Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set]

by Gentle Warrior:Honor's Splendour:Lion's Lady

  “I do?” Christina asked, smiling. “That’s good to know,” she added when Lyon nodded. “Being romantic is a nice quality for a gentle lady to have, isn’t it, Lyon?”

  “Yes, it is,” he drawled.

  “Of course, we mustn’t let Aunt Patricia know of this inclination, for it would surely—”

  “Let me guess,” Lyon interrupted. “It would displease her, right?”

  “Yes, I fear it would. You’d better go home now. When you remember what it was you wanted to speak to me about, you may call again.”

  Lyon wasn’t going anywhere. He told himself he couldn’t take much more of her conversation, though. He decided to kiss her just to gain a moment’s peace. Then he’d have her submissive enough to answer a few pertinent questions, providing of course that he could remember what those questions were. He’d already gained quite a bit of information about her. Christina had obviously been raised in France, or in a French-speaking neighborhood. Now he wanted to find out why she guarded that simple truth so ferociously. Was she ashamed, embarrassed? Perhaps the war was the reason for her reticence.

  Lyon caressed her back to distract her from dismissing him again. Then he leaned down and tenderly nuzzled her lips while his hands continued to stroke her, gentle her. Christina moved into his embrace again. Her hands slowly found their way up around his neck.

  She obviously liked the distraction. When Lyon finally quit teasing her and claimed her mouth completely, she was leaning up on her tiptoes. Her fingers threaded through his hair, sending a shudder through him. Lyon lifted her off the floor, bringing her mouth level with his own.

  It was a strange sensation to be held in such a way, though not nearly as strange as the way Lyon was affecting her senses. His scent drove her wild. It was so masculine, so earthy. Desire swept through her in waves of heat when Lyon’s tongue slid inside her mouth to deepen the intimacy.

  It didn’t take Christina any time at all to become as bold as Lyon was. Her tongue mated with his, timidly at first, and then with growing ardor. She knew he liked her boldness, for his mouth slanted almost savagely over hers and she could hear his groan of pleasure.

  Christina was the most responsive woman Lyon had ever encountered. Her wild enthusiasm stunned him. He was a man conditioned to the game of innocence most women played. Christina, however, was refreshingly honest with her desire. She aroused him quickly, too. Lyon was actually shaking when he dragged his mouth away. His breath was choppy, uneven.

  She didn’t want to let go of him. Christina wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a suprisingly strong hug. “You do like kissing me, don’t you, Lyon?”

  How could she dare to sound timid now, after the way she’d just kissed him? Hell, her tongue had been wilder than his. “You know damn well I like kissing you,” he growled against her ear. “Is this part of the charade, Christina? You needn’t be coy with me. I honestly don’t care how many men you’ve taken to your bed. I still want you.”

  Christina slowly lifted her gaze to stare into his eyes. She could see the passion there, the possessiveness. Her throat was suddenly so constricted she could barely speak. Lyon was being just as forceful as a warrior.

  God help her, she could easily fall in love with the Englishman.

  Lyon reacted to the fear in her eyes. He assumed she was frightened because he’d guessed the truth. He captured a handful of her hair, twisted it around his fist, and then pulled her back up against his chest until her breasts were flattened against him. Then he gently forced her head further back. He leaned down, and when his mouth was just a breath away he said, “It doesn’t matter to me. I give you this promise, Christina. When you’re in my bed, you won’t be thinking about anyone but me.”

  He kissed her again, sealing his vow. The kiss was unashamedly erotic. Ravenous. Entirely too short-lived. Just when she began to respond, Lyon pulled away.

  His gaze immediately captured her full attention. “All I’ve been able to think about is how good we’re going to be together. You’ve thought about it, too, haven’t you, Christina?” Lyon asked, his voice husky with arousal.

  He was already prepared for her denial. He was expecting the ordinary. That was his mistake, he realized, and certainly the reason he was so stunned when she answered him. “Oh, yes, I have thought about mating with you. It would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?”

  Before he could reply, Christina moved out of his arms. She slowly walked across the room. Her stride was every bit as sassy as the smile she gave him over her shoulder when she tossed her hair behind her. When she’d opened the doors to the foyer, she turned back to him. “You have to go home now, Lyon. Good day.”

  It was happening again. Damn if she wasn’t dismissing him. “Christina,” Lyon growled, “come back here. I’m not finished with you yet. I want to ask you something.”

  “Ask me what?” Christina responded, edging out of the room.

  “Quit looking so suspicious,” Lyon muttered. He folded his arms across his chest and frowned at her. “First I would like to ask you if you’d like to go to the opera next—”

  Christina stopped him by shaking her head. “The Countess would forbid your escort.”

  She had the audacity to smile over her denial. Lyon sighed in reaction.

  “You’re like a chameleon, do you know that? One second you’re frowning and the next you’re smiling. Do you think you’ll ever make sense to me?” Lyon asked.

  “I believe you’ve just insulted me.”

  “I have not insulted you,” Lyon muttered, ignoring the amusement he heard in her voice. Lord, she was giving him such an innocent look now. It was enough to set his teeth grinding. “You’re deliberately trying to make me daft, aren’t you?”

  “If you think calling me a lizard will win my affections, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  He ignored that comment. “Will you go riding with me in the park tomorrow?”

  “Oh, I don’t ride.”

  “You don’t?” he asked. “Have you never learned? I’d be happy to offer you instruction, Christina. With a gentle mount… now what have I said? You dare to laugh?”

  Christina struggled to contain her amusement. “Oh, I’m not laughing at you,” she lied. “I just don’t like to ride.”

  “Why is that?” Lyon asked.

  “The saddle is too much of a distraction,” Christina confessed. She turned and hurried across the foyer. Lyon rushed after her, but Christina was already halfway up the steps before he’d reached the bannister.

  “The saddle is a distraction?” he called after her, certain he hadn’t heard her correctly.

  “Yes, Lyon.”

  God’s truth, he didn’t have an easy argument for that ridiculous statement.

  He gave up. Christina had just won this battle.

  The war, however, was still to be decided.

  Lyon stood there, shaking his head. He decided to be content watching the gentle sway of her hips, and it wasn’t until she was out of sight that he suddenly realized what it was that had bothered him when he first saw her.

  Princess Christina was barefoot.

  The Countess Patricia was in high spirits when she returned home from her appointment. Calling upon a possible suitor for her niece had been an improper undertaking, yes, but the outcome had been so satisfying, the Countess snickered away any worry of being found out.

  Emmett Splickler was everything the Countess had hoped he’d be. She’d prayed Emmett had inherited his father’s nasty disposition. Patricia hadn’t been disappointed. Emmett was a spineless halfwit, pint-sized in stature and greed. Very like his father, Emmett’s crotch controlled his mind. His lust to bed Christina was soon obvious. Why, the man positively drooled when the Countess explained the reason for her visit. From the moment she’d mentioned marriage to Christina, the stupid man became jelly in her hands. He agreed to sign over anything and everything in order to get his prize.

  The Countess knew Christina wasn’t going to take to Emmett. The man wa
s too much of a weakling. To placate her niece, Patricia had made a list of possible candidates. She’d even put the odious Marquess of Lyonwood at the top of the lines. It was all a farce, of course, but the Countess wanted Christina docile and unsuspecting for what was to come.

  The Countess wasn’t about to leave anything to chance. Under no circumstances would she allow her niece to wed someone as honorable as Lyon.

  The reason was very simple. Patricia didn’t want just a substantial portion of her father’s estate. She meant to have it all.

  The plan she laid out for Splickler was shameful, even by a serpent’s measure. Emmett had blanched when she calmly told him he’d have to kidnap her niece, haul her off to Gretna Green, and force her to marry him there. He could or could not rape the girl before or after the marriage certificate was signed. It made no matter to the Countess.

  Emmett was more frightened of being found out than she was. When she told him to include two or three other men to help restrain Christina, the stupid man quit his complaining and grasped the plan wholeheartedly. She’d noticed the bulge grow between his legs, knew his mind had returned to the picture of bedding her niece, assumed then he’d be desperate enough to do what was required.

  The worries exhausted the Countess. There was always the remote possibility that Emmett’s cowardice was greater than his lust to bed Christina. The plan could fail if there was any interference.

  For that reason, Patricia knew she was going to have to get rid of Christina’s filthy Indian family. If her niece didn’t marry Emmett, and she ended up with someone as strong-willed as Lyon, the union couldn’t possibly last long. Christina’s upbringing was bound to come out sooner or later. She wouldn’t be able to hide her savage instincts forever. And what normal husband would put up with her disgusting ideas about love and honor? He’d be horrified by her true nature, of course. Though it wouldn’t be possible for him to set her aside, for divorce was an unheard-of undertaking, he certainly would turn his back on her and turn to another woman for his needs.

  Such rejection might well send Christina scurrying back to the savages who’d raised her. The stupid chit still insisted on returning home. The Countess couldn’t let that happen. Christina had become her means of getting back into the ton. Even those who remembered her past indiscretions were so taken with Christina that they forced themselves to include the Countess again.

  Last of all her worries was Edward. Christina’s father wasn’t going to take it kindly that she’d outwitted him. As goodnatured as she remembered him to be, Edward would probably still try to get his hands on a share of the fortune. Christina would certainly be able to control her father, the Countess believed.

  Oh, yes, it was imperative that the little bitch remain in England until the Countess was finished with her. Imperative indeed.

  Chapter Six

  Edward kept his private quarters in a separate building adjacent to the main wing of the palace. I decided not to wait to tell him what his men were doing. You see, child, I couldn’t believe my husband was responsible. I wanted to place the blame on his officers.

  When I entered Edward’s office by the side door, I was too stunned by what I saw to make my presence known. My husband was with his lover. They’d shed their clothes and were cavorting like animals on the floor. His mistress’s name was Nicolle. She rode Edward like a stallion. My husband was shouting crude words of encouragement, his eyes tightly closed in ecstasy.

  The woman must have sensed my presence. She suddenly turned her head to look at me. I was sure she’d cry out my presence to Edward. She didn’t. No, Nicolle continued her obscene gyrations, but she was smiling at me all the while. I thought it was a smile of victory.

  I don’t remember how long I stood there. When I returned to my own rooms, I began to plan my escape.

  Journal entry

  August 20, 1795

  Lyon, whatever is the matter with you? Why, you actually smiled at Matthews. Didn’t I hear you ask after his mother, too? You aren’t feeling well, are you?”

  The questions were issued by Lyon’s sister, Lady Diana, who was now chasing her brother up the stairs to the bedrooms.

  Lyon paused to turn back to Diana. “You aren’t happy when I’m frowning, and now you seem upset because I’m smiling. Make up your mind on the matter of my disposition and I shall try to accommodate you.”

  Diana’s eyes widened over the teasing tone in her brother’s voice. “You are sick, aren’t you? Is your knee paining you again? Don’t look at me as though I’ve grown another head. It isn’t at all usual for you to smile, especially when you come to visit Mama. I know how tiring she can be. Remember, brother, I live with her. You only have to visit her once a week. I know Mama can’t help the way she is, but there are times I wish you’d let me move into your town-house. Is that shameful of me to admit?”

  “Being honest with your brother is not shameful. You’ve had a time of it since James died, haven’t you?”

  The sympathy in Lyon’s voice made Diana’s eyes fill with tears. Lyon hid his exasperation. His sister was such an emotional whirlwind when it came to matters of family. Lyon was quite the opposite. It was difficult for him to show outward affection. He briefly considered putting his arm around his sister’s shoulders to offer her sympathy, then pushed the awkward notion aside. She’d probably be so astonished by the gesture she’d break down into full-blown weeping.

  Lyon wasn’t up to tears today. It was quite enough he was going to endure another god-awful visit with his mother.

  “I really thought Mama was going to get better when you made her servants open her townhouse for my season, Lyon, but she hasn’t left her room since the day we arrived in London.”

  He merely nodded, then continued toward his destination. “Mama isn’t the least bit better,” Diana whispered. She trailed behind her brother’s shadow. “I try to talk to her about the parties I’ve attended. She doesn’t listen, though. She only wants to talk about James.”

  “Go back downstairs and wait for me, Diana. There’s something I wish to discuss with you. And quit looking so worried,” he added with a wink. “I promise I won’t upset our mother. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  “You will?” Diana’s voice squeaked. “You aren’t feeling well, are you?”

  Lyon started laughing. “God, have I really been such an ogre?”

  Before Diana could think of a tactful answer that wouldn’t be an outright lie, Lyon opened the door to his mother’s quarters. He used the heel of his boot to close the door, then proceeded across the dark, stuffy room.

  The Marchioness was reclining on top of her black satin covers. She was, as usual, dressed in black, from the silk cap covering her gray hair to the cotton stockings covering her feet. Lyon wouldn’t have been able to find her if it weren’t for her pasty white complexion glaring out from the shroud of black.

  It was a fact that the Marchioness mourned with true dedication. Lyon thought she took to the task with as much intensity as a spoiled child took to tantrums. God only knew the woman had done it long enough to have become a master.

  It was enough to make a dead man sit up and take notice. James had been gone for over three years now, but his mother continued to act as though the freakish accident had just taken place the day before.

  “Good afternoon, Mother.” Lyon gave his standard greeting, then sat down in the chair adjacent to the bed.

  “Good afternoon, Lyon.”

  The visit was now over. They wouldn’t speak again until Lyon took his leave. The reason was simple. Lyon refused to talk about James, and his mother refused to talk about any other topic. The silence would be maintained during the half hour Lyon stayed. To pass the time, he struck light to the candles and read The Morning Herald.

  The ritual never varied.

  He was usually in a foul mood when the ordeal was over. Today, however, he wasn’t too irritated by his mother’s shameful behavior.

  Diana was waiting in the foyer. When she saw th
e smile was still on her brother’s face, her worry about his health intensified. Why, he was acting so strangely!

  Her mind leapt from one horrid conclusion to another. “You’re going to send Mama and me back to the country, aren’t you, Lyon? Oh, please, do reconsider,” Diana wailed. “I know Uncle Milton has been a disappointment, but he can’t help being bedridden with his liver again. And I do so want to go to Creston’s ball.”

  “Diana, I shall be honored to take you to Creston’s bash. And I never considered sending you home, sweet. You’ve had your presentation, and you’ll certainly have the rest of the season. Have I ever gone back on my word?”

  “Well … no,” Diana admitted. “But you’ve never smiled this much either. Oh, I don’t know what to think. You’re always in a terrible mood after you’ve seen Mama. Was she more agreeable today, Lyon?”

  “No,” Lyon said. “And that’s what I wanted to discuss with you, Diana. You need someone here to show you the way to go around. Since Milton isn’t able and his wife won’t go anywhere without him, I’ve decided to send for Aunt Harriett. Does that meet with your—”

  “Oh, yes, Lyon,” Diana interrupted. She clasped her hands together. “You know how much I love Father’s sister. She has such a wonderful sense of humor. Will she agree, Lyon?”

  “Of course,” Lyon answered. “I’ll send for her immediately. Now then, I’d like a favor.”

  “Anything, Lyon. I’ll—”

  “Send a note to Princess Christina inviting her here for tea. Make it for the day after tomorrow.”

  Diana broke into giggles. “Now I understand your strange behavior. You’re smitten with the Princess, aren’t you?”

  “Smitten? What a stupid word,” Lyon answered. His voice sounded with irritation. “No, I’m not smitten.”

  “I shall be pleased to invite the Princess. I can’t help but wonder why you don’t just send a note requesting an audience, though.”