'Where's your maid, Christina?' he asked, hoping conversation would pull him away from the ungentlemanly thought of carrying her over to the bed and seducing her.

'I'm alone for the week. I let Beatrice have the time away.'

Her casually spoken comment irritated him. 'For God's sake, no gentle lady stays all by herself,' he muttered.

'I do well enough for myself. I'm most self-serving.'

'Self-sufficient,' Lyon said with a sigh. He was having difficulty catching the last button. Her silky hair kept getting in his way.

'I beg your pardon?'

Lyon lifted her hair and draped it over her shoulder. He smiled when he saw the goosebumps on her skin. 'Self-sufficient, my sweet, not self-serving.'

'There is a difference?' she asked, trying to turn around to look at him.

'Stand still,' Lyon ordered. 'Yes, there is a difference. Your aunt is self-serving. You're self-sufficient.'

'Do you know I never make mistakes except when I'm with you, Lyon? It is therefore all your fault I get confused.'

He didn't want to waste time arguing with her. 'Come along,' he ordered after he'd finished fastening her gown. He took hold of her hand and pulled her behind him.

Christina had to run to keep up with him. 'I haven't braided my hair,' she said quickly. 'I really must, Lyon. It could be used against me. Surely you realize that.'

He didn't realize, knew he shouldn't ask, but did anyway. 'Why is your hair a weapon?'

'The men could catch hold of me if they grabbed my hair, unless of course I'm as quick as a panther, as fearless as a wolf, as cunning as a bear.'

The woman was getting carried away. Lyon let her see his exasperation when they'd reached the drawing room.

'Will you be all right sitting in the dark?' Lyon asked. He walked over to the front windows, pulled the braided cord from one side of the drape, and handed it to Christina.

'I'm not afraid of the dark,' she answered, looking disgruntled. 'What a silly question to put to me.'

'Tie this rope around the door handles, Christina. Make it good and tight. If anyone tries to break in, I'll hear the noise. All right?'

Lyon checked the windows. Age had sealed them tight. 'Yes, Lyon, I'll not let you down,' Christina said from behind him.

'Now listen well, my little warrior,' Lyon said in a hard voice. He took hold of her shoulders to give her a squeeze. 'You're going to wait inside this room until the danger is over. Do you understand me?'

His voice had been harsh, angry. It didn't seem to worry Christina, though. She was still smiling up at him. 'I really would like to help you, Lyon. After all, I would remind you that they are my attackers. Surely you will allow me to do my part.'

'Surely I will not,' Lyon roared. 'You'd just get in my way, Christina,' he added in a softer voice.

'Very well,' Christina said. She turned to the small oval mirror hanging on the wall adjacent to the windows and began the task of braiding her hair. She looked so graceful, so feminine. When she lifted her arms, her gown edged up above her ankles.

'You've forgotten to put your shoes on,' Lyon said, a smile in his voice. 'Again.'

'Again? Whatever do you mean?' Christina asked, turning back to him.

He shook his head. 'Never mind. You might as well leave your hair alone. You aren't going to get involved.'

Her smile reeked of sincerity. Lyon was immediately suspicious. 'Give me your word, Christina. Now.'

'What word?' she asked, feigning innocence. She turned away from his glare and started braiding her hair again.

Lyon held his patience. The little innocent didn't realize he could see her reflection in the mirror. She wasn't looking sincere now, only very, very determined.

He would gain her promise, even if he had to shake it out of her. Her safety was his primary concern, of course. Lyon wasn't about to let anything happen to her. But there was another reason as well. Though it was insignificant in comparison with the first, it still worried him. In truth, he didn't want her to watch him. There was a real possibility Christina would become more frightened of him than of Splickler and his men by the time the night was over.

Lyon didn't fight fair, or honorably either. Christina couldn't have heard about his past. Now that he realized how much he cared about her, he wanted to protect her from the world in general, bastards like Splickler in particular… but protect her from knowing about his dark side, too. He didn't want to disillusion her. She believed he was simply the Marquess of Lyonwood, nothing more, nothing less. God help him, he meant to keep her innocent.

He thought he'd lose her if she knew the truth.

'I promise I won't interfere until you ask me to,' Christina said, interrupting his dour thoughts. 'Mrs. Smitherson did show me how to defend myself,' she hastened to add when he gave her a dark look. 'I would know what to do.'

'Summerton,' Lyon answered on a long, drawn-out sigh. 'The people who raised you were called Summerton.'

His mood was just like the wind, Christina decided. Completely unpredictable. He wasn't smiling now but looking as though he was contemplating murder.

'You act as though we have all the time in the world before our visitors arrive,' Christina remarked. 'Won't they be here soon?' she asked, hoping to turn his attention away from whatever sinister thought had him glaring so.

'Not for a while yet,' Lyon answered. 'Stay here while I have a look around.'

Christina nodded. The minute he was out of sight she ran upstairs to fetch a ribbon for her hair. And her knife, of course. Lyon was going to get her help whether he wanted it or not.

She was back inside the drawing room, sitting demurely on the worn settee, her knife hidden under the cushion, when Lyon returned.

'I've decided to make it easy for Splickler.'

'How?'

'Left the back door unlatched.'

'That was most accommodating of you.'

Lyon smiled over the praise in her voice. He walked over to stand directly in front of her. His big hands rested on his hips, his legs were braced apart, and Christina was given the disadvantage of having to tilt her head back as far as she could just to see his face. Since he was smiling again, she assumed his mood had lightened. 'If you're sure they'll come through the garden, why let them inside the house at all? Why not greet them outside?'

'Greet them?' Lyon shook his head. 'Christina, they aren't coming here to speak to you. There might very well be a fight.'

He hated to worry her but knew she needed to understand. 'Well, of course there will be a fight,' Christina answered. 'That's the reason I prefer you to meet them outside, Lyon. I'm the one who'll have to clean up the mess, after all.'

He hadn't thought of that. And when he realized she thoroughly understood what was going to happen, he was immensely relieved. 'You're very brave,' he told her. 'The moon, however, gives too much light. I memorized every detail of the room they'll enter before I put out the candles. They'll have the disadvantage.'

'They'll also have to come through one at a time,' Christina interjected. 'A very cunning idea, Lyon. But what if they climb the vines instead of trying the door?'

'They won't, sweetheart.'

He seemed so certain, Christina decided not to worry about it. She watched him walk over to the doors. 'Time to put out the candles, love. Tie the rope around the doorknobs first, all right? You aren't frightened, are you? I'll take care of you. I promise.'

'I trust you, Lyon.'

Her answer warmed him. 'And I trust you to stay here.'

Вы читаете The Lion's Lady
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