Lyon (25 page)

Studying her face, he stroked her hair, and finding a soft nipple peeking from among the long strands, began to idly toy with it until it firmed under his touch. Another hand smoothed down the slope of her back and his expression heated. “Can you take me again?” he asked in a voice turned dark and seductive. “Where my brothers have had you?”

She smiled slowly, willing.

And so it went on through the night—they talked, and ate, and slept, and mated. As though they were the only two people who mattered, and what they did here together was a private activity removed from social mores or censure.

The foul weather had rendered the cabin a cozy, intimate haven. Their world had grown smaller and safer, for the moment.

She'd given him the gift of life, and as dawn approached, he gave her a gift in return, explaining the facts of her origins and filling her with wonder at the startling news that her father had been a King.

The sun came and went again, and then another one like it. And still they stayed close, cuddling, fondling, and joining their bodies so often that soon neither knew where one began and the other ended. It was a time for sharing kisses. And sharing confidences—at least some of them. Oblivious to the passage of hours, they knew only each other.

Then, with the next dawn, the carriage returned.

EarthWorld, Tuscany, Italy, November, 1823

“W
elcome to my home,” Lyon said, with satisfaction in his voice.

Juliette gazed around the great hall they'd entered, trying not to gape. For the interior of his
castello
was an unexpected disaster. Though this room and the adjacent one were enormous, scarcely any furniture inhabited them and what there was had been chosen for comfort rather than style. And it all appeared so antiquated that it could not possibly have been chosen within recent history.

Various implements utilized in the cultivation of grapes or in the production of wine were haphazardly set here and there, indicating that this marble-floored, chandelier-hung mansion functioned as a workspace as readily as it did a living quarters. It was easy to see that not only had all his efforts been directed toward the out of doors, but that he'd also managed to bring the outdoors, indoors.

Nearly an hour before their carriage had reached his home, he'd noted the boundaries of the Satyr estate for her as delineated by an immense stone wall nearly six feet thick, a vestige of ancient fortifications. Once inside it, they'd passed various ruins, follies, statues, and gazebos on their approach here.

Though it was autumn, the air was unseasonably moderate inside the grounds and there were expansive carpets of blooming phlox, vinca, valerian, various ivies, ferns, and grasses. Fruit and herbs, that elsewhere only grew in spring or summer, still seemed to be thriving here despite the season. In the distance there were the endless hills that were patchworked and terraced with grapevines, indicating that his holdings were far more extensive than the Valmont family's had been.

And, after viewing all of this, Juliette had been anxious to enter his home if only to escape the profusion of nature. Traveling almost two weeks with him, she'd become somewhat inured to all things bucolic, but still found them vaguely threatening. Eventually she'd been relieved to note that the wilds of cypress, hawthorn, and vine on his land were giving way to tamer gardens, arbors, and pavements.

Then this magnificent
castello
had come into view, and she'd seen it was comprised of a collection of five majestic towers that somehow assembled themselves together in a pleasing manner as viewed from a distance. Its outer walls were of granite, heavily veined with iron and even streaks of gold that glinted in the sunlight and which gave it a splendid regal cast. Heraldic shields displaying the ancestral Satyr coat of arms were sculpted at intervals, alternating with medallions depicting wildlife—most notably jungle cats such as lions and panthers.

Since his property and the exterior of his home had been so impressive, she'd expected the interior to be as well, and it was in large part. The rooms themselves, at least what she had seen of them, were elaborately designed with gleaming wood finishes mixed with Tuscan and Carrera marbles. A dramatic central tower rose above them and its winding staircase, complete with a lustrous carpet and a decorative parapet, led the eye upward.

“There's a viewing room at the top,” he told her seeing the direction of her gaze.

She waited for horror to sweep her with its chill, but was surprised to find that the idea of gazing out over a natural landscape was far less repugnant that she would've thought it only two weeks ago.

He put an arm around her and hugged her with almost boyish enthusiasm. “What do you think?”

“It's the handsomest estate I've ever seen. But you might have warned me,” she said, only half-teasing. “You described it as comfortable and unpretentious.”

“It is, isn't it?” Lyon drew away slightly to glance around them, and she saw he looked perplexed. He seemed to be genuinely unimpressed by his own luxurious holdings, as only a person who'd grown up surrounded by such grandeur could be.

“However,” he went on, “it's our home, and you may change it as you wish.”

Juliette ignored his pointed remark, for he'd been dropping similar, unsubtle hints for some time. He made no secret of the fact he expected to wed her. Soon, she would have to tell him that this was impossible and the reasons why, but ever the coward, she continued to put it off.

Though he assured her he would not be back to full health until the next full moon came, he looked fit to her, and well able to withstand her explanations. Except for some residual memory loss, he seemed the same as ever. Those lapses were strangely selective, for he'd recalled nothing of their time at Valmont's so far, and she'd told him only what was necessary in order that he petition an investigator in Paris to initiate a search for Fleur. Perhaps once his report arrived, she would reveal her own unfortunate news.

They'd spent the two days until the carriage driver had rescued them, indulging in what could only be described as an orgy of amorous experimentation. It had seemed perfectly normal at the time as she'd immersed herself in it, and she was startled to realize she wished herself back there in that rustic hunting cabin amid the woods. There, reality had been suspended. This glorious man had been completely hers and she his. Here, their relationship was less certain.

Ten days of travel had passed since then, and he'd been inside her as often as not, though their engagements had of necessity been less frequent on their route than before. He'd gradually regained strength, just as he'd explained would happen through his bedding of her. Though beds were often not the locale to which his amatory inclinations had led them thus far. A carriage, a bench, a floor, a table, a wall—all were locations suitable for intimate pursuits in his estimation, and she'd found him to be right.

A servant joined them just then, and he gave the man instructions regarding their trunks, for he'd had some clothing selected for them both at a shop along their journey. Then he returned to her and cocked his head to gaze at the room once more, as if trying to see it through her eyes.

“This place is solid. Dependable. As I am. But you are free to make any alterations in the dressing of either of us, within reason. I only ask that you not turn my home into an obstacle course stuffed to the gills with fragile objects I must constantly avoid or else find myself apologizing for their inadvertent destruction.”

Before she could decide how to reply, there was a skirmish at the door and a girl appeared.

“Lyon! You're home!” she shrieked, dashing to loop her arms at his waist. He stroked her hair and returned the hug. She looked to be about thirteen, with eyes that were bright and intelligent. And it was clear Lyon was a favorite of hers.

“And you brought Juliette!” The girl hurried to stand before her, where she skidded to execute a rather lackadaisical curtsey. “Nicholas read Lyon's letter to us, and I could hardly wait for you both to come!”

“Oh,” said Juliette. “You must be Emma?”

“
Oui! Bonjour
! That's French, and I learned even more from this book, so that we may have a conversation.” She held up a book that bore the title:
Conversational French for Young Ladies.

“Later, Emma, once Juliette has settled in,” Lyon interrupted. “Now tell me—have you been taking care of Liber and Ceres in my absence?”

“
Oui!
They'll be so pleased to see you!” This she flung over her shoulder as she rushed away toward the back of the house. Upon her departure, a man and woman appeared in the front doorway.

“You look ghastly,” the woman told Lyon, her face a picture of concern. She was pretty and petite, her arms barely reaching around his bulk as she hugged him in welcome.

“Your wife has quite the way with words,” Lyon told the man who accompanied her.

“Nevertheless, she's correct,” he replied.

This, she knew, from having peered into Lyon's brain, was his eldest sibling, Nicholas. At a village along their route, Lyon had posted a letter to him, informing him of the expected date of their arrival. Juliette had been worried about how she'd be received, but the woman and girl at least seemed friendly. However, Nicholas was a bit too handsome and intimidating to be as easily read.

Startling blue eyes suddenly pierced her as he directed a question her way. “What have you been doing to my brother?”

Surprised to be included in the conversation, and in such a way, Juliette foundered for a reply.

“Nursing me back to my current state of good health,” Lyon supplied before she could speak. “I assure you I looked far worse before my journey home with her began.”

The woman beamed at her then and came to take her hands. “Welcome, sister,” she said in a cultured voice. “I'm Jane, and this is my husband Nicholas, and the hoyden who dashed through here a moment ago is my sister Emma. Lyon has told you of our ties?”

“Yes.” Their eyes roved each other's faces, searching for similarities.

Jane hooked a companionable arm through hers and gazed wistfully around the great hall. “I would suggest that we have tea, but Lyon chooses to decorate rather sparsely which makes entertainments difficult. I hope you plan to make some improvements in his living situation, for sometimes I despair of him.”

“I have advised her she is free to do so,” Lyon put in.

Nicholas mumbled something that sounded like he was offering thanks to the heavens at this news.

“Only do not look to my eldest brother for decorative advice,” Lyon warned her, having overheard his brother. “For he chooses to reside in a museum.”

Nicholas' lips curved slightly at that, revealing a flash of white teeth. “At least a museum has adequate seating.”

“You're English?” Juliette enquired, swinging her eyes back to Jane.

She nodded, smiling. “Yes. And you're French, Lyon said in his letter. Our father certainly traveled far and wide to bring us about. Jordan is Italian. She's our third sister and will return to the fold soon I hope. Raine has just gone to retrieve her from Venice.”

These people were said to be secretive and clannish. Yet how readily they were taking her into their fold and assuming she and Lyon would wed.

“Raine has gone?” she heard Lyon ask, though it was more a statement than a question.

“
Si
. His need for a leave-taking is the reason I summoned you. He departed on his errand yesterday once we sensed you were within a day's range. Jordan is in some difficulties and left the estate on her own. He's gone after her of course, but he has left us with something to caretake in his absence.”

Lyon's eyes lit. “The grafted vines?”

Nicholas glanced at Juliette as if unsure she was to be trusted. Neither of them were aware she'd already gleaned this information and far more from Lyon in his hotel as he slept.

“You may speak freely in front of her. She knows all I've had time to tell her and I intend that she learn the rest sooner rather than later.”

Nicholas nodded, too easily satisfied. If she'd agreed to be an instrument of Valmont's deceit, they would have made her job easy.

“They're thriving,” he replied in answer to Lyon's implied question. “So far. We've got a dozen begun in the glen.”

“And how goes the auction?”

“We expect a hundred or so to congregate here for it and the unveiling of the new vines six weeks from now.”

“So soon?”

Nicholas shrugged. “Raine has promised to return with Jordan by then, and I trust that he will. Still, without him we're spread thin. We've yet to hire a chef and there are dozens of details to manage. With Jane involved with my son and household, there's been little time to orchestrate it all.”

“It's my responsibility,” said Lyon. “I'll deal with it now that I'm home. As it happens Juliette is an excellent cook and I have observed her to be supremely talented at organization on our travels.”

All eyes turned to her.

But she was shaking her head before he even finished.

“Have pity,” Lyon cajoled, his considerable charm ratcheting up a notch. “My brothers and I alternate in hosting duties. This season it's my turn and I'm hopeless at designing these things.”

“I assure you my brother doesn't lie,” said Nicholas, drawing a good-natured glower from his brother.

“Can't you hire someone to help?” said Juliette.

“I'm attempting to,” said Lyon.

Her heart began to race with excitement. To be put in charge of such an affair would be a dream come true. Even if she couldn't see it through to completion, she could set it on the right track for someone else to carry on afterward. “Who has done these things for you in the past?”

Lyon flicked a nonchalant hand in the air. “One chef or another. In all fairness, I warn you it's a large undertaking, requiring not only cooking skills but management skills as well. We hold these entertainments twice annually. Once one ends, planning for the next begins. However this is an additional, more modest function in order that we may introduce our solution to the phylloxera to other vintners and induce them to begin their own plantings come spring.”