Less interested? Christina felt like laughing. Why, the man would be appalled if he knew the truth. Yes, her aunt was right after all. The Marquess of Lyonwood was entirely too cunning to fool for long.
"Don't look so worried, my sweet," Lyon whispered.
She could see the amusement in his eyes. "Don't call me that," she said. Her voice shook, but it was only because of the strain of the pretense. "It isn't a proper law," she added, nodding vigorously.
"Proper law?" Lyon didn't know what she was talking about. His frustration turned to irritation. He forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. "Let's start over, Christina. I'll ask you a simple question, and you may give me a direct answer," he announced. "First, however, kindly explain what you mean when you say calling you sweet isn't a proper law."
"You remind me of someone from my past, Lyon. And I'm too homesick to continue this discussion." Her confession came out in a sad, forlorn whisper.
"You were in love with another man?" Lyon asked, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.
"No."
He waited, and when she didn't expound on her answer he let out a long sigh. "Oh, no, you don't," he said. "You will explain," he added, tightening his grip on her shoulders. "Christina, I've known you less than two hours, and you've got me tied in knots already. It isn't an easy admission to make," he added. "Can we not stay on one topic?"
"I don't think we can," Christina answered. "When I'm near you, I forget all the laws."
Lyon thought she sounded as bewildered as he felt. They'd circled back to her laws again, too. She wasn't making any sense. "I'll win, you know," he told her. "I always do. You can push me off center as many times as you like, but I'll always…"
He'd lost his train of thought when Christina suddenly reached up and trailed the tips of her fingers across the ragged line of his scar. The gentle touch sent shock waves all the way to his heart.
"You have the mark of a warrior, Lyon."
His hands dropped to his sides. He took a step back, thinking to put some distance between them so he could cool the fire rushing through his veins. From the innocent look in her eyes, he knew she didn't have any idea of the effect she was having on him.
It had happened so suddenly, so overwhelmingly. Lyon hadn't realized desire could explode so quickly.
Christina took advantage of the separation. She bowed her head and edged her way around him. "We must never touch each other again," she said before turning her back on him and walking away.
She had reached the alcove when his voice stopped her. "And do you find warriors with scars unappealing?"
Christina turned, so swiftly her skirt swirled around her ankles. She looked astonished by his question.
"Unappealing? Surely you jest with me," she said.
"I never jest," Lyon answered. His voice sounded bored, but the look in his eyes told her of his vulnerability.
She knew she must reveal this one truth. "I find you almost too appealing to deny."
She couldn't quite look into his eyes when she made her confession, overcome by shyness because of her bold admission. She thought she might be blushing, too, and that thought irritated her enough to turn her back on Lyon once again.
He moved with the speed of a lion. One minute he was standing across the balcony, and the next he had her pinned against the brick wall adjacent to the alcove. His body kept her right where he wanted her. The lower half of Christina's body was trapped by his legs, and his hands were anchored on her shoulders. When he suddenly reached over to shut the doors, his thighs brushed intimately against hers. The touch unsettled both of them. Christina pushed herself up against the wall, trying to break the contact. Lyon's reaction was just the opposite. He leaned closer, wanting the touch again.
Lyon knew he was embarrassing her. He could see her blush, even in the soft moonlit night. "You're like a fragile little flower," he whispered while his hands caressed her shoulders, her neck. "Your skin feels like hot silk."
Her blush deepened. Lyon smiled over it. "Open your eyes, Christina. Look at me," he commanded in a voice as gentle as the breeze.
His tender words sent shivers down her arms. Love words, almost identical in meaning to the words Black Wolf always gave Merry when he thought they were alone. Lyon was trying to gentle her in much the same way. Did that mean he wanted to mate with her? Christina almost blurted out that question, then realized she shouldn't. Lyon was an Englishman, she reminded herself. The laws weren't the same.
Heaven help her, she mustn't forget. "I would never flirt with a lion," she blurted. "It would be dangerous."
Lyon's hands circled her neck. He wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her or strangle her. The woman certainly did confuse him with her ridiculous comments. He could feel the frantic pulse of her heartbeat under his fingers. "Your eyes don't show any fear, but your heart tells the truth. Are you afraid of your attraction to me?"
"What an arrogant man you are," Christina said. "Why, I'm so frightened I believe I might swoon if you don't unhand me this very minute."
Lyon laughed, letting her know he didn't believe her lie. He leaned down until his mouth was just a breath away from hers. "Didn't you tell me I was too irresistible to deny, Christina?"
"No," she whispered. "I said you were almost too irresistible to deny, Lyon. Almost. There is a difference."
She tried to smile yet failed the task completely. Christina was simply too occupied fighting the nearly overwhelming urge to melt against him, to hold him tightly, to learn his touch, his taste. She wanted his scent to mate with her own.
She knew it was a forbidden, dangerous longing. It was one thing to tease a cub and quite another to play with a fully grown lion. The dark look in Lyon's eyes told her he'd be just as determined as a hungry lion, too. He'd consume her if she didn't protect herself.
"Lyon," she whispered, torn between desire and the need for caution. "You really must help fight this attraction. I'll forget everything if you don't cooperate."
He didn't know what she was talking about. What did she think she'd forget? Perhaps he hadn't heard her correctly. Her accent had become so pronounced it was difficult to be certain. "I'm going to kiss you, Christina," he said, catching hold of her chin when she started to shake her head.
"One kiss," he promised. He nuzzled his chin against the top of her head, inhaled her sweet scent, and let out a soft, satisfied sigh. Then he took hold of her hands and slipped them around his neck.
God, she was soft. His hands slid down her arms, causing goosebumps he could feel. Pleased with her reaction to his touch, he settled his hands possessively on her hips and pulled her closer.
He was taking entirely too long getting on with it. Christina couldn't fight her attraction any longer. One small touch would certainly satisfy her curiosity. Then she'd go back inside and force herself to forget all about Lyon.
Christina leaned up on her tiptoes and quickly brushed her mouth against his chin. She placed a chaste kiss on his mouth next, felt him stiffen in reaction. Christina drew back, saw him smile, and knew her boldness had pleased him.
His smile abruptly faded when she traced his lower lip with the tip of her tongue. Lyon reacted as though he'd just been hit by lightning. He dragged her up against him until her thighs were flattened against his own. He didn't care if his arousal frightened her or not. His arms circled her in a determined grip that didn't allow any leverage. Christina wasn't going to bolt until he let her.
She suddenly tried to turn her head away, and the tremor he felt rush through her made him think she might be having second thoughts. "Lyon, please, we will—"
His mouth found her, effectively silencing her protests. He teased and tantalized, coaching her to open her mouth for him. Christina responded to his gentle prodding. Her fingers slid into his hair as a passionate tremor coursed through his body. Lyon groaned into her mouth, then thrust his tongue deeply inside, demanding with his husky growl that she mate with him.
Christina forgot caution. H
er hands clung to Lyon's shoulders. Her hips moved instinctively until she was cuddling his heat with her own. A whimper of pleasure escaped her when Lyon began to move against her hips. Christina used her tongue to explore the wonderful textures of Lyon's warm mouth, mimicking him.
A fire raged in his loins. Lyon's mouth slanted over hers once again in a hot, wild kiss that held nothing back. Christina's uninhibited response was a blissful torment he wanted never to end. The way she kissed him made him think she wasn't innocent of men after all. Lyon told himself he didn't care. The desire to bed her at the first possible moment overrode all other considerations.
Lyon had never experienced such raw desire. Christina made a soft moan deep in her throat. The sound nearly drove him beyond common sense. He knew he was about to lose all control and abruptly ended the kiss. "This isn't the time or the place, love," he told her in a ragged whisper.
He took a deep breath and tried desperately not to stare at her mouth. So soft, so exciting. She looked as though she'd just been thoroughly kissed, which of course she had, and Lyon could tell she was having as much difficulty regaining control as he was.
That fact pleased him immensely. He had to peel her hands away from his shoulders, too, for Christina didn't seem capable of doing more than staring up at him. Her eyes had turned a deep indigo blue. Passion's color, Lyon thought as he kissed her fingertips and then let go of her hands.
"I'm going to learn all of your secrets, Christina," Lyon whispered, thinking of the pleasure they could give each other in bed.
His promise penetrated with the swiftness of a dagger. Christina believed he'd just promised to find out about her past. "Leave me alone, Lyon," she whispered. She scooted around him, walked inside the archway, and then turned to look at him again. "Your curiosity could get you killed."
"Killed?"
She shook her head to let him know she wasn't going to expound upon that comment. "We satisfied each other by sharing one kiss. It was enough."
"Enough?"
His bellow followed her inside the drawing room. Christina grimaced at the anger she'd heard in his voice. Her heart was pounding, and she thanked the gods that the guests were still in the dining room. There was an empty chair next to her aunt. Christina immediately sat down and tried to concentrate on the boring conversation the Countess was having with their host and hostess.
Minutes later Lyon appeared in the entrance. Lord Baker was beside himself with excitement. It was obvious that he and everyone else in the dining room believed the Marquess of Lyonwood had only just arrived.
Christina acknowledged Lyon with a curt nod, then turned her back on him. The rude gesture delighted the Countess. The old woman actually reached out to pat Christina's hand. It was the first show of affection she'd ever given her niece.
Lyon ignored Christina just as thoroughly. He was, of course, the center of attention, for his title and his wealth set him above the others. The men immediately surrounded him. Most of the women also left their chairs. They stood together like a covey of quail, bobbing their heads and eyelashes in unison whenever Lyon happened to glance their way.
When Christina couldn't stand the disgusting display any longer, she returned to the drawing room.
Lyon was trapped by their eager host into a discussion about crop rotation. He listened rather than advised, using the time to regain control of his temper. Though nothing showed on his face, inside he was shaking with fury.
Hell, she'd dismissed him again. Twice in one evening. Had to be some sort of record in that feat, he told himself. She was good, too. Why, she'd made him believe she was as hot as he was. Quite a little temptress, he decided.
Lyon was feeling as though he'd just been tossed into a snowbank. Christina was right, too. She had satisfied his curiosity. The problem, he grudgingly admitted, was the taste of her. Hot, wild honey. He hadn't gotten enough. And while Lord Baker enthusiastically spoke about the merits of barley, Lyon heard again the soft whimpers Christina had given him. It was all surely an act on her part, but the memory still made his blood run heavy.
Christina's aunt had followed her into the drawing room. The Countess stayed right by her niece's side, making snide remarks about the ill-tasting food of which she'd just eaten a horrendously large portion. Christina thought she was safe enough until Lyon happened to walk into the room at the very moment the Countess left to go upstairs to the washroom to repair her appearance.
Christina was suddenly vulnerable again. Lyon was striding toward her, and though he smiled at the other guests, she could certainly see the anger in his eyes. She immediately hurried over to Lord Baker and spoke to him, warily watching Lyon out of the corner of her eye.
"You have such a lovely home," Christina blurted out to the host.
"Thank you, my dear. It is comfortable for my needs," Lord Baker stated, his chest puffing out with new importance. He began to explain where he'd picked up various pieces of art littering the shelves in the room. Christina tried to pay attention to what he was telling her. She noticed Lyon hesitate, and she smiled over it.
"My wife actually made most of the selections. She has a keen eye for quality," Lord Baker commented.
"What?" Christina asked, puzzled by the way Lord Baker was staring at her. He did seem to expect some sort of answer. It was unfortunate, for she didn't have the faintest idea what they were talking about.
Lyon was getting closer. Christina blamed her lack of concentration solely on him, of course. She knew she'd make a fool of herself in front of her host if she didn't try to pay attention. She deliberately turned her back on Lyon and smiled again at her host. "Where did you find that lovely pink vase you've placed on your mantel?" she asked.
Lord Baker puffed up again. Christina thought he looked like a fat rabbit. "The most valuable piece in my collection," he announced. "And the only one I picked out on my own. Cost more than all my wife's jewels put together," he whispered with a nod. "Had to be firm with Martha, too. My wife declared it simply didn't work."
"Oh, I think it's very beautiful," Christina said.
"Baker, I'd like to speak to Princess Christina for a moment. In privacy, if you wouldn't mind." Lyon spoke right behind her. Christina knew if she took a step back she'd touch his chest. The thought was so unsettling she couldn't seem to come up with a quick denial.
"Certainly," Lord Baker announced. He gave Lyon a speculative look. Matching in his mind, Lyon decided. The rumor that he'd taken an interest in Christina would certainly be all over London by noon tomorrow. Odd, but that realization didn't bother Lyon too much. If it kept all the other dandies at bay, then perhaps the rumor would work to his advantage.
"Certainly not," Christina suddenly blurted out. She smiled at Lord Baker to soften her denial while she prayed he'd come to her rescue.
It was an empty prayer. Lord Baker looked startled and confused until Lyon interjected in a smooth, lying voice, "Christina does have the most wonderful sense of humor. When you get to know her better, I'm sure you'll agree, Baker."
Their host was fooled by Lyon's chuckle. Christina wasn't. Lyon's unbreakable hold on her hand told her he wasn't really amused at all.
He was determined to win. Christina thought he'd probably cause a scene if she tried to deny his request again. The man didn't seem to care what others thought of him. It was a trait she couldn't help but admire.
Lyon didn't have to use pretense, she reminded herself. His title assured compliance. Why, he was as arrogant and as confident as the chief of the Dakotas.
Christina tried to disengage herself from his hold when she turned to confront him. Lyon was smiling at Lord Baker, yet increasing the pressure in his grip at the same time. He was telling her without words not to argue, she supposed. Then he turned and started to pull her with him.
She didn't struggle but straightened her shoulders and followed him. Everyone was staring at them, and for that reason she forced herself to smile and to act as though it was nothing at all to be dragged across the room
by a man she'd only just met. When she heard one woman whisper in a loud voice that she and the Marquess made a striking couple, she lost her smile. Yes, she did feel like hitting Lyon, but it was certainly uncomplimentary of the woman to make such a remark. She knew Lyon had also heard the comment. His arrogant grin said as much. Did that mean he wanted to strike her?
Lyon stopped when they reached the alcove. Christina was so relieved he hadn't dragged her outside, she began to relax. They were still in full view of the other guests—a blessing, because Christina knew Lyon wouldn't try to kiss her senseless with an audience watching his every move. No, tender embraces and soft words belonged to moments of privacy, when a man and woman were alone.
After nodding to several gentlemen, Lyon turned back to Christina. He stood close enough to touch if she took just one step forward. Though he'd let go of her hand, his head was inclined toward hers. Christina deliberately kept her head bowed, refusing to look up into his eyes. She thought she probably appeared to be very humble and submissive. It was an appearance she wished to give her audience, yet it irritated her all the same.
Another lie, another pretense. How her brother, White Eagle, would laugh if he could see her now. He knew, as well as everyone else back home, that there wasn't a submissive bone in Christina's body.
Lyon seemed patient enough to stare at her all evening. Christina decided he wasn't going to speak to her until she gave him her full attention. She captured her tranquil smile and finally looked up at him.
He was angry with her, all right. The gold chips were missing. "Your eyes have turned as black as a Crow's," she blurted out.
He didn't even blink over her bizarre comment. "Not this time, Christina," he said in a furious whisper. "Compliments won't get me off balance again, my little temptress. I swear to God, if you ever again dismiss me so casually, I'm going to—"
"Oh, it wasn't a compliment," Christina interrupted, letting him see her irritation. "How presumptuous of you to think that it was. The Crow is our enemy."