Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] (122 page)

For long sweet minutes they teased each other with their hands, their tongues, their whispered words of pleasure.

Lyon had vowed to go slowly this night, to give Christina pleasure first, and he knew that if he didn’t pull away and help her get undressed soon he’d end up ripping another gown off her.

She was trembling when he dragged his mouth away from hers. Her voice had deserted her, and she had to nudge him toward the side of the bed. When he sat down, she pulled off his shoes and socks.

She stood on the platform between Lyon’s legs and slowly worked the fastenings free on her sleeves. It was an awkward task because she couldn’t seem to take her gaze away from Lyon to watch what she was doing.

“You’ll have to help me with the back of my gown,” she said, smiling because her voice sounded so strained to her.

When she turned around, Lyon pulled her down onto his lap. She fought the urge to lean against him, impatient now to get her scratchy gown out of the way. Her hands reached to her coronet, but she’d only pulled one pin free before Lyon pushed her hands away and took over the task. “Let me,” he said, his voice husky.

The heavy curls unwound until the rich, sun-kissed locks fell to her waist. Christina sighed with pleasure. Lyon’s fingers were making her shiver. He slowly lifted the mass to drape it over her shoulder, paused to kiss the back of her
neck, and then began the arduous task of unhooking the tiny fastenings.

His heart was slamming against his chest. The scent of her was so appealing, so wonderfully feminine. He wanted to bury his face in her golden curls; he would have given in to his urge if she hadn’t moved against his arousal so impatiently, so enticingly.

Lyon was finally able to get her gown open to her waist. She was wearing a white chemise, but the silk material easily tore free when he slipped his hands inside. He found her breasts and cupped their fullness as he pulled her forcefully back against his chest.

Christina arched against him. His thumbs slid over her nipples, making her breath catch in her throat. Her skin tingled when she rubbed her back against the warm pelt of hair on his chest.

“You feel so good, my love,” Lyon whispered into her ear. He nuzzled her earlobe as he tugged on her gown, lifting her away from him only long enough to push the garment down over her hips.

Christina was too weak to help. Her hips moved against him. Lyon thought her motions were excruciatingly blissful. He kissed the side of her neck, then her shoulder. “Your skin is so smooth, so soft,” he told her.

Christina tried to speak to him, to tell him how very much he pleased her, but his hand slid between her thighs, making her forget her own thoughts. His thumb teased her sensitive nub again and again until the sweet torture threatened to consume her. She called his name with a ragged moan when his fingers penetrated her, then tried to push his hand away. Lyon wouldn’t cease his torment, and she was soon lost to the sensations coursing through her, unable to think much at all. She could only react to the incredible heat. “Lyon, I can’t stop.”

“Don’t fight it, Christina,” Lyon whispered. He increased his pressure until she found her release. Christina arched against him, called his name again.

He could feel the tremors flowing through her. Lyon
didn’t remember taking the rest of his clothes off, didn’t know if he’d been gentle or rough when he moved her from his lap to the center of the bed.

Her hair fanned out on top of the pillows, shining almost silver in the candlelight. She was so beautiful. She was still wearing her white stockings. He might have smiled, but the surge of white-hot desire consumed him and he couldn’t be sure.

He came to her then, settling himself between her thighs, wrapping his arms around her. He captured her mouth in a searing kiss and thrust into her tight, moist heat just as his tongue thrust inside her mouth to mate with hers.

Christina put her legs around him, pulling him deeper inside. She met each thrust completely, forcefully, arching with demand when he withdrew.

They both found their release at the same moment.

“I love you, Christina.”

Christina couldn’t answer him. The sweet ecstasy overwhelmed her. She felt like liquid in his strong arms, could only hold onto him until the storm had passed.

Reality was slow to return to Lyon. He wanted never to move. His breathing was harsh, erratic. “Am I crushing you, love?” he asked when she tried to move.

“No,” Christina answered. “But the bed seems to be swallowing me up.”

Lyon leaned up on his elbows to take most of his weight off her. His legs were tangled with hers, and he shifted his thighs to ease the pressure.

His gaze was tender. “Say the words, Christina. I want to hear them.”

Because he fully expected to hear her tell him that she loved him, he wasn’t at all prepared for her tears. “My sweet?” he asked, catching the first drops that fell from her thick lashes with his fingertips. “Are you going to cry every time we make love?”

“I cannot seem to help myself,” Christina whispered between sobs. “You make me feel so wonderful.”

Lyon kissed her again. “You sound like you’re confessing
a grave sin,” he said. “Is it so terrible to feel wonderful?”

“No.”

“I love you. In time you’ll give me the words I want. You’re very stubborn, do you know that?”

“You don’t love me,” Christina whispered. “You love—”

His hand covered her mouth. “If you tell me I love a princess, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Christina asked when he moved his hand away from her mouth.

“Be displeased,” Lyon announced, giving her a lopsided grin.

Christina smiled at her husband. Lyon rolled to his side, then pulled her up against him. “Lyon?”

“Yes?”

“Will I always feel as though my soul has merged with yours?”

“I hope so,” Lyon answered. “Very few people are able to share what we’ve—”

“It’s destiny,” Christina said. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. “You may laugh at me if you want, but it was our destiny to be with each other. Besides, no other woman would have you.”

Lyon chuckled. “Is that so?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. You’re a scoundrel. Why, you ruined my reputation just to get your way.”

“But you don’t care what others say about you, do you, Christina?”

“Sometimes I do,” she confessed. “It’s a sorry trait, isn’t it? I care what you think of me.”

“I’m glad,” Lyon answered.

Christina closed her eyes with a sigh. The last thing she remembered was Lyon pulling the covers up over them.

Lyon thought she looked like a contented kitten, curled up against him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep for very long, and the familiar tension settled in the pit of his stomach. The nightmares would certainly visit him again. He hadn’t missed a night in over two years. His worry was
for Christina, of course. He didn’t want to frighten her. No, he knew he’d have to go downstairs and meet his past there, in the privacy of his library.

He closed his eyes for a moment, wanting to savor her warmth just a little longer.

It was his last thought until morning light.

Chapter Eleven
 

The voyage to the colonies was very difficult. The ocean in winter was angry with giant swells. The bitterness of the frigid air kept me inside my cabin most of the time. I tied myself to my bed with rope the captain had supplied, for I would have been tossed around the room if I hadn’t taken that precaution
.

I wasn’t sick in the mornings any longer, and my heart had softened toward you, Christina. I actually thought I’d be able to make a new beginning in the colonies
.

I felt so free, so safe. Another ocean would soon separate me from Edward. You see, I didn’t realize he’d come after me
.

Journal entry    
October 3, 1795

Morning sun flooded the bedroom before Lyon awakened. His first thought was an astonishing one. For the first time in over two years, he’d actually slept through the night. The pleasant realization didn’t last long, however. Lyon rolled to his side to take his wife into his arms, and only then he realized she wasn’t there.

He bolted out of the bed, then thanked God and his quick reflexes, for he’d just missed stepping on her.

She’d obviously fallen out of bed, and in her sound sleep she hadn’t awakened enough to climb back in.

Lyon knelt down next to Christina. He must have slept like an innocent, too, he decided, because he hadn’t heard her fall. She’d dragged one of the blankets with her, and she did look comfortable. Her breathing was deep, even. No, he didn’t think the fall had harmed her.

He gently eased her into his arms. When he stood up, she instinctively cuddled against his chest.

You trust me when you’re sleeping, he thought with a grin as her hands slipped around his waist and he caught her contented sigh.

Lyon stood there holding her for long, peaceful minutes, then placed her in the center of his bed. Her breathing hadn’t changed, and he really didn’t think he’d awakened her, but when he tried to move her hands away from his waist her grip increased.

Christina suddenly opened her eyes and smiled at him.

He smiled back a bit sheepishly, for the way she was watching him made him feel as though he’d just been caught in the act of doing something forbidden.

“You fell out of bed, sweetheart,” he told her.

She thought his comment was vastly amusing. When he questioned her about her laughter, she shook her head, told him he probably wouldn’t understand, and asked why he didn’t just make love to her again and quit frowning so ferociously.

Lyon fell into her arms, and into her plan wholeheartedly.

Christina proved to be just as uninhibited in the morning light as she was during the dark hours of the night. And he was just as satisfied.

He stayed in bed with his hands behind his head, watching his wife as she straightened the room and got dressed. He was amazed by her lack of shyness. She didn’t seem to be the least embarrassed by her nudity. She was dressed all too soon for his liking, in a pretty violet-colored walking gown, and when she began to brush the tangles from her hair, Lyon noticed the length didn’t reach her hips now. No, her hair was waist-length.

“Christina, did you cut your hair?”

“Yes.”

“Why? I like it long,” Lyon said.

“You do?”

She turned from the mirror to smile at him. “Don’t pin it up on top of your head, either,” Lyon ordered. “I like it down.”

“It isn’t fashionable,” Christina quoted. “But I shall bend to my husband’s dictates,” she added with a mock curtsy. “Lyon, are we leaving for your country home today?”

“Yes.”

Christina tied a ribbon around her hair at the back of her neck, a frown of concentration on her face. “How long will it take us?” she asked.

“About three hours, a little longer perhaps,” Lyon answered.

Then came a sound of someone banging on the front door. “Now who do you suppose that could be?” Christina asked.

“Someone with bad manners,” Lyon muttered. He reluctantly got out of bed, reached for his clothing, then quickened his actions when his wife hurried out of the room. “Christina, don’t you open that door until you know who it is,” he bellowed after her.

He stumbled on a piece of sharp metal, let out a curse over his awkwardness, then glanced down to see the handle of Christina’s knife protruding from the edge of the blanket she’d pulled to the floor with her. Now what in heaven’s name was her knife doing there? Lyon shook his head. He determined to question her just as soon as he got rid of their unwanted visitors.

Christina had requested names as Lyon instructed before she unlocked the chains and opened the door.

Misters Borton and Henderson, her grandfather’s solicitors, stood on the front stoop. They both looked terribly uncomfortable. Aunt Patricia was standing between the two men. She looked furious.

Christina wasn’t given time to greet her guests properly or to get out of her aunt’s way. The Countess slapped Christina
across her face so forcefully that Christina stumbled backwards.

She would have fallen if Mr. Borton hadn’t grabbed hold of her arm to steady her. Both solicitors were shouting at the Countess, and Henderson endeavored to restrain the wily old woman when she tried to strike Christina again.

“You filthy whore,” the Countess screeched. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear the stories of the vile things you did while I was away? And now you’ve gone and married the bastard!”

“
Silence
!”

Lyon’s roar shook the walls. Borton and Henderson both took hesitant steps back. The Countess was too angry to show similar caution, however. She turned to glare up at the man who had ruined all her plans.

Christina also turned to look at her husband. The left side of her face was throbbing with pain, but she tried to smile at her husband, to tell him it was really all right.

Lyon was down the stairs and pulling Christina into his arms before she could begin her explanation. He tilted her face up for his scrutiny, then asked her in a voice chilled with his rage, “Who did this to you?”