Rhone blinked several times. "Why, I'm feeling very well," he replied awkwardly. "That is all you wanted to ask me?"

The two of them were dancing around the real issue, to Lyon 's way of thinking. " Rhone, Christina wants to know how your injury is doing. Isn't that right, Christina?"

"Oh, then you do know?" Christina asked, turning to look at Lyon.

"You know?" Rhone 's voice cracked.

"She knows," Lyon confirmed, chuckling over the flabbergasted look on Rhone 's face.

"Well, hell, who doesn't know?"

"You sound pathetic," Lyon told his friend.

"It was the color of your eyes, Rhone," Christina explained, giving him her attention again. "They're an unusual shade of green, and very easy to remember." She paused to give him a sympathetic look. "And you did look right at me. I really didn't mean to recognize you. It just happened," she ended with a delicate shrug.

"Are we putting all our cards on the table?" Rhone asked, leaning forward to give Christina an intent look.

"I don't understand," Christina said. "I don't have any cards with me."

"Christina takes everything you say in its literal sense, Rhone. It's a trait guaranteed to make you daft. Believe me, I know."

"That is most uncharitable of you, Lyon," Christina announced, glaring at him. "I don't know what you mean when you say I'm literal. Is it yet another insult I should take exception to, perchance?"

" Rhone is asking you if he may speak freely," Lyon told Christina. "Hell, I feel like an interpreter."

"Of course you may speak freely to me," Christina announced. "No one's holding a knife to your neck, Rhone. I've some medicine with me. I'd like to tend your injury, Rhone. You probably haven't had proper care."

"I couldn't very well call upon my physician, now could I?" Rhone said.

"Oh, no, you'd be found out," Christina said. She scooted off Lyon 's lap and went to Rhone 's side. Rhone didn't protest when she began to unwrap his badly fashioned bandage.

Both men watched as Christina opened a small jar of horrid-smelling salve. "My God, what's in there? Dead leaves?"

"Yes," Christina answered. "Among other things."

"I was jesting," Rhone said.

"I wasn't."

"The smell will keep me hidden," Rhone muttered. "What else is in there?" he asked, taking another sniff of the foul medicine.

"You don't want to know," Christina answered.

"It's best not to ask Christina questions, Rhone. The answers will only confuse you."

Rhone took Lyon 's advice. He watched Christina pat a large amount of the brown-colored salve on the cut, then rewrap the arm. "You have a nice scent, Rhone. Of course, the salve will soon remove it."

"I have a nice scent?" Rhone looked as though he'd just been handed England 's crown. He thought he should return her compliment. "You smell like flowers," he told her, then promptly laughed over saying such a thing. It was the truth, but certainly ungentlemanly of him to comment upon. "You're the one with the unusual eyes, Christina. They're the most wonderful color of blue."

"That's quite enough," Lyon interjected. "Christina, hurry up and finish your task."

"Why?" Christina asked.

"He doesn't want you standing so close to me," Rhone explained.

"Give it up, Rhone." Lyon 's voice had turned hard. "You aren't going to pursue Christina, so you can save your charms for someone else."

"Lady Diana would like your charms very much, Rhone," Christina interjected. She smiled at the reaction her comment caused in both men. Rhone looked perplexed. Lyon looked appalled. " Lyon, you don't own me. It is therefore unreasonable of you to dictate to other gentlemen. If I wanted Rhone 's attention, I would let him know it."

"Why do you suggest Lyon 's sister would like my attention?" Rhone asked. He was highly curious about her strange remark.

Christina replaced the jar in her receptacle before answering. "You English are so narrow-minded in your thinking sometimes. It's obvious Lady Diana is taken with you, Rhone. You only have to look at her to see the adoration in her eyes. And if you count the way you look after her, why, you'd realize you were meant for each other."

"Oh, God." It was Lyon who groaned out the words.

Both Christina and Rhone ignored him. "How can you be so certain?" Rhone asked. "You only met her once, and you couldn't have spent more than fifteen minutes with her. No, I think you're imagining this infatuation. Diana's just a child, Christina."

"Believe what you will," Christina answered. "What will happen will happen."

"I beg your pardon?"

Rhone looked confused again. Lyon shook his head. It was good to know he wasn't the only one dimwitted around Christina. "Destiny, Rhone," Lyon interjected.

"I really must leave now. Aunt Patricia believes I'm resting in my room," she confessed. "You will have to share my confidence, Rhone. Or should I call you Jack now?"

"No."

"I was only jesting, sir. Do not be so distressed," Christina said.

Rhone sighed. He reached out to take hold of Christina's hand, thinking to keep her by his side while he thanked her properly for tending his injury.

Christina moved so quickly Rhone was left reaching for air. Before he could blink, she was standing next to Lyon 's chair again.

Lyon was just as surprised. He was arrogantly pleased, too, for even though Christina probably wasn't aware of what she'd done, she had instinctively moved back to him. There was some kind of little victory in that choice, wasn't there?

"Christina, if you recognized me, why didn't you tell Baker and the others?" Rhone asked.

She took exception to his question. "They'll have to find out on their own," she said. "I would never break a confidence, Rhone."

"But I didn't ask you to keep this confidence," Rhone stammered.

"Don't try to understand her, Rhone. It will be your undoing," Lyon advised with a grin.

"Then please answer me this," Rhone asked. "Did you see who threw the knife at me?"

"No, Rhone. In truth, I was too frightened to look behind me. If Lyon hadn't been there to protect me, I think I would have swooned."

Lyon patted her hand. "The pistol wasn't loaded," Rhone protested. "Did you think I'd actually hurt someone?"

Lyon prayed for patience. "I cannot believe you set out to rob Baker with an empty pistol."

"Why would you use an empty weapon?" Christina asked.

"I wanted to scare them, not kill them," Rhone muttered. "Will you two quit looking at me like that? The plan did work, I might remind you."

"You just did remind us," Christina announced.

" Lyon, will you be able to find out who injured me?" Rhone asked.

"Eventually."

Christina frowned. Lyon sounded too certain. "Why does it matter?"

" Lyon likes a good puzzle," Rhone announced. "As I recall, Baker's balcony is a good fifty feet from the terrace below. Whoever it was had to be-"

"Twenty feet, Rhone," Lyon interjected. "And the balcony couldn't be scaled. The railing was too weak."

"Then whoever it was must have been hiding behind you… somewhere," Rhone said with a shrug. "No, that doesn't make sense. Well, thank God he had a lousy aim."

"Why do you say that?" Christina asked.

"Because he didn't kill me."

"Oh, I think his aim was quite on target," she announced. "If he'd wanted to kill you, I think he might have. Perhaps he meant to make you drop your weapon."

Christina suddenly realized she was sounding too sure of herself. Lyon was staring at her with a strange, intent expression on his face. "It was just a possibility I was giving you," she added quickly. "I could be wrong, of course. His aim could have been faulty."

"Why did you come over here to tend Rhone 's injury?" Lyon asked.

"Yes, why did you?" Rhone asked also.

"Now I am insulted," Christina announced. "You were hurt, and I only thought to help you."

"That was your only motive?" Lyon asked.

"Well, there was another reason as well," Christina admitted. She walked over to the door before explaining. "Didn't you tell me you were Lyon 's only friend?"

"I might have made that remark," Rhone admitted.

"You did," Christina said. "I never forget anything," she boasted. "And it seemed to me that Lyon is a man in need of friends. I shall continue to keep your secret, Rhone, and you must promise not to tell anyone I came to see you. The Countess would be upset."

"He doesn't suit either?" Lyon asked, sounding vastly amused.

"I don't suit?" Rhone asked. "Suit what?"

Christina ignored the question and started out the doorway.

"Christina."

Lyon 's soft voice stopped her. "Yes, Lyon?"

"I didn't promise."

"You didn't?"

"No."

"Oh, but you'd never… you don't even like the Countess. You wouldn't bother to tell her…"

"I'm seeing you home, love."

"I'm not your love."

"Yes, you are."

"I really prefer to walk."

" Rhone, what do you think the Countess will say when I inform her that her niece is strolling around town, paying calls on-"

"You don't fight with an ounce of dignity, Lyon. It's a sorry trait."

"I've never fought fair."

Her sigh of defeat echoed throughout the library. "I shall wait for you in the hall, you despicable man." Christina slammed the door shut to emphasize her irritation.

"She isn't at all what she appears to be," Rhone remarked. "She called us English, Lyon, as if we were foreigners. Doesn't make sense, does it?"

"Nothing Christina says makes sense, unless you remember she wasn't raised here." He stood up, stretched to his full height, and started for the door. "Enjoy the brandy, Rhone, while I go back into battle."

" Battle? What are you talking about?"

"Not what, Rhone. Who. Christina, to be exact."

Rhone 's laughter followed Lyon out the door. Christina was standing next to the front door. Her arms were folded across her chest. She wasn't trying to hide her irritation.

"Ready, Christina?"

"No. I hate carriages, Lyon. Please let me walk home. It's only a few short streets away from here."

"Of course you hate carriages," Lyon said. His voice was filled with amusement. "Now, why didn't I realize that sooner, I wonder?" he asked as he took hold of her elbow. He half led, half dragged Christina to his vehicle. Once they were seated across from each other, Lyon asked, "Are carriages as much a distraction as saddles, perchance?"

"Oh, no," Christina answered. "I don't like being confined like this. It's suffocating. You weren't going to tell the Countess I left without permission, were you, Lyon?"

"No," he admitted. "Are you afraid of the Countess, Christina?"

"I'm not afraid of her," Christina said. "It's just that she is my only family now, and I don't like to upset her."

"Were you born in France, Christina?" Lyon asked. He leaned forward to take hold of her hands.

His voice coached, his smile soothed. Christina wasn't fooled for a moment. She knew he thought to catch her off guard. "When your mind is set on finding something out, you really don't give up, do you, Lyon?"

"That's about right, my dear."

"You're shameful," Christina confessed. "Quit smiling. I've insulted you, haven't I?"

"Were you born in France?"

"Yes," she lied. "Now, are you satisfied? Will you quit your endless questions, please?"

"Why does it bother you to be questioned about your past?" Lyon asked.

"I merely try to protect my privacy," she answered.

"Did you live with your mother?"

He was like a dog after a meaty bone, Christina decided. And he wasn't going to let up. It was time to soothe his curiosity. "A very kind couple by the name of Summerton raised me. They were English but enjoyed traveling. I've been all over the world, Lyon. Mr. Summerton preferred to speak French, and I'm more comfortable with that language."

The tension slowly ebbed away from her shoulders. She could tell by Lyon 's sympathetic expression that he believed her. "The Countess can be difficult, as you well know. She had a falling out with the Summertons and refuses to let me speak of them. She wants everyone to think I was raised by her, I suppose. Lying is very difficult for me," she added with a straight face. "Since Aunt Patricia won't let me tell the truth, and I'm not any good telling lies, I decided it would be best to say nothing at all about my past. There, are you satisfied?"