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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.
Chapter Five
There really are demons living on this earth, Christina. I didn't know such evil men existed until 1 saw i
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.
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 ru
Ignoring good ma
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 ma
"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 a
"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?"