Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Chapter Twelve

D aniel’s favorite time of day was the evening when he walked the moors. It gave him time to rest his mind. His feet knew the path well and though he carried a lantern to light the way, this was the essence of him: a man so small beneath the heavens who yet dared to shine a light on all that he thought was beautiful.

Tonight, he walked it with Li-Na, and he had an agenda. He sought to shine his light on her thought process because what he’d heard during the carriage ride disturbed him. It also served to distract him from how much he wanted to kiss her beneath the moonlight.

“I overheard your talk with Nessie,” he began. “Can you tell me why you want her to hire bodyguards?”

Li-Na turned her face to him. She was lit mostly by the lantern because the moon was a small sliver in the starlit sky. “She is afraid someone will take her children away. Mrs. Dove-Lyon knows professionals—most were in the army—who will protect her and her children.”

The idea of surrounding his family with armed guards repelled him. “Why would you think she needs that? We are not a country where guns are required to defend a woman and her children.”

Li-Na stared at him, her steps slowing. It was as if he could read her mind as she struggled with whether to speak her thoughts or retreat into silence.

“I’m not angry. I want to know the truth.”

She grimaced. “Why should she allow someone to take her children without fighting for them?”

“Of course, she is to fight! That’s why she brought it to my attention. But I’m not going to hire men with guns. That’s absurd.”

He saw a flash of fury in her eyes, then she abruptly dropped her gaze to the ground as she bowed her head. “I apologize.”

She was acting like a servant again, and he stifled a curse of frustration. She was a foreigner to this land. He should not be so upset that her thoughts were not his own. But it gnawed at him, and he wasn’t even sure why.

“In China, do men take what they want with guns?”

“All over the world, men take what they want with guns.” Her gaze lifted for a brief moment. “I only sought to tell her that there was a way she could have guns, too.”

“She doesn’t need them,” he said vehemently. “Not in England.”

Li-Na remained silent long enough that he stopped and faced her directly. “I hate it when you swallow your own thoughts. It’s rude.”

She arched her brows in surprise, and no wonder. Keeping one’s thoughts to oneself wasn’t rude. Indeed, it was the only way to survive in polite society. But he wanted to know the truth of her, and so he pressed her.

“It’s not rude,” he hedged. “But I hate it nonetheless.”

She nodded slowly, and when she finally spoke, her words were hesitant. “Without guns, will the countess keep control of her children?”

He sighed. “She doesn’t have control of her children now. I am their natural guardian as her husband’s brother, but Lord Gordon—that’s Nessie’s father—means to change that.”

“A woman has no rights.”

He nodded. That was the way the law worked. A woman could not have legal responsibility for her children, and he now recognized how absurd that was. He turned, kicking a stone out of the path as they began walking again.

“Lord Gordon won’t use guns, but he’ll get Stefan anyway. The boy signed a paper. He didn’t know what it was. His grandfather asked him to sign, so he did.” He shook his head at the stupidity of allowing that to happen. He blamed himself, of course. He should have pushed the church court to do the paperwork right away, but he never guessed that Nessie’s father would claim guardianship.

“I don’t understand.”

He extended his arm to her to help her jump over a marshy section. “He’s twelve years old. He gets to choose his guardian. Apparently, his grandfather got him to sign a paper claiming he wanted him.”

“Can he sign a different paper?”

“Yes. And I will draw up the paperwork as soon as possible.” He grimaced. “That last thing that boy needs is Lord Gordon controlling his estates.”

“He is a bad man?”

Yes, absolutely. That was Daniel’s gut reaction, but the truth was much harder to parse. “He is arrogant. He thinks he knows best about everything and anyone who disagrees is cut from his circle without quarter.”

At Peder and Nessie’s wedding breakfast, he and Lord Gordon had disagreed about the so-called savages in India. Given that Daniel had actually visited India, he had assumed the older man would trust his judgement that the Indian people were not “dirty animals.” He was wrong, and the disagreement had colored their relationship ever since. As in, they had never spoken to one another without the subject coming back up. His lordship constantly mocked Daniel as being hopelessly backward in his thinking.

“But I don’t know that he would be a bad guardian for Stefan,” he admitted. “And I agree with him that Stefan should go to school this fall.”

“And does Stefan’s mother have any say in her son’s life?”

“With me as guardian, she would.”

“Because you would give it to her. But you could change your mind or simply ignore her if you chose.”

Daniel winced. “Yes. That is the way the law is written.”

Li-Na shook her head. She didn’t even have to say a word for him to know what she was thinking. In a barbaric land, a woman with guns could defend her children. But England was a civilized land where such things weren’t tolerated. And so men took a woman’s children away without ever having to draw blood. All it took was a spy who twisted some facts, and a woman could be painted as unfit. Or worse, as a witch. It simply happened, and he had never thought about that before now.

“I will fight Lord Gordon in court. There is no need for Nessie to hire armed guards.”

“She said as much,” Li-Na commented. “Besides, you said the power is with the boy to determine who he wants and why.”

“The power is with the ecclesiastical court, but they will listen to the boy.” He hoped. Lord Gordon had many powerful friends who might rule in his favor despite whatever Stefan said.

“Then the countess must teach her son to fight with her.”

Daniel groaned. “Except that will never work. A boy who wishes to stay with his mother will be ignored. He’s twelve years old. It is expected that he cut the apron strings and go to school.”

“The child’s voice will be heard only if he says what you want him to say?”

“Yes.” He hated that she had a point. Nevertheless, it was the system they had, and if Nessie wanted any say in her son’s life, Daniel needed to be the boy’s guardian. He looked at Li-Na. “Is it different in China?”

She shrugged. “I was sent to the Zhong family when I was seven. I never saw my parents again. No one fought for me, and no one listened to what I wanted.” She smiled. “Whatever the result, Stefan is a fortunate son.”

Daniel stared at her, his heart beating painfully in his throat. What would that have been like at seven years old? To be thrown into a new family, abandoned by those who loved and cared for you? “How did you stand it?”

“The tutor put a brush in my hand and told me to paint whatever I felt. A black slash for anger. A dot for a smile. Some days were all black. Some days had many dots.”

Here he received his greatest wish. He learned the mind behind her art, and he was struck dumb. So much pain in her life. She’d been thrust into the world at seven years old. And yet not only had she survived, she had found a way to put her feelings on canvas. Did the art she created give her the ability to live? Or was her life what she expressed on the page? It was hard to tell, and truthfully, it was probably both, art and life fully intertwined.

“Will you paint something please?” he asked, the words rushed. “I don’t need to sell it. I just want to see it.”

“So you can read my inner thoughts? So you can know what I feel when I feel it?”

Yes! A thousand times yes! “If you are willing to share it.”

She shook her head. She didn’t want to share. And yet, her mouth worked differently. She opened her lips as if to deny him, but then closed it again. And by her sides, her hands opened and closed. They tucked tight to her belly, then pressed back along her thighs. She was distressed, and he wanted to ease her fears, but he couldn’t take back his request.

Finally, she whispered. “I don’t know you.”

He smiled. “I will answer all your questions, show you whatever you want to see.” He laughed. “In truth, there isn’t much to me. I admire art, I buy and sell art, but I can’t create it on my own. I am nothing compared to you. Very dull, in fact.”

She rolled her eyes. “False modesty does not become you.”

It wasn’t false. The greatest failure in his life was the inability to draw. He was wretched at it and at all other artistic endeavors. He could barely carry a tune. “I am an admirer of other people’s talent. It’s all I can do.”

She didn’t answer and they began walking again beside one another. Eventually her words came. They were whispered, but he heard them nonetheless.

“It is just squiggles on paper,” she said.

“Then that is all I will see. You were just playing in the sand this afternoon.”

“It was terrible.”

“Not to me. I’ve never seen something like that before.”

She laughed, the sound more like a puff of air than voice. “You haven’t seen the true art of China. I am nothing compared to them.”

He let the lantern drop then. His arm was tired, and he let it swing to the far side such that the night enfolded them more closely. “I want to see your art,” he said. “Not theirs.”

“Then you are a backwards kind of man.”

She wasn’t the first to say something like that. “Very well,” he confessed. “I want to see theirs too, but as they are not here, I shall have to content myself with yours.”

They continued on in silence for a bit until they made it to his favorite spot on the path. The village was hidden by a turn, the trees were sparse, and the ocean too far away to hear clearly.

“Will you stop with me a moment?” he asked.

“You are my guide. I must stop when you do.”

A practical answer. “I am going to shutter the lantern so it will be full dark. Don’t be afraid.”

He darkened the lantern until the night surrounded them completely. The sky stretched full and wide above them. And here, they could stand in awe of God’s artistry. She was already looking up when he straightened to his full height. Her hands were placed to her mouth as she scanned the sky.

He looked upward for a moment, but he was already familiar with the view. What he wanted this night was to see her as she looked around. Even in the dark, he could see the outline of her body, guess at the way she held her breath, and watch as she slowly turned to see the whole vista.

“I have never seen so many stars,” she said, her voice awed. “London is never like this.”

Definitely not. “Do you feel small?” he asked. “I used to beneath that sky, but now I feel like the universe is very big, very impressive, and that I am part of it.”

She looked back to him. “You are a tiger, majestic in your way and powerful over your corner of the jungle. But this…” She looked back up. “This is a very large jungle.”

He didn’t fully understand what she said, but he loved hearing her speak it. “If I am a tiger, what are you?”

“Squiggles,” she said. “I am the source of squiggles and shadows. And in a universe like this, I could pour out every bit of my darkness, and still not dim the light. Not one tiny bit.” She laughed and spun around, her arms opening as she moved. Slowly at first, but then she raised them high as if stretching for the stars. “Thank you for showing me this!”

He watched her turning, her head thrown back. She was happy, and her joy sparked his.

She laughed. “We could be the only people in the world.”

That would be enough for him. Her and him in a whole, wild world.

That was a jarring thought given how little he knew of her. And yet at this moment, he felt it with his whole being. Some of her hair had escaped its pins and now spread out behind her as she looked up. Her body was arched, her arms twisting above her as she seemed to stroke a brush through the sky. Was she painting what she saw? What she felt? Did she even realize that her body was as much art as the things she drew? She was a woman absorbed in what she lived, and he was mesmerized by the experience.

He didn’t know how long he stood there watching her. Long enough for the cold to set in. Long enough for her arms to dangle and her eyes close with a happy sigh. Long enough for him to want to touch her. He wanted to hear that same sigh come from his caress and his kiss. It was natural, he supposed, to want to possess her in so carnal a way. And yet he kept himself back from her as if his touch would spoil the beauty of what she was.

And yet the longer he stood there watching her, the more his body throbbed with desire. He longed to experience her in every way possible, but only if he could do such a thing without altering who she was inside. It was impossible, of course. No man could possess a woman without changing her. But oh, how desperately he wanted to try.

Against his will, he began to plot her seduction. He wanted not only her art, but her heart and her body as well. Not tonight, of course. It was too soon. So he stepped back and lost himself in her beauty. But in the back of his mind, he stalked her as carefully as any tiger.