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hesitant, almost shy, when she added, "Still, you wouldn't take great
exception if this same little woman did know how to defend herself. Would you?
I mean to say, you wouldn't think it was unladylike… or would you?"
"Is this your room?" Lyon asked, deliberately evading her question. He pushed
the door of the first bedroom open, took in the dark colors and the rank odor
of old perfume, and knew before Christina answered him that he'd breached the
Countess's quarters.
The room was dark enough to please a spider. Or an old bat, Lyon thought with
a frown.
"This is my aunt's room," Christina said. She peeked inside. "It's awfully
gloomy, isn't it?"
"You seem surprised. Haven't you ever been inside?"
"No."
Lyon was pulling the door closed when he saw the number of bolts and chains
attached to the inside. "Your aunt must be an uneasy sleeper," he remarked.
"Against whom does she lock her door, Christina?"
He knew the answer and was already getting angry. Lyon remembered the seaman's
remark about the Countess being frightened of the pretty little miss.
The locks were on the wrong side of the door, as far as Lyon was concerned.
Christina should be protecting herself against the Countess, and not the other
way around.
What kind of life had Christina been forced to live since returning to her
family and her homeland? She must surely be lonely. And what kind of woman
would shun her only relative?
"My aunt doesn't like to be disturbed when she sleeps," Christina explained.
Lyon reacted to the sadness in her voice by hugging her close to him. "You
haven't had an easy time of it since coming home, have you, love?"
He could feel her shrug against him. "My room is at the end of the hall. Is
that what you're looking for?"
"Yes," he answered. "But I want to check all the windows, too."
"I have two windows in my room," Christina said. She pulled away from him,
took hold of his hand, and hurried into her room.
Lyon took in everything in one quick glance. The bedroom was sparse by most
women's standards, immensely appealing by his own. Trinkets didn't litter the
two chest tops. No, there wasn't any clutter. A single chair, angled in the
corner, a privacy screen behind it, a canopy bed with a bright white coverlet,
and two small chests were the only pieces of furniture in the large square
room.
Christina obviously liked order. The room was spotless, save for the single
blanket someone had dropped on the floor by the window.
"The garden's right below my windows," Christina said. "The wall would be easy
to scale. The greenery reaches the ledge. I think the vines are sturdy enough
to hold a man."
"I'd rather they didn't come in through the windows," Lyon remarked, almost
absentmindedly. He tested the frames, then looked down at the garden. He
wished the moon wasn't so accommodating this evening. There was too much
light.
Lyon glanced over at Christina. His expression and his attitude had changed.
Drastically.
Christina felt like smiling. He really was a warrior. His face was just as
impassive as a brave's. She couldn't tell what he was thinking now, and the
rigidity of his bearing indicated to her he was preparing for battle.
"The drawing room only has two front windows, as I recall. Is there another
entrance besides the one from the foyer?"
"No," Christina answered.
"Good. Get dressed, Christina. You can wait in there until this is over. I'll
make it safe enough."
"How?"
"By blocking the windows and the doors," Lyon explained.
"No. I mean, I don't wish to be locked inside anywhere, Lyon."
The vehemence in her tone surprised him. Then he remembered how uncomfortable
she'd been inside the closed carriage. His heart went out to her. "If I
fashion a lock on the inside of the door so you'll know you could get out if
you—"
"Oh, yes, that would do nicely," Christina interrupted with a brisk nod. She
looked very relieved. "Thank you for understanding."
"Now why are you frowning?" Lyon asked, clearly exasperated.
"I've just realized you have another weapon to use against me if you become
angry with me," she admitted. "I've just shown you a weakness," she added with
a shrug.
"No, you've just insulted me," Lyon returned. "I don't know too many men, or
women either, who would like to be locked in a room, Christina. Now quit
trying to distract me. Get dressed."
She hurried to do his bidding. "I don't think I want to wait in the drawing
room at all," she muttered to herself as she grabbed the first gown she could
lay her hands on and moved behind the screen to change. She realized what a
poor selection she'd made after she'd shed her robe and put the royal blue
dress on.
"Lyon? The fastenings are in the back," she called out, "I can't do them up
properly."
Lyon turned from the window to find Christina holding the front of her dress
against her chest.
When she turned to give him her back, the first thing he noticed was her
flawless skin. In the candlelight she looked too enticing for his peace of
mind.
The second thing he took notice of was that she wasn't wearing a damn thing
underneath. He wasn't unaffected either. His hands shook when he bent to the
task of securing her gown, his fingers awkward because he wanted to caress her
smooth skin.
"Where's your maid, Christina?" he asked, hoping conversation would pull him
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