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.
'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.
