Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] (121 page)

“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 be happy for them, but the tender expression in his eyes made her forget all about her protest, the crowd, the noise. She instinctively leaned into his side. Lyon put his arm around her waist. He seemed to know how much she needed his touch at that moment.

She quit trembling.

“My, it was a splendid ceremony.” Aunt Harriett made her announcement from directly behind Christina. “Lyon, get her into the carriage. Christina, do be sure to wave to all the well-wishers. Your wedding is going to be the talk of the
season. Smile, Christina. You’re the new Marchioness of Lyonwood.”

Lyon reluctantly let go of his bride. Aunt Harriett had taken hold of Christina’s arm and was trying to direct her down the steps. Lyon knew his aunt would have her way, even if it meant a tug of war.

Christina was looking bewildered again. Little wonder, Lyon thought. His aunt was fluttering around them like a rather large bird of prey. She was dressed like one, too, in bright canary yellow, and kept flapping her lemon-colored fan in Christina’s face while she barked her orders.

Diana stood behind Christina trying to undo the long folds in the wedding gown. Christina glanced behind her, smiled at Lyon’s little sister, and then turned back to the crowd.

Lyon took hold of her hand and led her to the open carriage. Christina remembered to do what Aunt Harriett had instructed. She waved at all the strangers lining the streets.

“It’s a pity your mama couldn’t attend the ceremony,” she whispered to Lyon when they were on their way. “And my Aunt Patricia is going to be angry,” she added. “We really should have waited for her return from the country, Lyon.”

“Angry because she missed the wedding or angry because you married me?” Lyon asked, his voice laced with amusement.

“Both, I fear,” Christina answered. “Lyon, I do hope you’ll get along with her when she comes to live with us.”

“Are you out of your mind? The Countess will not be living with us, Christina,” he said. His tone had taken on a hard edge. He took a deep breath, then started again. “We’ll discuss your aunt later. All right?”

“As you wish,” Christina answered. She was confused by his abrupt change in disposition, yet didn’t question him. Later would be soon enough.

The reception had been hastily planned, but the result was
more than satisfactory. Candles blazed throughout the rooms, flowers lined the tables, and servants dressed in formal black scooted through the large crowd with silver trays laden with drinks. The guests spilled out into the gardens behind Lyon’s mother’s home, and the crush, as Aunt Harriett called it, proved that the party was a success.

Lyon took Christina upstairs to meet his mother. It wasn’t a very pleasing first meeting. Lyon’s mother didn’t even look at her. She gave Lyon her blessing, then began to talk about her other son, James. Lyon dragged Christina out of the dark room during the middle of one of his mother’s reminiscences. He was frowning, but once the door was shut behind them the smile slowly returned to his face.

Christina decided to speak to Lyon about his mama at the first possible opportunity. He’d been remiss in his duty, she thought, and then excused his conduct by telling herself he simply didn’t understand what his duty was. Yes, she’d speak to him and set him straight.

“Don’t frown so, Christina,” Lyon said as they walked down the stairs again. “My mother is content.”

“She’ll be more content when she comes to live with us,” Christina remarked. “I shall see to it.”

“What?”

His incredulous shout drew several stares. Christina smiled up at her husband. “We shall speak of this matter later, Lyon,” she instructed. “It is our wedding day, after all, and we really must be getting along. Oh, see how Rhone stands next to your sister? Do you notice the way he glares at the young men trying to get her attention?”

“You see only what you want to see,” Lyon said. He pulled her up against his side when they reached the entrance, guarding her just like a warrior when they were once again surrounded by their guests.

“No, Lyon,” Christina argued between introductions. “You’re the one who sees only what you want to see,” she explained. “You wanted to marry a princess, didn’t you?”

Now what in heaven’s name did she mean by that remark? Lyon thought to query her when her next question turned
his attention. “Who is that shy man hovering in the doorway, Lyon? He can’t seem to make up his mind if he should come inside or not.”

Lyon turned to see Bryan, his friend. He caught his attention and motioned him over. “Bryan, I’m pleased you could make it. This is my wife, Christina,” he added. “My dear, I’d like you to meet Bryan. He owns the Bleak Bryan tavern in another part of town.”

Christina bowed, then reached out to take the timid man’s hand. He offered her his left hand, thinking to save her embarrassment when she noticed his right hand was missing, but Christina clasped her hands around his scarred wrist and smiled so enchantingly that Bryan could barely get his breath. “I am honored to meet you, Bleak Bryan,” she announced. “I’ve heard so much about you, sir. The tales of your boldness are quite wonderful.”

Lyon was immediately puzzled. “My dear, I didn’t speak of Bryan to you,” he commented.

Bryan was blushing. He’d never had a lady of such quality pay him so much attention. He tugged his cravat, making a mess of the knot he had spent hours trying to perfect.

“I would certainly like to know where you’ve heard my name,” he said.

“Oh, Rhone told me all about you,” she answered with a smile. “He also said you would be giving your back room to Lyon next Friday eve for a game of chance.”

Bryan nodded. Lyon frowned. “Rhone talks too much,” he muttered.

“Is this the lady Mick told the story about, Lyon?” Bryan asked his friend. “No, she cannot be the same. Why, she doesn’t look like she’d have the strength to throw a man …”

Bryan finally noticed Lyon was shaking his head.

“Who is Mick?” Christina asked.

“A shipmate who frequents my establishment,” Bryan answered. His leathery face wrinkled into another smile. “He told the most remarkable story about—”

“Bryan, go and get something to eat,” Lyon interjected.
“Ah, here comes Rhone now. Rhone? Take Bryan into the dining room.”

Christina waited until she was once again alone with Lyon, then asked him why he’d suddenly become irritated. “Did I say something to upset you?”

Lyon shook his head. “I can’t take much more of this crowd. Let’s leave. I want to be alone with you.”

“Now?”

“Now,” he announced. To show her he meant exactly what he’d said, he took hold of her hand and started pulling her out the front doorway.

Aunt Harriett cut them off at the bottom step.

Christina had the good grace to look contrite. Lyon looked exasperated.

Aunt Harriett didn’t budge from her position. She reminded Lyon of a centurion, for her hands were settled on her hips and her bosom was heaving forward like a solid plate of armor.

A smile suddenly softened her rigid stance. “I’ve put Christina’s satchel inside your carriage, Lyon. You’ve lasted a good hour longer than I imagined you would.”

Aunt Harriett wrapped Christina in a suffocatingly affectionate hug, then released her.

“Be gentle this night,” she instructed Lyon.

“I shall.”

It was Christina who gave the promise. Both Lyon and his aunt looked at her. “She means me, Christina,” Lyon said dryly.

“You have only to remember that Lyon is your husband now, my dear,” Aunt Harriett announced with a true blush. “Then all your fears will be put to rest.”

Christina didn’t have any idea what the woman was trying to tell her. She kept giving Christina knowing nods, and an intense hawklike stare as well.

Lyon suddenly swept her up into his arms and settled her on his lap inside the carriage. Christina wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck, rested the side of her face against his shoulder, and sighed with pleasure.

He smiled against the top of her head.

Neither said a word for quite a while, content to hold each other and enjoy the blissful solitude.

Christina didn’t know where he was taking her, and she didn’t particularly care. They were finally alone, and that was all that mattered to her.

“Christina, you don’t seem frightened of the closed quarters today,” Lyon remarked. He trailed his chin across the top of her forehead in an affectionate caress. “Have you conquered this dislike?”

“I don’t think I have,” Christina answered. “But when you’re holding me so close to you, and when I close my eyes, I do forget my worry.”

It was because she trusted him, Lyon told himself. “I like it when you’re honest with me, Christina,” Lyon said. “And now that we’re married, you must always tell me the truth,” he added, thinking to ease into the topics of love and trust.

“Haven’t I always told you the truth?” Christina asked. She leaned away from him to look up at his face. “Why are you looking so out of sorts? When have I ever lied to you?”

“The Summertons for one,” Lyon drawled.

“Who?”

“Exactly,” Lyon answered. “You told me the Summertons raised you, and we both know that was a lie.”

“A fabrication,” Christina corrected.

“There’s a difference?”

“Sort of.”

“That’s not an answer, Christina,” Lyon said. “It’s an evasion.”

“Oh.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Christina asked. She tickled the back of his neck with her fingertips, trying to turn his attention. It was their wedding night, and she really didn’t want to have to lie to him again.

“Are you going to tell me the truth about your past now? Since the Summertons don’t exist …”

“You really are persistent,” Christina muttered. She softened
her rebuke with a quick smile. “Very well, Lyon. Since I am your wife, I do suppose I should tell you the full truth.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Lyon.”

She settled herself against his shoulder again and closed her eyes. Lyon waited several long minutes before he realized she thought the discussion was over.

“Christina?” he asked, letting his exasperation show. “Who took care of you when you were a little girl?”

“The sisters.”

“What sisters?”

Christina ignored the impatience in his voice. Her mind raced for a new fabrication. “Sister Vivien and Sister Jennifer mostly,” she said. “I lived in a convent, you see, in France. It was a very secluded area. I don’t remember who took me there. I was very young. The sisters were like mothers to me, Lyon. Each night they’d tell me wonderful stories about the places they’d seen.”

“Buffalo stories?” Lyon asked, smiling over the sincerity in her voice.

“Why, as a matter of fact, yes,” Christina answered, warming to her story. She made the decision not to feel guilty about deceiving her husband. Her motives were pure enough. Lyon would only be upset by the truth.

He was English, after all.

“Sister Frances drew a picture of a buffalo for me. Have you ever seen one, Lyon?”

“No,” he answered. “Now tell me more about this convent,” Lyon persisted. His hands caressed her back in a soothing motion.

“Well, as I said, it was in a very isolated spot. A giant wall surrounded the buildings. I was allowed to run barefoot most of the time, for we never had visitors. I was terribly spoiled, but I was still a sweet-tempered child. Sister Mary told me she knew my mother, and that is why they took me in. I was the only child there, of course.”

“How did you learn to defend yourself?” he asked, his voice mild.

“Sister Vivien believed that a woman should know how to protect herself. There weren’t any men around to protect us. It was a reasonable decision.”

Christina’s explanation made good sense. She’d answered his question about her confusion with the English laws, the reason she preferred to go shoeless, and where she’d seen a buffalo. Oh, yes, the explanation tied up some of the dangling strings all right. It was convincing and logical.

He wasn’t buying it for a minute.

Lyon leaned back against the upholstery and smiled. He accepted the fact that time was needed for Christina to learn to trust him with the truth. He’d probably know all there was to know about her before she finally got around to telling him, of course.

Lyon realized the irony. He was determined that Christina would never find out about his past activities. He meant to keep his sins from her, yet he persisted, like a hound after a meaty rabbit, in prodding her into telling him all about herself.

He wasn’t, however, the one insisting he was going home. She was. And Lyon knew full well the mythical convent wasn’t her real destination.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

“Lyon, you’re squeezing the breath right out of me,” Christina protested.

He immediately softened his hold.

They arrived at their destination. Lyon carried her up the steps to his townhouse, through the empty foyer, and up the winding staircase. Christina barely opened her eyes to look around.

His bedroom had been made ready for them. Several candles burned with soft light on the bedside tables. The covers had been drawn back on the huge bed. A fire blazed in the hearth across the room, taking the chill out of the night air.

Lyon placed her on the bed and stood there smiling at her for the longest time. “I’ve sent my staff on ahead to open the country home, Christina. We’re all alone,” he explained as he knelt down and reached for her shoes.

“It’s our wedding night,” Christina said. “I must undress you first. It is the way it should be done, Lyon.”

She flipped her shoes off, then stood beside her husband. After she’d untied the knot of his cravat, she stood back to help him with his jacket.

When his shirt had been removed and her fingers slipped into the waistband of his pants, Lyon couldn’t stand still any longer. Christina smiled when she noticed how his stomach muscles reacted to her touch. She would have continued undressing him, but Lyon wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her up against his chest, and claimed her mouth in a hot, sensual kiss.