the same.
Heaven help her* she mustn't forget. "I would never flirt with a lion*" she blurted. "It would be dangerous."
Lyon's hands circled her neck. He wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her or strangle her. The woman certainly did confuse him with her ridiculous comments. He could feel the frantic pulse of her heartbeat under his fingers. "Your eyes don't show any fear* but your heart tells the truth. Are you afraid of your attraction to me?"
"What an arrogant man you are*" Christina said. "Why* I'm so frightened I believe I might swoon if you don't unhand me this very minute."
Lyon laughed* letting her know he didn't believe her lie. He leaned down until his mouth was just a breath away from hers. "Didn't you tell me I was too irresistible to deny* Christina?"
"No*" she whispered. "I said you were almost too irresistible to deny* Lyon. Almost. There is a difference."
She tried to smile yet failed the task completely. Christina was simply too occupied fighting the nearly overwhelming urge to melt against him* to hold him tightly* to learn his touch* his taste. She wanted his scent to mate with her own.
She knew it was a forbidden* dangerous longing. It was one thing to tease a cub and quite another to play with a fully grown lion. The dark look in Lyon's eyes told her he'd be just as determined as a hungry lion* too. He'd consume her if she didn't protect herself.
"Lyon*" she whispered* torn between desire and the need for caution. "You really must help fight this attraction. I'll forget everything if you don't cooperate."
He didn't know what she was talking about. What did she think she'd forget? Perhaps he hadn't heard her correctly. Her accent had become so pronounced it was difficult to be certain. "I'm going to kiss you* Christina*" he said* catching hold of her chin when she started to shake her head.
"One kiss*" he promised. He nuzzled his chin against the top of her head* inhaled her sweet scent* and let out a soft* satisfied sigh. Then he took hold of her hands and slipped them around his neck.
God* she was soft. His hands slid down her arms* causing goosebumps he could feel. Pleased with her reaction to his touch* he settled his hands possessively on her hips and pulled her closer.
He was taking entirely too long getting on with it. Christina couldn't fight her attraction any longer. One small touch would certainly satisfy her curiosity. Then she'd go back inside and force herself to forget all about Lyon.
Christina leaned up on her tiptoes and quickly brushed her mouth against his chin. She placed a chaste kiss on his mouth next* felt him stiffen in reaction. Christina drew back* saw him smile* and knew her boldness had pleased him.
His smile abruptly faded when she traced his lower lip with the tip of her tongue. Lyon reacted as though he'd just been hit by lightning. He dragged her up against him until her thighs were flattened against his own. He didn't care if his arousal frightened her or not. His arms circled her in a determined grip that didn't allow any leverage. Christina wasn't going to bolt until he let her.
She suddenly tried to turn her head away* and the tremor he felt rush through her made him think she might be having second thoughts. "Lyon* please* we will—"
His mouth found her* effectively silencing her protests. He teased and tantalized* coaching her to open her mouth for him. Christina responded to his gentle prodding. Her fingers slid into his hair as a passionate tremor coursed through his body. Lyon groaned into her mouth* then thrust his tongue deeply inside* demanding with his husky growl that she mate with him.
Christina forgot caution. Her hands clung to Lyon's shoulders. Her hips moved instinctively until she was cuddling his heat with her own. A whimper of pleasure escaped her when Lyon began to move against her hips. Christina used her tongue to explore the wonderful textures of Lyon's warm mouth* mimicking him.
A fire raged in his loins. Lyon's mouth slanted over hers once again in a hot* wild kiss that held nothing back. Christina's uninhibited response was a blissful torment he wanted never to end. The way she kissed him made him think she wasn't innocent of men after all. Lyon told himself he didn't care. The desire to bed her at the first possible moment overrode all other considerations.
Lyon had never experienced such raw desire. Christina made a soft moan deep in her throat. The sound nearly drove him beyond common sense. He knew he was about to lose all control and abruptly ended the kiss. "This isn't the time or the place* love*" he told her in a ragged whisper.
He took a deep breath and tried desperately not to stare at her mouth. So soft* so exciting. She looked as though she'd just been thoroughly kissed* which of course she had* and Lyon could tell she was having as much difficulty regaining control as he was.
That fact pleased him immensely. He had to peel her hands away from his shoulders* too* for Christina didn't seem capable of doing more than staring up at him. Her eyes had turned a deep indigo blue. Passion's color* Lyon thought as he kissed her fingertips and then let go of her hands.
"I'm going to learn all of your secrets* Christina*" Lyon whispered* thinking of the pleasure they could give each other in bed.
His promise penetrated with the swiftness of a dagger. Christina believed he'd just promised to find out about her past. "Leave me alone* Lyon*" she whispered. She scooted around him* walked inside the archway* and then turned to look at him again. "Your curiosity could get you killed."
"Killed?"
She shook her head to let him know she wasn't going to expound upon that comment. "We satisfied each other by sharing one kiss. It was enough."
"Enough?"
His bellow followed her inside the drawing room. Christina grimaced at the anger she'd heard in his voice. Her heart was pounding* and she thanked the gods that the guests were still in the dining room. There was an empty chair next to her aunt. Christina immediately sat down and tried to concentrate on the boring conversation the Countess was having with their host and hostess.

[Dalyia]

Minutes later Lyon appeared in the entrance. Lord Baker was beside himself with excitement. It was obvious that he and everyone else in the dining room believed the Marquess of Lyonwood had only just arrived.
Christina acknowledged Lyon with a curt nod* then turned her back on him. The rude gesture delighted the Countess. The old woman actually reached out to pat Christina's hand. It was the first show of affection she'd ever given her niece.
Lyon ignored Christina just as thoroughly. He was* of course* the center of attention* for his title and his wealth set him above the others. The men immediately surrounded him. Most of the women also left their chairs. They stood together like a covey of quail* bobbing their heads and eyelashes in unison whenever Lyon happened to glance their way.
When Christina couldn't stand the disgusting display any longer* she returned to the drawing room.
Lyon was trapped by their eager host into a discussion about crop rotation. He listened rather than advised* using the time to regain control of his temper. Though nothing showed on his face* inside he was shaking with fury.
Hell* she'd dismissed him again. Twice in one evening. Had to be some sort of record in that feat* he told himself. She was good* too. Why* she'd made him believe she was as hot as he was. Quite a little temptress* he decided.
Lyon was feeling as though he'd just been tossed into a snowbank. Christina was right* too. She had satisfied his curiosity. The problem* he grudgingly admitted* was the taste of her. Hot* wild honey. He hadn't gotten enough. And while Lord Baker enthusiastically spoke about the merits of barley* Lyon heard again the soft whimpers Christina had given him. It was all surely an act on her part* but the memory still made his blood run heavy.
Christina's aunt had followed her into the drawing room. The Countess stayed right by her niece's side* making snide remarks about the ill-tasting food of which she'd just eaten a horrendously large portion. Christina thought she was safe enough until Lyon happened to walk into the room at the very moment the Countess left to go upstairs to the washroom to repair her appearance.
Christina was suddenly vulnerable again. Lyon was striding toward her* and though he smiled at the other guests* she could certainly see the anger in his eyes. She immediately hurried over to Lord Baker and spoke to him* warily watching Lyon out of the corner of her eye.
"You have such a lovely home*" Christina blurted out to the host.
"Thank you* my dear. It is comfortable for my needs*" Lord Baker stated* his chest puffing out with new importance. He began to explain where he'd picked up various pieces of art littering the shelves in the room. Christina tried to pay attention to what he was telling her. She noticed Lyon hesitate* and she smiled over it.
"My wife actually made most of the selections. She has a keen eye for quality*" Lord Baker commented.
"What?" Christina asked* puzzled by the way Lord Baker was staring at her. He did seem to expect some sort of answer. It was unfortunate* for she didn't have the faintest idea what they were talking about.
Lyon was getting closer. Christina blamed her lack of concentration solely on him* of course. She knew she'd make a fool of herself in front of her host if she didn't try to pay attention. She deliberately turned her back on Lyon and smiled again at her host. "Where did you find that lovely pink vase you've placed on your mantel?" she asked.
Lord Baker puffed up again. Christina thought he looked like a fat rabbit. "The most valuable piece in my collection*" he announced. "And the only one I picked out on my own. Cost more than all my wife's jewels put together*" he whispered with a nod. "Had to be firm with Martha* too. My wife declared it simply didn't work."
"Oh* I think it's very beautiful*" Christina said.
"Baker* I'd like to speak to Princess Christina for a moment. In privacy* if you wouldn't mind." Lyon spoke right behind her. Christina knew if she took a step back she'd touch his chest. The thought was so unsettling she couldn't seem to come up with a quick denial.
"Certainly*" Lord Baker announced. He gave Lyon a speculative look. Matching in his mind* Lyon decided. The rumor that he'd taken an interest in Christina would certainly be all over London by noon tomorrow. Odd* but that realization didn't bother Lyon too much. If it kept all the other dandies at bay* then perhaps the rumor would work to his advantage.
"Certainly not*" Christina suddenly blurted out. She smiled at Lord Baker to soften her denial while she prayed he'd come to her rescue.
It was an empty prayer. Lord Baker looked startled and confused until Lyon interjected in a smooth* lying voice* "Christina does have the most wonderful sense of humor. When you get to know her better* I'm sure you'll agree* Baker."
Their host was fooled by Lyon's chuckle. Christina wasn't. Lyon's unbreakable hold on her hand told her he wasn't really amused at all.
He was determined to win. Christina thought he'd probably cause a scene if she tried to deny his request again. The man didn't seem to care what others thought of him. It was a trait she couldn't help but admire.
Lyon didn't have to use pretense* she reminded herself. His title assured compliance. Why* he was as arrogant and as confident as the chief of the Dakotas.
Christina tried to disengage herself from his hold when she turned to confront him. Lyon was smiling at Lord Baker* yet increasing the pressure in his grip at the same time. He was telling her without words not to argue* she supposed. Then he turned and started to pull her with him.
She didn't struggle but straightened her shoulders and followed him. Everyone was staring at them* and for that reason she forced herself to smile and to act as though it was nothing at all to be dragged across the room by a man she'd only just met. When she heard one woman whisper in a loud voice that she and the Marquess made a striking couple* she lost her smile. Yes* she did feel like hitting Lyon* but it was certainly uncomplimentary of the woman to make such a remark. She knew Lyon had also heard the comment. His arrogant grin said as much. Did that mean he wanted to strike her?
Lyon stopped when they reached the alcove. Christina was so relieved he hadn't dragged her outside* she began to relax. They were still in full view of the other guests—a blessing* because Christina knew Lyon wouldn't try to kiss her senseless with an audience watching his every move. No* tender embraces and soft words belonged to moments of privacy* when a man and woman were alone.
After nodding to several gentlemen* Lyon turned back to Christina. He stood close enough to touch if she took just one step forward. Though he'd let go of her hand* his head was inclined toward hers. Christina deliberately kept her head bowed* refusing to look up into his eyes. She thought she probably appeared to be very humble and submissive. It was an appearance she wished to give her audience* yet it irritated her all the same.
Another lie* another pretense. How her brother* White Eagle* would laugh if he could see her now. He knew* as well as everyone else back home* that there wasn't a submissive bone in Christina's body.
Lyon seemed patient enough to stare at her all evening. Christina decided he wasn't going to speak to her until she gave him her full attention. She captured her tranquil smile and finally looked up at him.
He was angry with her* all right. The gold chips were missing. "Your eyes have turned as black as a Crow's*" she blurted out.
He didn't even blink over her bizarre comment. "Not this time* Christina*" he said in a furious whisper. "Compliments won't get me off balance again* my little temptress. I swear to God* if you ever again dismiss me so casually* I'm going to—"
"Oh* it wasn't a compliment*" Christina interrupted* letting him see her irritation. "How presumptuous of you to think that it was. The Crow is our enemy."
Heaven help her* she'd done it again. Lyon could so easily make her forget herself. Christina fought the urge to pick up her skirts and run for the front door. But she suddenly realized he couldn't possibly understand her comment. The confused look on his face told her she'd swayed his attention* too.

[Dalyia]

"Birds are your enemies?" he asked in a voice that sounded incredulous.
Christina smiled. "Whatever are you talking about?" she asked* feigning innocence. "Did you wish to speak to me about birds?"
"Christina." He'd growled her name. "You could make a saint lose his temper."
She thought he looked ready to pounce on her* so she took a protective step back and then said* "But you aren't a saint* are you* Lyon?"
A sudden shout drew Lyon's full attention. Christina also heard the sound* yet when she tried to turn around* Lyon grabbed hold of her and roughly pushed her behind his back. His strength amazed her. He'd moved so quickly Christina hadn't even guessed his intent until the deed was accomplished.
His broad shoulders blocked her view. Christina could tell by his rigid stance that there was danger. And if she hadn't known better* she would have thought he was trying to protect her.
She was highly curious. She hadn't sensed any threat* yet when she peeked out from Lyon's side she could see armed men standing in the entrance. Her eyes widened with surprise. The evening had certainly taken another bizarre twist. First she'd encountered a lion* and now it appeared that they were about to be robbed by bandits. Why* it was turning out to be an extremely interesting evening after all.
Christina wanted to get a better look at the mischief makers. Lyon* however* had other ideas. As soon as she moved to his side he pushed her behind him again.
He was protecting her. A warm feeling swept over Christina. She was pleased with his determination and actually smiled over it. She decided to let him have his way* then stood on her tiptoes* braced her hands against Lyon's back* and peeked over his shoulder so she could see what was going on.
There were five of them. Four held knives. Poor workmanship* Christina noted with a shake of her head. The fifth man held a pistol in his right hand. All wore masks that covered the lower portion of their faces. The man with the pistol—obviously the leader in Christina's judgment—shouted orders from the entrance. His voice was strained into a deep* guttural tone. Christina immediately assumed he was known by some of the guests. He wouldn't have disguised his voice unless he thought he'd be recognized. And while he was dressed like the others in peasant garb and an ill-fitting hat* his boots weren't the same at all. They were old and scruffy* like the boots the others wore* but the quality of the leather was apparent to Christina.
And then the leader turned and looked across the room. His eyes widened in surprise. Christina let out an involuntary gasp. Good Lord* she'd just met the man not an hour past.
Lyon heard her indrawn breath. The scowl increased on his face* for he immediately assumed Christina was terrified. He backed up a space* pushing Christina further into the shadows. His intent was to block her inside the alcove* and if the danger increased* he'd shove her out the doorway.
Lord Baker's wife swooned when one of the bandits demanded her diamond necklace. She conveniently landed on the settee. Christina was desperately trying not to laugh. Swooning was such a delightful pretense.
All of a sudden* Christina's aunt walked into the middle of the commotion. The Countess didn't seem to comprehend the fact that there was a robbery going on. When the leader turned and aimed his pistol in her direction* Christina immediately retaliated.
Crazed or not* Aunt Patricia was family. No one was going to harm her.
It happened too quickly for anyone to react. Lyon heard the whistle of the knife seconds before the bandit's howl of pain. He'd seen the glint of metal fly by his right shoulder. He turned* trying to protect Christina from the new threat* but didn't see anyone standing behind her. Whoever had thrown the weapon had vanished out the doorway to the balcony* he concluded.
Poor Christina. She tried to look dignified. Her hands were demurely folded together* and she gave him only a curious look. She even looked behind her when Lyon did* yet she didn't seem to understand there might be jeopardy there* lurking in the shadows.
Lyon quickly pushed her into the corner so that the wall protected her back. When he was satisfied no one could get to her from behind* he turned back to face the bandits. His shoulders pressed Christina against the wall.
She didn't argue over the confinement. She knew what he was doing. Lyon was still protecting her and was making sure no one was going to come back in through the archway. A noble consideration* Christina thought.
There wasn't any need* of course* for there had never been anyone behind her. She couldn't very well tell Lyon that* however* and his concern for her safety did please her immensely.
The leader had disappeared out the front door. The other bandits threatened the guests by waving their knives in front of them as they backed out of the room.
Both pistol and knife lay on the floor.
Lyon turned to Christina. "Are you all right?" he demanded.
He sounded so concerned. Christina decided to look frightened. She nodded* and when Lyon placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her toward him she could feel the anger in him.
"Are you angry with me?" she asked.
He was surprised by her question. "No*" he announced. His voice was so harsh* he thought he might not have convinced her. "Of course I'm not angry with you* love."
Christina smiled over the forced gentleness in his tone. "Then you may quit squeezing my shoulders*" she told him.
He immediately let go of her. "You're angry because you couldn't fight the mischief makers* aren't you* Lyon?"
"Mischief makers? My dear* their intent was a little more serious*" Lyon said.
"But you did want to fight them* didn't you?"
"Yes*" he admitted with a grin. "I was aching to get in the middle of it. Some habits die hard*" he added.
"You'll always be a warrior* Lyon."
"What?"
Oh dear* he was looking confused again. Christina hastened to say* "There are too many old people here. It wouldn't have been safe for you to interfere. Someone might have been hurt."
"Is your concern only for the old men and women?" he asked.
"Yes."
Lyon frowned over her answer. Then she realized he wanted her to be concerned for his safety* too. Didn't he realize it would have been an insult for her to show concern for him? Why* that would mean she didn't have enough faith in his ability! Still* he was English* she reminded herself. And they were a strange breed.
"I wouldn't worry for you* Lyon. You would have held your own."
"You have that much faith in me* do you?"
She smiled over the arrogance in his tone. "Oh* yes*" she whispered* giving him the praise he seemed to need. She was about to add a bit more when a loud wail interrupted her.
"Our hostess is coming out of her swoon*" Lyon announced. "Stay here* Christina. I'll be back in a minute."
She did as he ordered* though she kept her attention directed on him. Her heart started pounding when Lyon knelt down and picked up her knife. She took a deep breath* held it* and then sighed with relief when he put the knife on the table and turned his attention to the pistol.
The chaos surrounding her was confusing. Everyone was suddenly talking at the same time. Perhaps she should try to swoon after all* Christina considered. No* the settee was already taken* and the floor didn't look all that appealing. She settled on wringing her hands. It was the best she could do to look upset.
Two gentlemen were in deep discussion. One motioned Lyon over to join them. As soon as he moved toward the dining room Christina edged her way over to the table. She made certain no one was paying her any attention* then she cleaned and sheathed her knife.
She hurried over to stand beside her aunt. The Countess was administering blistering advice to the distressed woman draped on the settee.
"I believe we've had enough excitement for one evening*" Christina told her guardian when she was finally able to catch her attention.
"Yes*" the Countess answered. "We'd better be on our way."
Lyon was blocked in the dining room* listening to absurd suggestions as to how two ancient gentlemen thought to trap Jack and his band.
After ten minutes or so* he'd had his fill. His attention kept returning to the unusual dagger he'd held in his hands. He'd never seen the like before. The weapon was crudely made* yet toned to needle-point sharpness. The handle was flat. Whoever owned the knife certainly hadn't purchased it in England.
Lyon decided to take the weapon with him. He was highly curious and determined to find the man who'd thrown it.
"I'll leave you gentlemen to think your plans through*" Lyon announced. "I believe I'll see Princess Christina and her guardian safely home. If you'll excuse me?"
He didn't give them time to start in again but turned and hurried back inside the drawing room. He remembered telling Christina to wait for him until he returned. He shouldn't have left her alone* assuming she was still frightened enough to need his comfort. He sincerely hoped she was* for the thought of offering her solace was very appealing.
Lyon was already planning how he'd get Christina away from her guardian. He just wanted to steal a few minutes so he could kiss her once more.
"Well* hell." Lyon muttered the obscenity when he realized Christina had vanished. He glanced over at the table where he'd left the knife* then let out another foul expletive.
The knife had vanished* too. Lyon's mood blackened. He considered questioning the guests* but they were all still occupied rehashing their reactions to the robbery. He decided not to bother.
Lyon turned to look again at the alcove where he and Christina had stood together during the robbery. A sudden revelation popped into his mind. No* he told himself. It wasn't possible.
Then he strolled over to the alcove and continued on until he was standing next to the balcony railing.
A good twenty feet separated the balcony from the sloping terrace below. Impossible to scale. The railing was shaky* too weak to hold rope and man.
His mind immediately jumped to a ludicrous conclusion.
Lyon shook his head. "Impossible*" he muttered out loud. He decided to put that puzzle aside and concentrate on the real worry now.
Lyon left Baker's house in a black mood. He was too angry to speak just yet. He determined to wait until tomorrow.
Then he was going to have a long* hard talk with Rhone.

[Dalyia]

Chapter Four
Contents - Prev | Next
Edward always wore white. Colors displeased him. He preferred me to wear long* flowing Grecian-styled gowns of white also. The palace walls were whitewashed once a month* and all the furnishings were devoid of even a splash of color. While Edward's peculiarity amused me* I did comply with his wishes. He was so good to me. I could have anything I wanted and wasn't allowed to lift a finger in labor. He only bound me to one rule. Edward made me promise never to leave the pristine palace grounds* explaining it was for my protection.
I kept my promise for almost six months. Then I began to hear rumors about the conditions outside my walls. 1 believed Edward's enemies spread the rumors of brutality solely to cause unrest.
My maid and I changed into peasant clothing and set out on foot for the nearest village. I looked upon the outing as an adventure.
God help me* I walked into purgatory.
Journal entry August 15* 1795
~
The solicitors in care of the Earl of Acton's estate called upon Countess Patricia Cummings Tuesday morning at ten o'clock. Misters Henderson and Borton were prompt to the minute.
The Countess could barely contain her enthusiasm. She ushered both gray-haired gentlemen into her study* shut the door behind her* and took her place behind the scarred desk.
"You'll have to forgive such shabby furnishings*" she said. She paused to give both men a brittle smile before continuing. "I was forced to use the last of my reserves to dress my niece* Christina* for the season ahead of us* and there just wasn't anything left over. Why* I've had to turn down many requests for visitations with my niece—too embarrassed* you understand* to let anyone see the way we're living. Christina has caused a sensation. I'll marry her well."
The Countess suddenly realized she was rambling. She gave a dainty little cough to cover her embarrassment. "Yes* well* I'm certain you both know this townhouse is only on loan to us for another month. You did receive the bid for purchase* did you not?"
Henderson and Borton nodded in unison. Borton turned to his associate and gave him an odd* uncomfortable look. He poked at his cravat. The Countess narrowed her eyes over the rudeness. "When will my money be transferred into my hands?" she demanded. "I can't go on much longer without proper funds."
"But it isn't your money* Countess*" Borton announced after receiving a nod from his associate. "Surely you realize that fact."
Borton blanched over the horrid frown the Countess gave him. He couldn't continue to look at her. "Will you explain* Henderson?" he asked* staring at the floor.
"Certainly*" Henderson said. "Countess* if we might have a word in privacy with your niece* I'm certain this misunderstanding will be cleared up."
Henderson obviously wasn't intimidated by the Countess's visible anger. His voice was as smooth as good gin. He continued to smile all through the foul woman's tantrum. Borton was impressed.
Patricia slammed her fists down on the desk. "What does Christina have to do with this meeting? I am her guardian* and therefore I control her funds. Isn't that the truth?" she screeched.
Before Henderson could answer* Patricia slapped the desk again. "I do control the money* don't I?"
"No* madam. You do not."
Christina heard her aunt's bellow all the way upstairs. She immediately left her bedroom and hurried down the steps to see what had caused the Countess such an upset. Christina had learned the difference between her aunt's screams long ago. This one resembled the protest of a trapped owl* telling Christina her Aunt Patricia wasn't frightened. Just furious.
She reached the library door before she realized she was barefoot. Lord* that would certainly push her aunt into a tither* Christina thought. She hurried back upstairs* found her impractical shoes* and quickly put them on.
Christina counted five more shrieks before she was once again downstairs. She didn't bother to knock on the library door* knowing her aunt's shouts would drown out the sound. She threw the door open and hurried inside.
"Is there something I can do to help* Aunt?" Christina asked.
"This is your niece?" Henderson asked as he hurried out of his chair.
"Christina* go back to your room. I'll deal with these scoundrels."
"We'll not speak to you of the conditions set down in writing by your father* Countess*" Borton said. "It is you who must leave us alone with your niece. Those were your father's wishes as spelled out in his will."
"How could such a condition exist?" the Countess shouted. "My father didn't even know Jessica was carrying a child. He couldn't have known about her. I made certain."
"Your sister wrote to your father* madam* and told him about his grandchild. I believe she sent the letter when she was staying with you. And she'd also left a message for him. The Earl found it a year after her disappearance."
"Jessica couldn't have written to him*" Patricia announced with an inelegant snort. "You're lying. I would have known. I looked through each letter."
"You mean you destroyed each letter* don't you* Countess?" Henderson asked* matching Patricia's glare. "You didn't want your father to know about his heir* did you?"
Aunt Patricia's face turned as red as fire. "You can't know that*" she muttered.
Christina was concerned about her aunt's extreme anger. She walked over to her side and put her hand on the old woman's shoulder. "It doesn't matter how my grandfather learned about me. The past is behind us* gentlemen. Let it rest."
Both men hastily nodded. "A sensible request* my dear*" Henderson commented. "Now* according to the conditions of the will* we must explain the finances to you in privacy."
Christina increased her grip on her aunt's shoulder when she saw she was about to object. "If I request that the Countess remain* will you agree?" she asked.
"Of course*" Borton said after receiving another nod from his partner.
"Then kindly sit down and begin your explanation*" Christina instructed. She felt the tension leave her Aunt Patricia and slowly let go of her.
"A man by name of Captain Hammershield delivered your mother's letter to the Earl of Acton*" Henderson began. "We have the letter in our file* and the one Jessica left behind in our files* if you wish to challenge this* Countess*" the solicitor added. "I need not go into the other details of the letters* for as you say* Princess Christina* the past is behind us. Your grandfather fashioned a new will immediately. He had turned his back on you* Countess* and was so infuriated with his other daughter's behavior that he decided to put his fortune in holding for his only grandchild."
Borton leaned forward to interject* "He didn't know if you were going to be a boy or girl. There are conditions in both events* of course* but we will only explain the conditions for a granddaughter* you see."
"What did my mother do to cause her father to change his mind about her? I thought they were very close to each other*" Christina said.
"Yes* whatever did my sainted sister do to turn Father against her?" Patricia asked* a sneer in her voice.
"Jessica humiliated her father when she left her husband. Princess Christina* your grandfather was most upset. He liked his son-in-law and thought his daughter was acting… out of sorts*" he ended with a shrug to cover his embarrassment.
"What you're sniffing around and refusing to say is that my father at last realized Jessica was crazy*" the Countess announced.
"That is the sad truth*" Borton said. He gave Christina a sympathetic look.
"So the money goes directly to Christina?" the Countess asked.
Henderson saw the shrewd look that came into the woman's eyes. He almost laughed. The Earl of Acton had been right about this daughter* the solicitor decided. Henderson decided to rush through the rest of the stipulations* concerned that the old woman would ruin his midday meal if he had to look at her much longer.
"The funds were placed in abeyance until your nineteenth birthday* Princess Christina. If you marry before that day* the funds will be given to your husband."
"That is less than two months away*" the Countess remarked. "She will not marry so soon. And so* as guardian—"
"Please listen to the rest of the stipulations*" Henderson requested in a hard voice. "While the Earl liked his son-in-law* he decided to proceed with caution* in the event that his daughter's accusations about her husband turned out to have a drop of credibility."
"Yes* yes*" Borton eagerly interjected. "The Earl was a most cautious man. For that reason* he added further controls to the distribution of his vast fortune."
"Will you get on with it?" the Countess demanded. "Spell out the damned conditions before you make me as demented as Jessica was."
The Countess was getting all worked up again. Christina supported her demand* though in a much softer tone of voice. "I would also like to hear the rest of this* if you will please continue."
"Certainly*" Henderson agreed. He deliberately avoided looking at the Princess now* certain he'd lose his train of thought if he paused to appreciate the lovely shade of her blue eyes. He found it amazing that the two women were actually related to each other. The Countess was an ugly old bitch* in looks and manners* yet the lovely young woman standing next to her was as pretty as an angel and seemed to be just as sweet-tempered.
Henderson focused his attention on the desktop and continued. "In the event you reach nineteen and are unmarried* your father will oversee your inheritance. Princess Christina* your father was informed of the conditions of the will before he left England in search of your mother. He understood he wouldn't have access to the money until—"
"He can't still be alive*" the Countess exclaimed. "No one's heard of him in years."
"Oh* but he is alive*" Borton said. "We received a missive from him just a week past. He's currently living in the north of France and plans to return to claim the money on the day of his daughter's nineteenth birthday."
"Does he know Christina is alive? That she's here* in London?" the Countess asked. Her voice shook with anger.
"No* and we didn't feel the need to so inform him*" Henderson said. "Princess Christina's birthday is less than two months off now. Of course* if you wish us to try to notify your father* Princess* before—"
"No." Christina controlled her voice. She felt like shouting the denial* however* and could barely catch her breath over the tightness in her chest. "It will be a happy surprise for him* don't you agree* gentlemen?" she added with a smile.
Both men smiled back in agreement. "Gentlemen* we have tired my aunt*" Christina announced. "As I understand this will* I can never control my own money. If I marry* my husband will direct the funds* and if I do not* then my father will have free hand with the inheritance."
"Yes*" Borton answered. "Your grandfather would not allow a woman to have such power over his money."
"All this time I believed I would…" The Countess crumbled against her chair. "My father has won."
Christina thought her aunt might start weeping. She dismissed the two gentlemen a few minutes later. In a magnanimous gesture* Henderson told Christina he'd release a sum of money to tide her over until her father returned to gain guardianship.
Christina was humble in her gratitude. She saw the solicitors out the front door* then returned to the library to speak to her aunt.
The Countess didn't realize how upset her niece was. "I've lost everything*" she wailed as soon as Christina rushed back into the room. "Damn my father's soul to hell*" she shouted.
"Please don't get upset again*" Christina said. "It cannot be at all good for your health."
"I've lost everything* and you dare to tell me not to get upset?" the Countess screeched. "You're going to have to plead on my behalf to your father* Christina. He'll give me money if you ask. Edward didn't like me. I should have been nicer to him* I suppose* but I was so jealous of Jessica's good fortune in capturing him I could barely be civil to the man. Why he chose her over me still doesn't make any sense. Jessica was such a mouse. I was far better-looking."
Christina didn't answer her aunt's mutterings. She started to pace in front of the desk* her mind filled with the problem ahead of her.

[Dalyia]

"Were you surprised to learn that your father is still alive?" the Countess asked.
"No*" Christina answered. "I never believed he'd died."
"You're going to have to take care of me* Christina*" the aunt whined. "Whatever will I do if your father doesn't support me? How will I get along? I shall be the laugh of the ton" she cried.
"I've promised to take care of you* Aunt*" Christina said. "Remember how I gave you my word before we left Boston? I shall see my promise carried through."
"Your father might not agree with your noble intentions* Christina. He'll have control of my money* the bastard* and I'm sure he'll refuse to give me a single shilling."
Christina came to an abrupt halt in front of her aunt. "Giving my father control of the money does not suit my purposes*" she announced. "I'll not let it happen."
Patricia Cummings had never seen her niece look so angry. She nodded* then smiled* for she assumed the stupid chit was infuriated on her behalf. "You're a dear girl to be so concerned about my welfare. Of course* your concern isn't misplaced. A grave injustice was done to me by my father* and I did use the last of my own accounts to see you properly attired. It was all for nought*" the Countess added. "I should have stayed in the Godforsaken colonies."
Christina was irritated by the self-pity she heard in her aunt's voice. She took a deep breath* hoping to regain her patience* and said* "All is not lost. The solution to our problem is obvious to me. I will marry before my father returns to England."
Christina's calmly stated announcement gained her aunt's full attention. The old woman's eyes widened* and she actually straightened in her chair. "We don't know when Edward will arrive. He could walk into this very room as early as tomorrow*" she said.
Christina shook her head. "No* I don't think so. Remember* he must surely believe I didn't survive. Everyone else seemed very surprised to see me. And I plan to marry as soon as possible."
"How could we make the arrangements in time? We don't even have a suitable man in mind."
"Make a list of those I must consider*" Christina advised.
"This isn't at all proper*" the Countess protested.
Christina was going to argue when she noticed the gleam settle in her aunt's gaze. She knew then that she was giving the idea consideration. Christina goaded her into complete agreement. "We must move quickly if we are to be successful."
"Why? Why would you sacrifice yourself this way?" Patricia gave her niece a suspicious look. "And why would you rather have the money in your husband's hands instead of your father's?"
"Aunt* as I said before* it doesn't suit my purposes to let my father have any money. Now* what other objections must you raise before you see the wisdom of my plan?"
"Your father might have gained a new fortune by now. He may not even want the money."
"You know better*" Christina said. "I doubt that he's rich. Why would he keep in correspondence with the solicitors if he was so wealthy? Oh* he'll come back to England* Aunt Patricia."
"If you claim Edward will want the inheritance* I won't argue with you*" the Countess said.
"Good*" Christina said. "I think you are one of the most clever women I've ever known*" she praised. "Surely you can come up with a plausible reason for my hasty marriage."
"Yes*" the Countess agreed. "I am clever." Her shoulders straightened until her spine looked ready to snap. "Just how will your marriage help me?" she demanded.
"We will ask the man I marry to sign over a large amount to you. He must sign the papers before we are wed."
"Then it will have to be someone manageable*" the Countess muttered. "There are plenty of that kind around. I'll have to think of a good reason for the rush. Leave me now* Christina* while I make a list of possible husbands for you. With your looks* we can get just about anyone to agree to my conditions."
"I would like the Marquess of Lyonwood placed at the top of your list*" Christina announced* bracing herself for her aunt's displeasure.
"You can't be serious*" the Countess stammered. "He's rich* doesn't need the money* and simply isn't the type to cooperate with my plans."
"If I can get him to sign your papers* then will it be all right for me to wed with him for the short time I'm in England?"
"To wed with him isn't proper English* Christina. Oh* very well* since you're willing to make this necessary sacrifice* I'll allow you to approach the disgusting man. He won't agree* of course* but you have my permission to try."
"Thank you*" Christina said.
"You're still set on returning to those savages?"
"They are not savages*" Christina whispered. "And I will return to my family. Once you have the money in your hands* it shouldn't matter to you."
"Well* you certainly shouldn't mention that fact to the man we choose to marry you. It would surely set him against you* Christina."
"Yes* Aunt*" Christina answered.
"Get out of here and change that gown*" the Countess snapped. "You look positively ugly in that color of yellow. Your hair needs tending* too. Do something about it at once."
Christina immediately left the library* ignoring the ridiculous criticisms of her appearance.
By the time she shut the bedroom door behind her she'd shed the pretense. Christina was visibly shaking. Her stomach felt as though it was twisted into knots* and her head was pounding.
Though it was difficult to admit* Christina was honest enough to realize she was really frightened. She didn't like the strange feeling at all.
She understood the reason. The jackal was returning to England. He'd try to kill her. Christina didn't doubt her father's determination. Jackals didn't change their nature over the years.
Christina was going to give Edward a second chance to murder her. God willing* she'd kill him first.

[Dalyia]

Chapter Five
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There really are demons living on this earth* Christina. I didn't know such evil men existed until 1 saw innocent children who'd been tortured* mutilated* destroyed* just to gain their parents' obedience. An army of enforcers slaughtered defenseless peasants. My husband was a dictator; anyone believed to have a subversive thought was murdered. The dead* the dying littered the alleys. Carts would come to collect the bodies every night. The stench that would make us close our doors in the palace each sunset wasn't due to excess garbage… no* no* the odor came from the burial fires.
The people were kept hungry so they would be too weak to rebel. Even the water was rationed. 1 was so sickened by the atrocities I couldn't think clearly. Mylala* my faithful maid* cautioned me against confronting Edward. She feared for my safety.
I should have listened to her* child. Yes* I acted the part of a naive fool* for 1 went to challenge my husband.
Learn from my mistakes* Christina. It's the only way you'll survive.
Journal entry October 12* 1795
~
Lyon was slouched behind his desk* a full goblet of brandy in his hand and a hot container of water balanced on his knee.
Odd* but the injury hadn't given him any notice until this evening. It was well past four o'clock in the morning now. The nagging pain—and the dreams* of course—had forced him back to his study to work on the problems of his estates. He wouldn't retire until dawn was well upon the city of London… when his mind was too fatigued to remember.
He was feeling out of sorts. An old warrior* he thought with a smile. Wasn't that what Christina had called him? Warrior* yes* he remembered her calling him that… old* no* he didn't recall that mention.
The past had caught up with the Marquess. His years working for his country had taken a toll. He was a man who was feared still—had become legend* in fact* in many disreputable circles of French society. Lyon had always been given the most difficult* delicate missions. He was never called until the atrocity had been done* the evidence judged. His duty was solitary* his reputation unblemished by failure. The Marquess of Lyonwood was considered to be the most dangerous man in England. Some claimed the world.
No matter where the traitor hid* Lyon could ferret him out and dispatch him with quiet* deadly efficiency.
He'd never failed in his duty. Never.
The results of his loyalty were twofold. Lyon was given knighthood for his courage* nightmares for his sins. It was an easy enough retirement to accept. Since he lived alone* no one ever knew his torment. When the nightmares visited* and he once again saw the faces of those he'd eliminated* no one was there to witness his agony.
Lyon rarely thought about James or Lettie anymore* though he continued to shake his head over the irony of it all. While he was abroad defending his homeland against betrayers* his brother was home in England betraying him.
No* he didn't think about James much* and since meeting Princess Christina his mind had been in such a turmoil he could barely think with much reason at all.
He was a man given to intrigue. A good puzzle held his attention until he'd resolved it. Christina* however* still proved too elusive to understand. He didn't know what her game was… yet. When she didn't openly flirt with him—or Rhone either* for that matter—his interest had picked up. Lyon kept mulling over the strange conversation he'd had with the lady* but after a while he gave up. He'd have to see her again* he told himself. She still hadn't given him enough clues to satisfy him.
And where in God's name would she have heard the roar of lions?
Lyon knew he was becoming obsessed with finding out about her past. His determination didn't make much sense to him. Christina was affecting him in ways he'd thought impossible. He'd never felt so overwhelmed by a woman before. The admission bothered him far more than the nagging pain in his knee.
He would learn all her secrets. She was sure to have them—every woman did—and then his curiosity would be satisfied. Yes* then he'd dismiss her.
The obsession would end.
With that decision reached* Lyon dispatched notes to the gossip leaders of the ton. He was* of course* discreet in his requests for information about the Princess* using his sister Diana and her introduction into society as his main reason for wanting to know the ins and outs of "business."
He wasn't the least concerned about his deceitful endeavor. And in the end* when all the letters had been answered* Lyon was more frustrated than ever. According to all those in the know* Princess Christina didn't have a past.
The woman hadn't even existed until two months ago.
Lyon wasn't about to accept such a conclusion. His patience was running thin. He wanted real answers… and he wanted to see Christina again. He had thought to corner her at Creston's ball the following Saturday* then decided against waiting.
Ignoring good manners altogether* he called upon No. 6 Baker Street at the unholy hour of nine o'clock in the morning. Lyon hadn't bothered to send a note begging an audience* certain the ill-tempered Countess would have denied him entrance if she'd been given advance warning.
Luck was on Lyon's side. An extremely feeble old man with a mop of stark yellow hair opened the door for him. His clothing indicated that he was the butler* and his manner resembled that of an uncivil pontiff.
"The Countess has just left for an appointment* sir* and won't return home for a good hour or more."
Lyon held his grin. "I don't want to see the Countess*" he told the butler.
"Then who exactly did you want to see?" the servant asked in a haughty tone of voice.
Lyon let his exasperation show. The old man guarded the entrance like a gargoyle. Lyon brushed past him before he could issue a protest* calling over his shoulder* "I wish to speak to Princess Christina." He deliberately used his most intimidating voice to gain compliance. "Now."
A sudden grin transformed the servant's dour expression into wrinkles of delight. "The Countess ain't going to like it*" he announced as he shuffled ahead of Lyon to the double doors on the left of the entry way. "She'll be displeased* she will."
"You don't seem too disturbed by that eventuality*" Lyon remarked dryly when the butler let out a loud cackle.
"I won't be telling her about your visit* sir*" the butler said. He drew himself up and turned toward the staircase. "You can wait in there*" he said with a wave of his hand. "I'll go and inform the Princess of your wish to speak to her."
"Perhaps it would be better if you don't tell your mistress who her caller is*" Lyon instructed* thinking Christina just might decide against seeing him. "I'd like to surprise her*" he added.
"Since you ain't given me your name* it'll be easy enough to comply with your wishes."
It seemed to Lyon that it took an eternity for the butler to make it across the hallway. He leaned against the door frame and watched the old man. A sudden question made him call out* "If you don't know who I am* how can you be so sure the Countess will be displeased?"
The butler let out another crackle of laughter that sounded very like a long nail being dragged across a chalkboard. The effort nearly toppled him to the floor. He grabbed hold of the bannister before giving Lyon an answer. "It doesn't matter who you be* sir. The Countess don't like anyone. Nothing ever makes the old bat happy." The butler continued up the stairs in his slow* sluggish stride.
Lyon would have sworn it took the old man ten minutes to gain three steps.
"I take it the Countess wasn't the one who employed you*" Lyon remarked.