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

Chapter Thirteen

L i-Na dreamt of a tiger watching a star-filled sky. The stars moved, the tiger waited, and she stayed hidden behind a shadow of her own making. She watched everything from behind this dark shield until—tired of doing nothing—she stepped out into the moonlight. At least that was her intention. Except the moment she moved from behind the shadow, it expanded to cover her. And it continued to blanket her no matter how far she ran, how high she leaped, or how low she scrambled to get around it.

That would have been bad enough but eventually the tiger heard her. He turned his head and she saw his eyes fix on hers. She knew it when his body rippled as he gathered his strength. Then he leaped, claws fully extended, straight at her.

She woke with a frightened cry and her feet tangled in her own bedding. Just a nightmare, she told herself, then she waited for her heart to steady and the squiggles to either push her into action or quiet inside her as they eased her back to sleep. It took a moment for her to realize that there was light coming in through the slats between boards in her window. Just how late was it?

She climbed out of bed and winced as she used her stiff muscles. She never did much physical work in London. There was some, of course. Up and down stairs, carting water for bathing, and the monotonous work of cleaning her bedroom. Here she’d climbed a cliff and walked for miles. No wonder she’d overslept.

She dressed as quickly as she could then headed out of her room into the workroom. No one was there. The doorway into his lordship’s bedchamber was open and the room empty. She was halfway through his room when she heard him outside. His voice carried, as well as that of Stefan. Curious, she stepped through the great room into the courtyard, walking slowly as she listened to their conversation.

It was filled with words she didn’t understand: mortar, talus, machicolations.

She found them soon enough squatting over a pile of rocks while holding sticks in their hand. If she had to guess, they were discussing architecture and ways to rebuild the crumbling side of the castle. She didn’t try to understand. Instead, she watched the way her tiger moved as he gestured or taught. He seemed to favor posing questions and waiting while the boy figured out the answer. He even got down on his knees and carefully balanced rocks on their small pile. And as Lord Daniel rocked back on his heels and waited, she was reminded of the tiger in her dream.

He watched. He waited. And when roused, he attacked. Or in this case, he challenged the boy beside him. He asked questions of the child, but never gave answers beyond a nod or a smile. It was all to make the child think and Li-Na found it surprising. The tutors in China had always forced the Zhong children to memorize names, dynasties, and important poems. They rarely challenged the children to think beyond the repetition of other people’s conclusions. And they always gave an indication of correct or incorrect.

Lord Daniel continued to surprise her, and this made him intriguing enough to enter her dreams. Or so she guessed. She watched them for a while, searching for similarities and differences between the two. She saw the way Lord Daniel straightened to his full height with one hand on his hip and another to gesture. She noted when Stefan stood in the exact same pose. She appreciated the sunlight as it turned his lordship’s brown hair to gold. She saw that he and Stefan both had light freckles and strong jaws. And most telling of all, they seemed to share a secret smile. It was in the tilt of the head matched with a twist of the lips. Not a full grin, not a deeply thoughtful expression, but a half-amused, half-intrigued kind of smile that reminded her of a cat in the cream.

And it was on both their faces as Lord Daniel turned to speak to her.

“Good morning. I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

“I apologize for sleeping late. I will begin work immediately.” She dipped in a bow. It was an old habit from childhood. She’d always done that whenever she’d been caught in a place she should not be.

“Don’t be silly,” he returned. “You worked extra hours yesterday, so you deserved this morning’s extra sleep. It’s my fault for looking at the stars so late last night.”

He hadn’t been looking at the stars. He’d been looking at her while she marveled at the night sky. And while she’d gloried in the sheer expanse of the heavens, a part of her had enjoyed the idea that he watched her. It reminded her of when she was young in China. She was fair enough of face and body that the boys had seen her. And though plenty of men had tried to get her attention in the gaming hell, Lord Daniel was the first to watch her without comment. He’d smiled in that cat-in-the-cream way while she stretched up on her toes as if to touch the sky.

And thought about kissing him under the star-filled sky.

He didn’t press her for more, and she didn’t give into temptation. Eventually, he’d extended his arm to her as they continued the walk back to the castle. He talked about sleeping on the moors as a boy and how he’d learned the names of the constellations by heart. It had been enchanting to hear his deep voice mix with the night. She listened to him while she continued to watch the sky, secure in the knowledge that he guided their steps. He would not let her fall.

That night in bed she felt a stirring of feelings inside her. Excitement, fear, interest, and heat. They came to her like old friends reminding her of the young girl she’d once been. Back when she’d been bold enough to kiss the Zhong eldest son. He was the only boy she’d ever loved, and she’d paid severely for her audacity. No servant kissed the eldest son. It was why she’d been tossed from the Zhong household and shackled on an English ship.

But now those feelings stirred again—when she looked into the tiger’s eyes—and she wondered how she would pay this time. Last time she’d lost her country and her home, not to mention what she’d endured on the ship. She had a life back in London. Good work and safety. Would she lose that now for the audacity of feeling something for a powerful man? Much better to suppress her feelings, or better yet, she should paint them away. But she didn’t have a brush in her hand, so she stood there and felt such things as if she were a teenager again.

It made her fidget as the squiggles in her belly danced.

Meanwhile, the boy stepped forward and bowed before her. “Good morning, Miss Li-Na.”

She smiled at the young man. “Good morning, Master Stefan. Have you figured out your castle problems?”

He grimaced. “I figured out one problem, but uncle keeps pointing out more.”

“That’s the problem with life,” his uncle said. “The moment you surmount one obstacle, three more appear.” Then he dropped his hand on the top of Stefan’s head and physically turned the boy’s head back to the castle. “You keep working on our model. Figure out how to create the strongest wall while I show Miss Li-Na what came with the post this morning.”

The boy nodded and ran back to his task while Lord Daniel gestured for her to precede him into the castle. Li-Na went easily, knowing the path now. How strange that she had no qualm about him standing behind her today. Indeed, her skin tingled sweetly at the thought of him there. Meanwhile, Lord Daniel turned back to address his nephew.

“Don’t climb on anything!” he cried.

“I promise!” came the response.

Lord Daniel snorted. “He promises, but he forgets. If I don’t check on him in twenty minutes, he’ll be halfway up the wall trying to see if he could build a turret.”

“Boys have notoriously short memories.” It was the best comment she could think of, given that she had no idea what a turret was.

“Have you had anything to eat? There are some more eggs.”

“No thank you, my lord. Last night’s dinner was large enough.”

He nodded as he held open the door to the great room. “There’s bread and cheese when you’re ready. And Mrs. Hocking will be here in a few hours too.”

“I am fine, thank you.” She knew how to make her own tea. “I will get to work—”

“In a moment,” he said as he gently steered her to the kitchen. “Stefan brought something this morning. I was going to carry it to the workroom, but the child got me talking about castles and then we were outside.”

His words had the playful growl of a cat attacking a toy. It rumbled through him without meaning any real threat, and she smiled at the image.

“Here it is!” he declared as they entered the kitchen. He gave a sweeping gesture to indicate a long thin box and a large paper-wrapped square on the table.

She frowned. Why would he give her a gift?

“Open it!”

She should have guessed what it was. She should have known, but she was busy fighting the spinning, giddy spasm of squiggles in her belly. A gift. For her. When was the last time anyone had given her anything? Even Mrs. Dove-Lyon—arguably her closest friend in England—gave food and fun to all her employees at Christmas in a special party. No one got an individual gift from her. Not even Li-Na.

And yet here was Lord Daniel gesturing to the packages, clearly impatient with her reticence.

“I…I don’t understand.”

“That’s because you haven’t opened it.”

He pushed the packages toward her and grinned as she began to unwrap the long thing one.

Brushes. A dozen different kinds for oil painting or watercolors. All expensive. And beside it, several different colors of paint.

“The black ink is there,” he said pointing to a dark bottle. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got an assortment.”

She nodded, her head spinning. These were not her tools. They were not the kind of brushes designed for Chinese calligraphy or painting, but they would serve. Indeed, she’d been buying such brushes ever since she came to England because they were the only kind sold here.

“And this package,” she said as she touched the larger square. “It is paper?”

“Yes. The finest quality I could find. You could have canvas, too, if you prefer—”

“No.”

“And I bought watercolor paints, but if you want to try your hand at oils—”

“No.”

He looked at her and frowned. “You do not seem pleased.”

She didn’t know what she felt. He had given her a gift. One that she valued. She ought to be giddy with happiness. This was a treasure trove of supplies that she could not afford on her own. But instead of feeling grateful, she felt her gut sinking.

“This is another ruse,” she said. “So that I will paint something you can sell.”

“You could think of it that way,” he said slowly. “Or you could see that I am simply providing something you need to enjoy yourself. You need not touch them if you don’t want to.”

A silly statement. How could she resist new brushes? How could she not experiment with the paints before her? And the paper…

She unwrapped the package of paper with trembling hands. There was a variety, but most were of the thin variety as close to rice paper as she’d ever seen. The thicker paper was made for watercolors, and, she now noticed, came from the same London company where she shopped.

“I asked after the finest papermaker in London,” Lord Daniel said. “This is from him.”

“Yes,” she said as she stroked the edge of the nearest piece. “I know the shop.”

“If you prefer something else,” he began, but she abruptly looked up.

“How do you know what kind of paper I like? How do you know I want brushes?”

“I don’t. I guessed.” Then he shrugged. “Remember, I saw you painting in Hyde Park. I saw what you used.”

A shiver went down her spine. “You remembered the paper, the brushes?”

“Of course, I remembered. I had never seen anything like what you make.”

He was not the first who had tried to speak with her. Several had tried over the years, but she had rebuffed them all. How had she not realized she’d been watched by a tiger?

“I didn’t get a chance to say much more than ‘hello’ before you packed up and left.”

It was rare for people to talk with her when she painted. It happened, but not often. She learned early that the best way to handle them—especially determined gentlemen—was to gather her supplies quickly and leave. And then she would find a different spot to paint the next morning. No one had ever followed her except him. He had pursued her enough to find out where she worked and negotiate a deal with Mrs. Dove-Lyon.

The tiger had stalked her, and she had not been afraid. Was it because she hadn’t known he was a tiger then? Or because he wasn’t dangerous to her?

She felt the shadows burst from her, quivering around her like fierce little dogs. She slowly withdrew her hand from the packages.

“I should return to my work,” she said.

“I meant no offense,” he said.

She knew that. She could see it in his face and hear it in his voice. Why, then, was she suddenly anxious, surrounded by her shadows, and trying desperately to shrink away?

“How long have you been planning on bringing me here?”

“Since Mrs. Dove-Lyon suggested it. She said you needed a holiday.”

Yes, that was absolutely what the woman would say. Indeed, she had said it.

“I don’t understand why you’re upset,” he pressed. “These are for you to use as you want. I won’t take them from you. Indeed, I won’t even be here.”

Her gaze snapped up to his. “What? Where are you going?”

“Back to London,” he said. “I cannot let Lord Gordon win guardianship over Stefan. I’m bringing the boy with me, and we’re going to figure out how to stop it.”

He was leaving now? After showing her the wonder of the night sky, he was now abandoning her? Good lord, her thoughts were jumbled. One moment she was giddy, the next suspicious, and now she was frightened of being left here alone.

“You’ll be perfectly safe,” he said. “Mrs. Hocking will come as usual. She can get you anything you want. There’s the gardener who’s out there most days, but mind you stay upwind from him on account of his smell.” He rolled his eyes. “It wouldn’t be so bad if only he stopped eating all those onions. Nessie’s nearby. She’ll come check on you, too. And there are footmen and maids from the manor home that are always looking for something to do if you need a companion or a guide.”

“No!” She shuddered at the idea of relying on a stranger to take her places or—worse—to stare at her while she did her work. It had been hard enough accepting his company and he had worked extra hard to treat her as a lady. Others wouldn’t be a courteous, she was sure.

“I won’t be gone more than a week. Use the time to explore.” He smiled. “If you don’t want to use these supplies, go back down to the beach. Whatever pleases you, so long as you don’t go out alone at night. It’s easy to get lost out there if you don’t know the path.”

“I will be careful.”

He nodded, then he glanced back toward the courtyard. “I need to get back out there. By now, Stefan is probably testing what heights he can jump from without hurting himself.”

She nodded. “I will return to my work.” But she didn’t leave yet. Her feet remained stubbornly rooted to the floor. “My lord?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“You saw me paint once and decided to bring me here?”

He winced. “I decided your work was exquisite and I wanted to know more. A lot more.”

What an interesting, frightening, exciting thing. Her emotions would not settle on a single reaction to that, and so she stood there with her hands tight to her belly and her head slightly bowed as she wrestled with her conflicting feelings.

“I really need to get back out there. Are you all right?”

“I am perfectly well,” she lied. “When do you leave?”

“The day after tomorrow. But never fear, I won’t be under your feet today or tomorrow. Too much to do before I depart.”

So saying, he scooped up her packages. All together, they were undoubtably heavy, but he carried them as if they were nothing. He walked quickly ahead of her to the workroom. Then he set them down on top of a crate of vases tucked in the back of the room.

“I’ll just leave these here. If you want to use them, they are for you. If not, then they’re out of the way.”

He smiled, bowed to her in the most general of ways, and left the room. Yesterday, she would have thought nothing of his actions. She would have been relieved that he’d left her alone. She would not have noticed the cat-in-the-cream smile he had as he departed. She would have been too busy starting her work to follow his face as he turned away.

But she had, and now she couldn’t stop thinking of his smile. Yesterday it had been his tiger eyes. Today, it was his smile. What would tomorrow bring?