Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] (131 page)

“No,
you
would have ruined it,” Lyon announced. “I’ve already taken care of the problem, Christina. Now give me your word that you’ll stay inside.”

“I have no other errands to take care of,” Christina answered.

When he let go of her arm, Christina turned and rushed up the rest of the steps. Lyon was just walking out the front door when she called out to him.

“Lyon?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to have to apologize. Will you do it now or when you return from Rhone’s house?”

“Apologize?”

He’d shouted the word at her. Christina concluded he wasn’t contrite. “Then you’re going to have to start all over,” she shouted back.

“What are you talking about? I don’t have time for riddles,” Lyon announced. “If anyone’s going to apologize …”

He didn’t bother to finish his demand, for his wife had turned her back on him and disappeared down the hallway.

She’d just dismissed him again. Lyon didn’t think he was ever going to get used to that action.

He wasn’t ever going to understand her, either. She had a devious mind. She’d come up with the same plan he had to help Rhone. He couldn’t help being impressed.

Lord, the task ahead of him would certainly prove exhausting. He was going to have to go to great lengths to keep Christina safe. She’d get into quick trouble if he wasn’t always by her side, watching over her. Christina didn’t seem
to understand caution. Hell, she didn’t even know enough to be afraid of him when his temper exploded.

No woman had ever raised her voice to him … nor had many men, Lyon realized. Yet Christina certainly had. When he shouted at her, he got equal measure in return.

She was his equal in all things. Her passion matched his own, and in his heart, he knew she loved him just as much.

Yes, the next twenty years, God willing, were going to be exhausting.

And very, very satisfying.

Chapter Fifteen
 

I didn’t want any more innocent people to die because of me. Edward would come after us. I knew I’d only been given a temporary stay of execution.

When dawn arrived, I’d only made it to the first peak. The wagon train was waking up. Would they send searchers out to find me?

I saw the Indians pouring down the hill then and thought to scream a warning, but I knew they wouldn’t be able to hear me. Then another scream came from behind me. It was a woman’s voice. Edward! He was there, I believed. Another innocent would die because of me. I grabbed the knife Jacob kept in his saddle pocket and ran toward the sound.

The sight that met me when I rushed through the trees broke through my cowardice, my fear. I saw a little boy, so battered, so bloody, crumbled like a fallen leaf on the ground. The woman who’d screamed was silent now. Her hands and feet had been bound.

Mother and child … like you and me, Christina … the attacker became Edward in my mind. I don’t remember putting

you down on the ground, don’t know if I made a sound as I ran forward and plunged my knife into his back.

The knife must have pierced his heart, for the attacker didn’t struggle.

I made certain he was dead, then turned to help the little boy. His whimpers of agony tore at me. I gently lifted the child into my arms to give him what little comfort I could. When I began to croon to him, his breathing deepened.

I suddenly felt someone watching me. I turned and saw that the Indian woman was staring at me.

Her name was Merry.

Journal entry       
November 1, 1795

Lyon didn’t return to his townhouse until the early hours of the morning. It had been a thoroughly satisfying evening all around. The look on Rhone’s face when he was being robbed by the man pretending to be Jack would live in Lyon’s memory a good long while.

Yes, it had all been worth his efforts. The charges against Rhone would be dropped by tomorrow at the latest. Everyone now believed Rhone’s story that he’d injured his wrist by accident when he’d fallen on a piece of jagged glass.

Wellingham had been made to look like a fool. That thought pleased Lyon. He wasn’t through with that bastard—or the other three, for that matter—but Lyon knew he’d have to wait before making their lives as miserable as he had planned. Rhone’s father would be avenged. The four thieves were going to regret the day they’d decided to make Rhone’s family their target. Lyon would see to it.

Christina was sound asleep on the floor next to his side of the bed. Lyon undressed quickly, then lifted his wife into his arms, careful to avoid being pricked by the knife under her blanket. Put her where she belonged—in his bed. He wrapped his arms around her until she was snuggled against his chest.

He’d have to do something about the soft mattresses, he
supposed. He smiled as he remembered Christina telling him on their wedding night that the bed was trying to swallow her up.

She hadn’t fallen out of bed. No wonder she’d laughed when he’d announced that she had. Lyon fervently hoped she’d get used to the bed. He didn’t relish the idea of bedding down on the ground, but he would do it, he realized with a sigh, if it was the only way he could hold her.

Compromise. The word whispered through his mind. It was a foreign concept to him. Until Christina. Perhaps now, he decided, it was time to practice it.

Lyon was eager for morning to come. After explaining his reason for being so angry with her when he’d found her at Bryan’s tavern, he’d ease into the issue of her safety. He’d make her understand he only had her best interests at heart, and that she couldn’t go flitting about town without proper escort.

And she would learn to compromise.

Lyon wasn’t able to lecture his wife the following morning. She wasn’t there to listen to him.

He didn’t wake up until noon—an amazing fact, for he rarely slept more than three hours at a stretch. He felt rested, ready to take on the world. More exactly, he was ready to take on his wife, and he hurried in his dress so that he could go downstairs to begin her instruction.

Lyon had jumped to the erroneous conclusion that Christina would actually be waiting for him.

“What do you mean? She can’t be gone!”

His bellow frightened the timid servant. “The Marchioness left several hours ago, my lord,” he stammered out. “With Brown and the other men. Have you forgotten your orders to your wife? I heard the Marchioness tell Brown you had insisted she return to Lyonwood immediately.”

“Yes, I did forget,” Lyon muttered. He lied to his servant, of course. He hadn’t given any such instructions. Yet he wasn’t about to let a member of his staff know Christina wasn’t telling the truth. It wasn’t
her
character he was protecting but his own. Lyon didn’t want anyone to know the lack of control he had over her.

It was humiliating. Lyon grumbled about that sorry fact until a sudden thought made him cheer up a bit. Christina must have been nervous to leave so quickly. Perhaps she’d realized the significance of her actions yesterday.

Lyon at first thought to go to Lyonwood immediately, then decided to let Christina stew in her own worries for most of the day. By the time he arrived home she might even be contrite.

Yes, time and silence were his allies. He hoped he’d have her apology by nightfall.

Lyon spent an hour going over estate details, then decided to stop by his mother’s townhouse to tell Diana about Rhone.

He was given a surprise when he barged into the drawing room and found Rhone sitting on the settee with his arm draped around Diana.

“Am I interrupting?” he drawled.

His entrance didn’t seem to bother either one of them. Diana’s head continued to rest on Rhone’s shoulder, and his friend didn’t even glance up.

“Here’s Lyon now, sweetling. Quit crying. He’ll know what’s to be done.”

Lyon barked orders as he strode over to the fireplace. “Rhone, get your arm off my sister. Diana, sit up and behave with a little decorum, for God’s sake. What are you crying about?”

His sister tried to comply with his command, but as soon as she straightened up Rhone pulled her back, forcing the side of her cheek onto his shoulder again.

“You stay right there. I’m comforting her, damn it, Lyon, and that’s that.”

Lyon decided he’d have to deal with his friend later. “Tell me why you’re crying, Diana. Now. I’m in a hurry,” he added.

“You don’t need to raise your voice to her, Lyon.” Rhone glared at his friend. “She’s had an upset.”

“Will one of you please tell me what the hell the upset was?”

“Mama.” Diana wailed. She pulled away from Rhone to
dab at her eyes with her lace handkerchief. “Christina took her.”

“She what?” Lyon asked, shaking his head in confusion.

“Your wife took your mother to Lyonwood with her,” Rhone said.

“And that’s why Diana’s crying?” Lyon asked, trying to get to the bottom of the matter.

Rhone was trying not to laugh. His eyes sparkled with merriment. “It is,” he said as he patted Diana’s shoulder.

Lyon sat down across from his sister and waited for her to get hold of herself. She looked like a butterfly, he thought, dressed in a yellow gown with brown trim. Her tears were making a mess of the gown.

“Diana,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice, “You needn’t be afraid that I’m angry because my wife took our mother with her. That’s why you’re crying, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“You wanted Mother to stay here?”

When she shook her head and continued to sob, Lyon’s patience wore out. “Well?”

“Mama didn’t want to go,” Diana cried. “Rhone, you tell him. You saw what happened. I just don’t know what to think. And Aunt Harriett laughing like a loon the whole time. Oh, I didn’t know what—”

“Rhone, do you care about Diana?”

“I do. Very much.”

“Then I suggest you quiet her down before I strangle her. Diana, stop that snorting.”

“I’ll explain, my sweet,” Rhone told Diana in a tender, soothing voice.

Lyon hid his exasperation. Rhone was acting like a lovesick puppy.

“Your mama denied Christina’s request to go along with her to Lyonwood, you see. And that’s when the fireworks began.”

Rhone couldn’t control his smile. Diana was weeping into his jacket now, so he felt safe grinning. “Your wife was very determined to take your mother with her. So determined, in fact, that she … well, she dragged your mother out of bed.”

“You’re jesting.”

“Mama didn’t want to go.”

“Obviously,” Lyon drawled. “Did Christina explain her reasons for being so forceful?”

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, but his sister was watching him intently, and he didn’t want to upset her further by letting her see his amusement.

Rhone didn’t help his determination to shield his sister’s feelings. “You should have seen it, Lyon. Your mother is a strong woman. I never realized that fact. I thought she’d been languishing these past years, but she did put up quite a fight. Of course, that was only after …”

“After what?” Lyon asked, thoroughly puzzled by his wife’s conduct.

“Mama told Christina she wanted to stay where she was. She had people coming to call, and she wanted to talk to them about James, of course,” Diana said to Lyon.

“Yes, well, that’s when Christina asked your mother if her heart had died.”

“I don’t understand,” Lyon announced, shaking his head.

“I didn’t either,” Rhone answered. “Anyway, your mother said that since James had died, her heart was also dead … whatever in God’s name that means.”

Lyon smiled then. He couldn’t help himself. “My mother is a professional mourner, Rhone. You know that well enough.”

“Was,” Rhone drawled out. “Christina had gotten your mother down into the entryway by this time. Your aunt, Diana, and I were standing there, watching the two ladies, wondering what was going on. Then Christina explained it all to us.”

“She’s going to kill Mama.”

“Now, Diana, that isn’t what she said,” Rhone said. He patted her shoulder, then turned to grin at Lyon again.

“Rhone, will you get on with it?”

“Christina told your mother that where she came from—and God only knows where that is—an old warrior who was broken in spirit and in heart would go into the wilderness.”

“What for?” Lyon asked.

“Why, to find a nice, secluded spot in which to die, of course. Needless to say, your mother didn’t take kindly to being called an old warrior.”

Lyon stared at the ceiling a long minute before daring to look at his friend again. He was dangerously close to laughing. “No, I don’t suppose she would,” he whispered.

“Well, part of it is Mama’s own fault,” Diana interjected. “If she hadn’t agreed that her heart was broken, Christina wouldn’t have insisted on taking her with her. She told Mama she’d help her find a lovely spot.”

“That was good of her,” Lyon said.

“Lyon, Mama hadn’t had her chocolate yet. She hadn’t had her maids pack any of her possessions, either. Christina told her it didn’t matter. One didn’t have to pack when one was going to die. Those were her very words.”

“Your mother started shouting then,” Rhone announced.