Christina, perchance?' he asked, his voice as bland as the color of his beige jacket. When Lyon nodded, Rhone started chuckling. 'Andrew has yet to meet your intended, Lyon. I thought you would like to do the introductions.'
'Good to see you again, Andrew,' Lyon said, trying to sound as if he meant it. He hadn't wanted to be interrupted; he didn't want to be civil, and he glared just that message to Rhone.
His friend was tugging on the sleeve of his jacket, probably trying to keep his bandage concealed, Lyon thought. The man had no business being out and about yet. Lyon would have pointed out that fact if they'd been alone. Then he decided Rhone had deliberately dragged Andrew with him up to the library to avoid an argument.
'The ladies are outside in the garden,' Rhone said, ignoring the black look his friend was giving him. He strolled over to the windows where Lyon stood, then motioned for Andrew to follow.
Rhone 's companion made a wide berth around Lyon to stand beside Rhone. His face was red, his manner timid. 'Perhaps I should wait downstairs,' Andrew remarked with a noticeable stammer. 'We have intruded upon the Marquess,' he ended in a whisper to Rhone.
'There's Christina, Andrew,' Rhone announced, pretending he hadn't heard his complaint. 'She's standing between two other ladies, in front of the hedges. I don't recognize the pretty one speaking to her now,' Rhone continued. 'Do you know who the other blonde is, Lyon?'
Lyon looked down at the flutter of activity below. His sister had obviously invited half the ton to her afternoon party, he decided.
He found Christina almost immediately. He thought she looked confused by all the attention she was getting. The women all appeared to be talking to her at the same time.
Then one of the gentlemen began to sing a ballad. Everyone immediately turned toward the sound. The doors to the music room had been opened, and someone was playing the spinet in the background.
Christina liked music. The fact was obvious to Lyon. The way her gown floated around her ankles indicated she was enjoying the song. Her hips were keeping gentle rhythm.
She was so enchanting. Her smile of pleasure made Lyon feel at peace again. Christina looked quite mesmerized. Lyon watched as she reached out and tore a leaf from the hedge, then began to twirl it between her fingers as she continued to sway to the music.
He thought she didn't even realize what she was doing. Her gaze was directed on the gentleman singing the song, her manner relaxed, unguarded.
Lyon knew she wasn't aware she was being watched, either. She wouldn't have eaten the leaf otherwise, or reached for another.
'Sir, which one is Princess Christina?' Andrew asked Lyon, just as Rhone started in choking on his laughter.
Rhone had obviously been watching Christina, too.
'Sir?'
'The blond-headed one,' Lyon muttered, shaking his head. He watched in growing disbelief as Christina daintily popped another leaf into her mouth.
'Which blond-headed one?' Andrew persisted.
'The one eating the shrubs.'
Chapter Ten
Father was overjoyed to see me. He thought Edward had approved of my visit, and 1 didn't tell him the truth for several days. I was too exhausted from my journey, and knew I had to regain my strength before explaining all that had happened to me.
Father was driving me mad. He'd come into my room, sit on the side of my bed, and talk of nothing but Edward. He seemed convinced that I didn't yet realize how fortunate I was to have married such a fine man.
When I could listen no more, I began to sob. The story poured out of me in incoherent snatches. I remember I screamed at my father, too. He thought I'd lost my mind to make up such lies about my husband.
I did try to speak to him again. But his mind was set in Edward's favor. Then I heard from one of the servants that he'd sent a message to my husband to come and fetch me home.
In desperation, I wrote the full story down on paper, including the fact that I was carrying his grandchild. I hid the letter in my father's winter chest, hoping he wouldn't find it until long months had passed.
Christina, he would have believed my delicate condition was the reason for what he referred to as my nervous disposition.
I began to make my plans to go to my sister, Patricia. She was living with her husband in the colonies. I didn't dare take the gems with me. Patricia was like a hound; she'd find them. She had such an inquisitive nature, for as long as I could remember, she'd read all my letters. No, I couldn't risk taking the jewels with me. They were too important. I'd taken them with the sole intent of seeing them returned to the poor in Edward's kingdom. He'd robbed them, and I was going to see justice done.
I hid the jewels in a box, then waited until the dead of night to go into the back garden. I buried the box in the flower bed, Christina.
Look for the blood roses. You'll find the box there.
The bride was nervous throughout the long wedding ceremony. Lyon stood by her side, holding her hand in a grip that didn't allow for any movement-or escape.
He was smiling enough to make her think he'd lost his mind. Yes, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. If Christina had been gifted with a suspicious nature, she might have concluded that her frightened state was the true reason for his happiness.
His mood did darken when she refused to repeat the vow 'until death do we part,' however. When she realized the holy man with the pointed velvet cap on his head wasn't going to continue along until he'd had his way, and Lyon started squeezing her hand until she thought the bones were going to snap, she finally whispered the required words.
She let Lyon see her displeasure for having to lie to a holy man, but he didn't appear to be bothered by her frown. He gave her a slow wink and a lazy grin. No, he hadn't been bothered much at all.
The man was simply too busy gloating.
Warriors did like to get their way, Christina knew. This one more than most, of course. He was a lion, after all, and he had just captured his lioness.
When they left the church, Christina clung to his arm for support. She was worried about her wedding gown, concerned that any abrupt movement would tear the delicate lace sewn into the neckline and the sleeves. Aunt Harriett had supervised the making of the gown, standing over three maids to see the task done to her satisfaction.
It was a beautiful dress, yet impractical. Lady Diana had told Christina she would only wear the garment once and must then put it aside.
It seemed such a waste. When she remarked on that fact to her new husband, he laughed, gave her another good squeeze, and told her not to be concerned. He had enough coins to keep her in new dresses every day for the rest of her life.
'Why is everyone shouting at us?' Christina asked. She stood next to Lyon on the top step outside the chapel. They faced a large crowd of people she'd never seen before, and they were making such a commotion she could barely hear Lyon 's answer.
'They're cheering, love, not shouting.' He leaned down and kissed her on her forehead. The cheers immediately intensified. 'They're happy for us.'
Christina looked up at him, thinking to tell him that it made little sense to her that complete strangers would
