bring it along for you. Good evening, Princess Christina.'
'No, you really mustn't walk. Lyon, you should-'
'Let him walk. It's only a short distance away,' Lyon interjected.
Christina didn't argue further. Someone was going to have to fetch the carriage, and she preferred that Rhone took care of the matter so that she could spend a few minutes alone with Lyon.
'Thank you for your assistance, Rhone. Lyon, what are you going to do about those men cluttering my walkway? And am I mistaken, or are there one or two in the back of the house as well?'
'There are two,' Lyon said. 'I threw them out back.'
'They'll wake up and crawl home,' Rhone advised. 'Unless, of course, you-'
'I didn't,' Lyon said.
'Didn't what?' Christina asked.
'Kill them,' Rhone said.
' Rhone, don't frighten her,' Lyon said.
'Goodness, I hope not. Think of the mess.' Christina sounded appalled, but for all the wrong reasons. Both Lyon and Rhone started laughing.
'Shouldn't you be crying or something?' Rhone asked.
'Should I?'
'No, Christina, you shouldn't,' Lyon said. 'Now quit frowning.'
'You aren't wearing any shoes, Christina,' Rhone suddenly blurted out.
'Do be careful walking home,' Christina answered, ignoring his comment about her bare feet. 'Don't let anyone see your bandage. They might begin to wonder.'
As soon as the door was bolted shut, Christina turned back to Lyon, only to find that he was already halfway up the stairs, taking them two at a time. 'Where are you going?'
'To wash,' Lyon called back. 'Wasn't there a pitcher of water in your room, Christina?'
He was out of sight before she could give him a proper answer. Christina hurried up the steps after him.
When she caught up with him she wished she'd waited below the stairs. Lyon had already stripped out of his shirt. He was bent over the basin, splashing water on his face and arms.
Christina was suddenly overwhelmed by his size. She could see the sinewy strength in his upper arms, his shoulders; a pelt of golden hair covered his chest, narrowed to a line above the flat of his stomach, then disappeared below the waistband of his pants. She'd never seen the like. She was fascinated and wondered what it would be like to be held in his arms now.
He reached for the cloth. Christina took the strip of linen from his hands and began to pat his face dry. 'Your skin is so dark, Lyon. Have you been working in the sun without your shirt on?' she asked.
'When I was on my ship I used to,' Lyon answered.
'You have a ship?' Christina answered, sounding quite pleased.
'Had a ship,' Lyon corrected. 'Fire destroyed it, but I plan to build another.'
'With your own hands, Lyon?'
Lyon smiled down at her. 'No, love. I'll hire others to do the work.'
'I liked the ship I was on when I came to England. I didn't like it much below the deck though. It was too confining,' she admitted with a shrug.
Her voice trembled. So did her hands when she started to dry his shoulders. There were several glorious marks on him, and the sight of such handsome scars made her heartbeat quicken.
For the first time in his life, Lyon was actually feeling a little awkward. Christina was such a beautiful woman, while he was covered with marks. They were reminders of his black past, Lyon thought, but the ugly scars hadn't bothered him until this moment
'I promise to take you on my new ship,' he heard himself say.
'I would like that, Lyon,' Christina answered. The towel dropped to the floor when she gently traced the long, curved scar on Lyon 's chest. 'You are so handsome,' she whispered.
'I'm covered with flaws,' Lyon whispered back. His voice sounded hoarse to him.
'Oh, no, they are marks of valor. They are beautiful.'
She was looking up at him, staring into his eyes, and Lyon thought he'd never get used to her beauty.
'We should go back downstairs.' Even as he said the words, he was pulling her into his arms. God help him, he couldn't stop himself. The realization that he was alone with her, that they were in fact in her bedroom, rocked all the gentlemanly thoughts out of his mind.
'Will you kiss me before we go downstairs?' she asked.
Lyon thought she looked as though she'd already been kissed. A faint blush covered her cheeks, and her eyes had turned a deep blue again.
The woman obviously didn't understand her own jeopardy. And if she only knew the wild thoughts rambling through his mind, her face would turn as white as the sheets.
She trusted him. She wouldn't have asked him to kiss her if she didn't trust him. Lyon was going to have to control his baser instincts. Yes, he was going to be a gentleman.
One kiss surely wouldn't hurt. He'd wanted to take her into his arms the moment the fight had ended. The anger had been flowing like lava through his veins. Oh, he'd wanted her then, with a primitive passion that had shaken him.
And then she'd backed away from him. The sudden remembrance gave him a start.
'Christina, are you afraid of me?'
She could tell he was serious. The worry in his gaze said he was. The question was puzzling. 'Why would you think I'd be afraid of you?' she asked, trying not to laugh. He did look terribly concerned.
'After the fight, when you backed away from me…'
She did smile then, couldn't help herself. ' Lyon, the little skirmish I witnessed couldn't possibly be called a fight… and you actually thought I was afraid?'
He was so surprised by her comment, he immediately defended himself. 'Well, I'll admit that I didn't think it was much of a fight either, but when you stared at me with such a frightened look on your face I naturally assumed you were upset. Hell, Christina, most women would have been hysterical.'
By the time he'd finished his statement, he'd gone from sounding very matter-of-fact to muttering with irritation.
'Was it my duty to weep, Lyon? I apologize if I've displeased you, but I've still to understand all your laws.'
'You could make a duck daft,' Lyon announced.
Because he was grinning down at her, Christina decided not to let her exasperation show. 'You're the most confusing man,' she remarked. 'I have to keep reminding myself that you're English.'
The temptation was too compelling. Before she could stop her inclination, she reached out to touch his chest. The heat in his skin felt good against her fingertips, the mat of hair crisp yet soft.
'I wasn't afraid of you, Lyon,' Christina whispered, avoiding his eyes now. 'I've never been afraid of you. How could I be? You're such a gentle, kind man.'
He didn't know how to answer her. She sounded almost in awe of him. She was wrong, of course. He'd never been kind or gentle. A man could change, though. Lyon determined to be anything and everything Christina wanted him to be. By God, if she thought him gentle, then gentle he'd be.
'You really are a warrior, aren't you, Lyon?'
'Do you want me to be?' he asked, sounding confused.
'Oh, yes,' Christina answered, daring a quick look up.
'Warriors aren't gentle,' he reminded her.
She didn't want to press the issue because she knew he wouldn't understand. He was wrong, but it would be rude of her to set him straight. Her hands slipped around his neck, her fingers entwining in his soft, curly hair.
She felt him shudder; his muscles tightened.
Lyon would have spoken to her, but he was certain his voice would betray him. Her touch was driving him to distraction.
Gentle, he cautioned himself, I have to be gentle with her. He placed a kiss on her forehead. Christina closed her eyes and sighed, encouraging him. He kissed her on the bridge of her freckled nose next and finally reached her