The Lyon and his Lioness (DigitalSiren x Vinaein)

[Bunny]

I mustn't allow them to know the real me. Christina felt like a doe walking willingly into a den of wolves. She had only been in England for a month, most of that time sequestered in her great aunt's home, her aunt not wanting anyone to see her before the new season began. During that month, her aunt had begrudgingly fashioned her with dresses for the season to come. Christina had not wished to put her great aunt out, but the woman, who was known to all the ton as a woman with a cold, bitter and ugly heart wouldn't hear of it. It was not out of the kindness of her heart that the old woman insisted on the dresses, no, her eyes lay elsewhere.

"Stop fidgeting girl!" The raspy, sharp voice of Lady Rosaline bit through the darkness of the carriage and Christina stopped her fidgeting at once, "Yes Ma'am," her sweet voice came from the dark. Christina hated carriages, the close walls, the thin planes of glass and most of all, the sickly sweet scent of her aunt's perfume. Though, Christina would never tell the old woman this. In fact, despite the somewhat cruel nature of her aunt and her barbed remarks, Christina never said a word against her, answering always in her sweet tone, bending to the woman's every demand.

The rocking of the carriage came to a stop and the door was pulled open by the footman. Fresh, cool air brushed her cheeks and Christina waited for her aunt to exit the carriage first before putting a small, silk gloved hand into that of the footman's. Christina wanted nothing more than to gulp the fresh air greedily, but that wouldn't become a lady of good breeding. Even here, outside the house before them, she could feel eyes on her. This would be her third party of the season and it seemed that people flocked to her. She was kind, polite and the very essence of beauty, at least that was what she'd either been told or overheard.

Already the news of her lineage had spread like wildfire across the ton. She was the daughter of a prince! That would make her a princess. No matter how often Christina tried to deny the title of princess, the more it seemed to spread and she found herself tired of trying to explain. Her father had indeed been Prince Lucas, but Christina had never known the man, beyond the letters her mother had left her. Besides, it was rude to correct people. Christina could hear the music before the door before them was gently pulled open, the laughter and hum of conversation only revealed after it's opening. Christina always felt butterflies in her stomach as she entered these parties and the feeling didn't fade till she was once safely back in her rooms.

Entering with Lady Rosaline, she and her guardian began to make the rounds. Rosaline kept a firm grip on her arm, as she steered her niece to those she deemed worthy of meeting her. This however would only last so long before her aunt foisted her off, claiming her bones hurt. Tonight Lord Rugby was the gentleman who led her around the room, making introductions. Lord Rugby was a kind man with warm eyes and a quick smile, Christina had liked him right away. She had grown fond of the way his rich baritone sounded, reminding her of someone from home. "May I say my dear, tonight you are ravishing" A soft chuckle left her and dove grey eyes rose to meet his own chestnut brown, "Thank you sir, you are far too kind." A smile played along her lips.

"Oh my goodness!" Genevieve Lyon gasped, tugging on Michael's arm in a very unladylike way. Her brassy golden locks bouncing with her excitement. "Lyon, the princess is here!" her 'hushed' whisper was anything but, as she pointed towards the woman in question. As if noticing her behavior, Genevieve squeaked and dropped her hand, still looking at the princess. She looked like an angel, everyone was right. Even from a distance, with only her profile in view she could tell of the beauty that had been whispered about for days. Her skin was pale, perhaps a shade brighter than her white dress. Her hair was raven and bound behind her head, with loose, romantic curls tumbling around her face, and over one shoulder.

Lord Rugby had seen Genevieve's reaction and had hid a smile. He had been a good friend of Lyon's father and had known both Michael and Genevieve since birth. He now did business with Michael, who he was shocked to find under the glittering roof of a member of the ton. Rather than question it, he drew Christina away from Lord and Lady Weatherby, Christina bidding them farewell. "I would like you to meet a friend of mine," Lord Rugby told her and she inclined her head, "I would love to." Patting her arm in a fatherly fashion, Lord Ruby led her before Genevieve and Michael Lyon. "May I introduce Princess Christina," Christina's head inclined, a curl slipping over her shoulder, brushing her collarbone. "This is Michael Lyon, Marquess of Lyonwood and his lovely sister, new to the ton this season as well, Genevieve" Her eyes moved to Genevieve first, a smile curling along her pale pink lips.

Christina truly was a beauty, despite her own misgivings on the subject. Her black hair was so dark it reflected the light odd it in blues and purples, like a raven's wing. It only made her pale skin seem paler, like alabaster had been breathed to life. Her pale lips were naturally a pale, rose petal pink, though even tonight they had been darkened a smidge. They tended to curl at the edges as if Christina knew a secret no one else knew. Her eyes were the palest of grey, soft and warm, shrouded by thick heavy lashes. Delicate bone structure and petite frame made her look like a doll an aristocrat might buy their child from a fancy shop. Her dress was a pale snow white, height of fashion as it rested off her shoulders, leaving them bare. It was unadorned until it reached halfway down her skirt, where gems had been sewn into it, small starburst like patterns in varying sizes danced around her skirt.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Genevieve," Perhaps Lyon would find it odd, how she didn't seem to have a placeable accent, her voice gentle and soft. Her eyes flickered to Lyon, taking in his dark features, flickering to his scar and then down to his mouth before meeting his eyes once more. Christina inclined her head to him, "It is a pleasure to meet you both." Lord, he is handsome. Christina couldn't help but admire his features and found him to be unreasonably attractive. His scar, only added to her attraction, her eyes flickering to it again. He was a warrior, this lion. No one should be so handsome..

 

[Vinaein]

"You promised you'd be on your best behavior," Genevieve Lyon reminded her brother, a playful smile tugging at her lips as the Marquess of Lyonwood fixed his coat, staring at himself in the vanity. His eyes, a deep and rich golden-brown with a leonine quality, stared back at him while he could not help but imitate her smile, adjusting his sleeves, the trim of his coat, his cravat and then his hair. Brushing a hand through the dark black strands, he tugged it back to fasten it with a dark band, drawing himself up to his full height as his sister gave a soft giggle. "Yes, you look very handsome, don't you, Michael?"

Michael Lyon, 12th Marquess of Lynwood, indeed cut a dashing figure. Standing taller than his sister, his hair was raven-dark as opposed to the brassy, metallic sheen that Genevieve bore, his smile mingling cleverness and charm together, his body tight and muscular beneath the finery. One might have been forgiven for mistaking him for a soldier at first glance, the Marquess shunning personal fripperies in favor of practicality. But still, he had promised to attend this party, all abuzz with gossip, as befit his most recent distinguished honor of knighthood. And besides... "Have I ever broken a vow to you, Gene?" He asked with flick to his lip, the quirk of an eyebrow, grinning even as he knew it only enhanced the look of the distinctive scar upon his face.

His sister laughed at that, her eyes gleaming as she responded to the playful tone in her brother's voice, a hand covering her full lips as she hid the smile. "Only four hundred times," she reminded him with a prim set to her voice, a quirk of her chin to stare haughtily at him. "As I recall, you once slipped from the tea you promised to share with me at noon to train in swords in the courtyard, dear Michael."

"We were children," Michael couldn't hide the laughter now. Genevieve always had a way of drawing forth some of his best qualities, making him feel noble when he saw himself through her eyes. Even if she could be so delightfully blase about certain things, while holding an eternal grudge on others. "Inform me, dear Genevieve, any intriguing gossip in court?"

"Would you believe a princess?" Genevieve laughed while Michael's interest was piqued. There were rumors about his true activities, his pursuit of plotters, criminals and traitors to the throne, to Parliament and to Britain, his nickname as the Queen's Lion a well earned one. He had a desire for Genevieve to never know the unsavory aspects of his work, to never know how ruthless her brother could be in his concealed life. Just as he was bent on her not finding out his true purpose for the fete tonight.

There had been unsavory rumors over several of the Barons in attendance and Michael had confirmed several were true. He had a job to do, in the guise of providing a chaperoning for his beloved sister. Genevieve would likely be furious if she knew, perhaps to degrees where she may never forgive him. but that was the risk one took for queen and country, the risk he took to keep Lyonwood solvent and prospering. There were a number of servants and people within the estates and their lands who depended on them, an entire nation he provided the bedrock for. "A princess?" Michael asked with a scoffing laugh. "I haven't heard of others of the royal family- "

"Oh, brother, you truly must keep up with the local gossip more!" Genevieve clicked her tongue, despairing at Michael's hopelessness. "The daughter of Prince Lucas if you can believe it!" Michael was wholly unsure he did, just lifting his eyebrow and providing a light shrug. "Now, provide a proper escort, like a gentleman, wouldn't you?" Every inch the regal gentleman, Michael offered his arm to his sister, her own delicate hand closing on the corded forearm as they departed, Genevieve in her billowing gown while she began to hum pleasantly.

Michael helped her to the carriage, a short distance passing in wordless silence as Michael contemplated his dawning mission. Baron Martinet was not a foolish man, he thought. He would be in attendance, but well guarded. A few well placed bribes and threats had loosened the tongues of his couriers, very incriminating letters now concealed within Michael's desk, letters that could be burnt if the Baron was to handle this accordingly. Michael simply needed a moment to whisper the right words to him, provoke him to flight and then arrange the trap before drawing it shut.

Of course, he had to handle it without Genevieve hurt, or raising suspicion, he reminded himself as the gleaming lights of the fete sparked against the night, the coach drawing to a stop. The music was in full swing, the laughter and charming words all about them as Michael gave pleasant nods, even as sweet Genevieve rushed to socialize, laughing merrily while accepting an early glass of pale wine.

Barely had they made the rounds, Michael's eyes closing about when Genevieve gasped out. "The princess is here!" Michael followed her gaze to behold the woman there, garbed in white, with jet black hair, perhaps darker than his own, painstakingly arranged. Lord Rugby as well; now that did Michael's heart good to see the old man, with his grandfatherly smile, warm demeanor and kindness...he had been almost a fond uncle to the Lyon children since their youth, always treating them kindly. The old man was drawing the mysterious princess close, ""May I introduce Princess Christina," Lord Ruby remarked as Michael greeted the old man. "This is Michael Lyon, Marquess of Lyonwood and his lovely sister, new to the ton this season as well, Genevieve."

He had to admit, this so-called princess was ravishing, but he didn't know anything about her. Michael did not like ignorance, it was often the first cousin of unfortunate ends. He made a mental note to research her more, but now he performed the most splendid bow, taking her hand to kiss while his eyes flicked about for the good Baron. "Milady," he said. "Or shall I address you as 'Your Grace?'" He straightened back with a honeyed smile upon his lips, staring into her eyes, slightly caught for a moment. God above, he thought, but she was ravishing. "We are indeed newly arrived, staying not far from here." Michael, of course, did not care to be under the same roof as those who might have used Genevieve against him and it suited him better to maintain a healthy distance from potential opponents. "Please, do tell me...how did you and our old friend come to be acquainted? What brings you here? You're on the lips of everyone these days, I would so love to get to know the woman behind the rumors!"

 

[Bunny]

Hand taken in Michael's Christina smiled slightly, though where any other young woman might blush, she did not. Nor did she seem to be frightened of him as other young women of the ton had been. "Christina is fine," her reply soft, her smile growing a fraction. She didn't like the titles that these people thrust upon her. Princess, Your Grace, Lady... Her father was indeed a prince. The prince of Prussia and not many knew that he was married, though some might have remembered her mother, Lady Maria. So a child of his would have been unusual news. His smile is charming. Christina couldn't help but find things about the man before her attractive, which rather than making her smile more, drew a frown to her lips. She couldn't get entangled with Lyon. She knew nothing of his services, nor his reputation. However, she was almost positive he was a dangerous man.

Listening to Lyon speak, her frown had smoothed away for the moment as he informed them that they had also recently arrived as well. His next question however was met with cool eyes. Questions were dangerous and Christina didn't lie. Where she had been raised, lying was not permitted. However, they might forgive her lies, if it meant her safety in this world of wolves. "My aunt introduced us," Christina's face turned to Lord Rugby, "Two fetes ago?" Her sweet voice held a question and the old man chuckled and nodded, petting her hand that rested on his arm. "Just so my dear."

It seemed though that Lyon was not one to leave well enough alone. "I have just come to live with my aunt" She said no more on the subject, dancing around the real meat of his questions. "Perhaps another time," Her smile was still soft, but it didn't match her eyes as she regarded Michael warily. "If you will excuse me, I should check on my aunt," Inclining her head she shifted away from the three and melted into the crowd. She was a small woman to be sure, but she normally stood out and yet, she had seemed to vanish. "Charming young woman, wouldn't you agree?" Lord Rugby said, his eyes shifting to Lyon. He knew of the man's past and even his current dalliances. This was the ton, no one's life was secret and gossip was a professional hobby among the elite.

Heart racing she didn't dare look back. She had felt his eyes on her as she had dismissed him and walked away. They were gone now, for she had employed a tick she had learned from her brother. He is dangerous. More than just being the only warrior in these lands... he is clever. Too clever with his questions. I shall need to be careful. Christina had come to these lands for one reason and Michael Lyon had no place in her plans.

Christina did not seek out her aunt right away, needing a moment to compose herself. Something about Lyon had unsettled her greatly. So instead she slipped out onto the terrace, breathing in the night air. This city was too cramped. Too many bodies pressed in on one another. It unsettled her and the parties were almost as bad as the infernal carriages. At least she was alone on the balcony. Christina figured she could linger her a while longer before she and her aunt made their apologies for leaving early. Her aunt wouldn't care, not really and it meant she could escape the golden gaze of Lyon.

The small terrace was surrounded with night blooming flowers, their sweet scent filling the air. Moving towards the railing, she brushed her fingers over a bloom, the silken petals flexing gently as she stroked them. Flowers like this were new to her, they didn't have any like this where she was from. They were delicate blooms of moonlight, their pale color almost glowing as the moon slipped from behind clouds, illuminating the terrace. Behind her she could hear laughter and music, though faint. Christina inhaled, holding her breath for a moment. I should go back...

 

[Vinaein]

To Michael's relief, there was little fear in the eyes of this Princess Christina. Well, that made a nice change from others in the ton, he decided with a charming smile still spread upon his lips. "Then Christina it will be. I insist you call me 'Michael,'....Lyon of Lyonwood can get so dreary as a title, Christina," he said. Genevieve stepped closer, clearly delighted. "Ah, and my sister, Genevieve, or 'Gene' as I am wont to call her!" he said as he squeezed her shoulder.

"And charmed, milady," Genevieve performed a luxurious curtsy, Michael's eyes briefly scanning the crowd as he murmured a rough ascent to something Lord Rugby mentioned. He hadn't known of a visiting princess, this information could be vital. Was he getting careless? Losing his edge? "Ah, aunt, of course!" He said. "Family connections, it seems so common in places like this!" He could detect some uncertainty, maybe reluctance in Christina to answer, making him decide to file that away for future knowledge. Not that he saw her as a threat...but one could never know.

"Please..." he said upon Christina's permission to recuse herself. "You hardly need my leave to go," he added as she departed, turning to Rugby soon after. "Charming indeed," he murmured, not appreciating his old friend's tone. This may have been the ton, the crust of upper society where secrets did not exist, but some things were not spoken of aloud. Michael did not care for his personal affairs discussed by or even known to others. He found himself on the hunt, excusing himself to vanish into the crowd as he located Baron Martinet, seeing the man dancing by with another, waiting for the music to end, the Baron to head to take a drink.

And so Michael passed by him, briefly taking his hand. He leaned to whisper into the man's ear, "A little bird told me of letters, Baron. I have them well hidden. Do not leave without speaking to me in an hour in your apartments," he whispered. He left off the man, leaving him frozen. Oh, the baron would be there. They always were, Michael thought with a touch of ruthless satisfaction.

The party suddenly seemed stifling, painted faces ceasing to thrill him. He accepted compliments from several men, passing by and bowing gallantly to several women before he realized he needed air. He excused himself out, walking to a balcony, to a terrace and....there she was, the mysterious princess, wreathed in the moonlight and brushing her hands to the flowers. Michael found himself slightly amused as he walked over. "Good evening," he said delicately, cutting a dashing figure as he strolled over. "I needed some air...I did not intend to startle you?" He made himself look as casual as possible. "Enjoying yourself, Christina?"

 

[Bunny]

Christina had heard someone at the door, but she didn't turn until she heard his voice. Her head turned slightly and when she saw Michael, she bit a sigh. Why is it the one man I wish to be the furthest from is the one who finds me now? It was a lie however, Christina was attracted to Michael, and that annoyed her. He was a wrench in her plans. Dark lashes were lowered, her chin near her shoulder before she shook her head looking back out over the gardens. Christina was forgetting the rules of this world. To be alone with him could cause a sandal, something she had no need, nor time for. "No, you did not startle me," was the only answer from the raven haired female.

Even when he questioned her a second time, she did not answer. At least not at first. It was complicated and Christina knew what her answer should be. She should have told him yes, she was having a fabulous time, like any new girl thrust upon the ton, in search of a match. That was the only thing Christina had in common with the other young women. She was also looking for a match. She even might have considered Michael, but something told her he would not be manageable. She needed someone who would do as she asked, without question and Christina was sure that the lion beside her would not be agreeable on either front.

Turning to face him, her eyes traced his scar. Other women saw it as disfiguring, Christina might not have met him before tonight, but she had heard of him. She couldn't understand why a mark of valor would be dismissed as something less than it was. Those who had raised her had taught her differently. Christina wished to ask how he had come about such a scar, but she reminded herself she didn't care. The tips of her fingers itched, and despite lying to herself, she did want to know. She wanted to remove her infernal gloves and run her delicate fingers along that scar.

Her eyes darkened, like storm clouds rolling through her gaze. "You are too distracting," Christina announced and turned to leave with no further comment. What he would be left with was the light fragrance of the moonflowers and a hint of spice. Christina felt safer within the party suddenly than she had outside alone with him. Dangerous. She repeated in her mind. He was far too dangerous. Finding her aunt, they made their goodbyes to their hosts before leaving. Once more into the tiny carriage and then home. Christina counter her blessings they had agreed to only attend one party that night.

--♡--​

It would be several nights before Christina attended another party. Her aunt, feeling under the weather, had requested Lord Rugby be her chaperone for the evening. As luck would have it, Lord Ruby had secured an open carriage for them, having overheard Christina's aunt chastising her about her fear of the enclosed ones. While he didn't understand the phobia, he was a kind man and wished for the young woman to be comfortable. The sight of the open carriage had nearly brought her to tears, both because of the thoughtfulness of the gesture and the fact she wouldn't be trapped in the darkness.

Arriving at the party, Christina looked as ever radiant. Her dress that night of a pale. blushing rose pink. White lace trimmed along the edges of the bust, making her somehow more delicate than last time. Like most of her dresses it was understated, save for one artistic flair. This dress's train had roses sewn into the bustle, two tiers in all. Her hair was bundled atop of her head in a simple crown, a few strands of raven locks accentuating her slender neck and pale shoulders. As she spoke to her host for the evening she spotted over the woman's shoulder in the distance Michael, his height making him stand out.. And for a moment their eyes met before Christina looked away.

I was told he didn't frequent parties... Christina bit back a sigh. She had hoped not to run into him. While she could at least admit to herself, for now, that there was something about him that drew her in, she was not prepared to indulge that feeling. I shall just avoid him, it shouldn't be that hard? Something told her while she might wish to avoid him, Michael might not feel the same.

 

[Vinaein]

Michael lifted an eyebrow delicately at seeing her obvious trepidation at the sight of him. They'd had one brief encounter at a party, why was she so flustered? He hardly supposed she was one to be shy. There was quite the fire behind those lovely eyes, as well as a clever calculation, intelligence and a shrewdness he found rather appealing, so unlike many in the nobility of British society. "I'm very pleased I did not startle you then, if you do not mind the company?" He asked as he strolled out to meet her on the terrace, savoring the aroma of pale flowers.

"A lovely evening," he said as her eyes found his scar. Now that did draw a number of glances, a fair number of comments. More than once, he had found a companion tracing her fingers about it, running her hand to it as if to ensure it was real. Now Christina was watching it with the same fascination. He knew what she must be conjuring in her head: many scenarios, hints of how he may have come by a mark. He liked the mystery and the intrigue, he decided more than once. Why spoil a good tale? Surely he could never spin a yarn as intriguing as one they made up in their heads.

Then a shadow fell over her eyes. "You are too distracting," she said, before rushing past him. Michael was taken aback, blinking rapidly at that as she pushed past to vanish into the crowd. His mouth opened slightly, brow furrowed. Well...that had never happened before, he thought, before he waited a time, collecting himself, before he walked down the halls, bidding a bond greeting to several other lords, letting Rugby wrap him in a conversation even as he failed to spot Christina again.

Instead, Michael busied himself by being exactly where he promised Baron Martinet he would be, waiting with a pleasant smile as the man glared at him. The lion, of course, had found its prey, Michael offering him an easy way out: he simply expected names turned over, plots revealed, light cast into corners where shadows previously reigned...and he would ensure the letters never saw the light of day, to be destroyed upon completion if the Baron would comply. Of course, Michael would retain some leverage as he ever did over his spies...

The man agreed. He had no choice. Michael bid him farewell and rejoined the party, rejoined Genevieve, and spent his evening dancing and more...still thinking of Princess Christina.

----

It was several nights later, Michael dressing again. There had been word of more movement in the upper circles, necessitating perhaps a bit more of a delicate touch, which necessitated attending another party. Michael sighed to himself, hoping he didn't run into one of the women he'd spent the night with previously. With Genevieve there, it could prove awkward. The Marquess had finished dressing, answering Genevieve's queries and comment with gentle deflection, laughing as they escorted themselves back around the ton.

His coat was a dashing blue trimmed with gold, a thick hem to give the appearance of a lion's mane. He wore no jewelry or finery, unarmed save for the knives he concealed on his person, stepping with his sister as his rich eyes cast glances about, summing up the crowd and taking in the measure of each. Some were even his spies here, keeping eyes upon other members of the nobility for him. The Queen's Lion indeed, he thought idly, suddenly wishing he were back at Lyonwood by the fire with wine and a book.

And then his eyes met hers. Princess Christina briefly locking eyes to him, her own widening before she glanced away. His mouth opened slightly before he offered a grin, seeing her head flick away, an obvious flush to her. Genevieve glanced to him curiously, but he repelled her curiosity, instead and made his way over. "Princess Christina," he said delightedly. "I am happy to make your acquaintance again. Hopefully without distraction this time!"

 

[Bunny]

In a world where most men didn't work with their hands and seemed as soft as the women, Christina had found Michael different. It was that reason that Christina found him so distracting. He had seen battle, of a sort, Christina was sure of this. He reminded her of her adoptive father, though had she told Grey Fox this, he would have frowned her out of existence, she was quite sure.

Christina wasn't listening to her hostess, instead she was thinking of the last time she had seen Michael, on the terrace a few days back. He had said all the correct things but it wasn't until she was home in her room she remembered he should not have been alone with her. The ton and the English on whole believed in propriety and virtue. She was at least able to understand such things, they were not completely foreign. However, had someone seen them alone the night before, it could have caused real damage.

The answer was simple enough, she must avoid him. The problem was she was still drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. It doesn't matter. I must focus on why I am here. Chiding herself silently, Christina turned her attention back to their hostess, a soft smile on her lips. The woman had been babbling for a good ten minutes about some sordid detail of someone else's life.

Like many of the ton, she loved to gossip, a habit Christina found distasteful, but one she was forced to at least listen to. In truth she didn't understand the desire to spread these rumors or why the details of others lives was something others seemed to need to know. More so, that they could talk about someone and their behavior and then smile at them just moments later, as if they were good friends. This was something she had never learned.

Christina bit back a sigh at the sound of Michael's voice, the elderly woman before her taking in this interaction. Michael was not one to attend parties, nor seek a woman out like any other young rake. A small, apologetic smile was offered to their hostess and she turned to face Michael. "I do believe that I said just Christina was fine," Christina was aware that correcting him was impolite and she could only hope he took the hint, because she hadn't lied about how attractive she found him and exactly how distracting he was.

Looking up into his tawny eyes she lifted a single brow, "And what has changed since then?" She was being rude intentionally to the only man she was actually attracted to. She had no choice though, Michael would not be manageable, though the idea of finding a husband, no matter for how short a period, was unappealing. She didn't want to marry someone who would allow her to take over, she wanted to marry someone like Grey Fox... Had there not been deadlines at stake, she might have taken some time to get to know Michael, if only to carry that memory with her.

She wanted to stay, talk to him without being rude, but Christina knew if she did, she would be unable to detangle herself. "If you will excuse me, I need to find Lord Rugby," The dismissal was clear and she turned, searching the crowd for her chaperone. Slipping away, Christina knew her small hope of him following her was foolish and exactly what she didn't need. But her needs and her wants varied drastically and in the most inconvenient ways.

 

[Vinaein]

Michael was enjoying this, he had to admit. The ton could be a dreary place and when intrigue was your job, you could tire of it before long. He had no desire to hurt others he didn't have to, but high society could grate on you in a way that after the latest gossip from the latest fop, he had to excuse himself lest he drive an exhausted fist into a grinning face. So he simply excused himself into the party when he caught sight of the princess.

Now, it was true that he might be pushing his luck, but he truly did want to talk with her. Something about her intrigued and enticed him, something that was under the surface, comparable to a still pond with a whirlpool raging underneath. He was cutting his way across the floor, gliding through a sea of bodies as he approached, not bothering to hide himself as he offered his luxurious bow, more that of a soldier and duelist than a dandy. "Christina it is," he said with as much charm imaginable.

She was correcting him. In front of peers, no less! He actually laughed softly to himself his grin spreading over his face as he dipped his hand. "Ah, nothing has changed! I have merely forgotten my manners. Or I have remembered them," he added with a click of his tongue. No hunt tonight, no quarry, no prey, no conflict. Just here because he wanted to, with the one woman he actually wished to see.

"If you will excuse me, I need to find Lord Rugby," she slipped from him then, making him blink slightly, before the smile spread and he chuckled.

"What a coincidence," he closed the distance and took her hand, delicately but firmly. "I'm seeking him myself! In fact, I have a question or two for him, shall we seek together? Or would you rather a dance?" He offered, his eyes upon her. Something was not as it seemed with her, and his clever, quick mind was keen to determine just exactly what. She was enticing, but not entirely trustworthy, especially with this at hand. "Please, you're still so new here, let us be friends, why don't we...?" He asked. He wasn't sure exactly why he was pressing this so, but Christina was livening up the dullness of high society immensely for him and he wished to see more of her.

"Perhaps a dance...or tea? My sister would love to see more of you as well!"

 

[Bunny]

The bow and the smile made Christina want to smile, even as he agreed to just use her name, rather than some title that wasn't hers. By birth, she had inherited it, but she had never been a princess. Rather than smile, she just frowned at him, her lips turning down slightly. Did the man not understand why he was such a distraction? Why he appealed to her?

The smile that spread across his lips only made her frown at him more, her delicate browns drawing in, more than hinting at her displeasure. Out of the dandies and rakes she had encountered, none, not a single one drew her in as he did and without effort. She knew when the others tried to impress her. They spoke of things like finances, properties and other things that bore no interest to her. Like cocks trying to lure a hen in, showing off their preened feathers.

She had managed her escape, though when she felt his hand capture her own, her eyes widened and she looked up at him. She didn't believe him for a moment and her pale dove grey eyes narrowed and darkened. It was clear she didn't believe him. "I do not dance," it was both the truth and a lie, she knew hot to dance, but not the dances that they performed here. When he implored her to be friends she shook her head, delicately pulling her hand from his. "I do not think that wise," her voice had gone husky and she turned to leave, finding Genevieve directly in her path.

"Tea would be lovely, oh, won't you join me for tea tomorrow?" Christina wanted to close her eyes and perhaps swear, but instead she smiled at her. She liked them both, truth be told. Genevieve had a bright, exuberant personality that reminded her of Running Brook. "It would be my pleasure," Her smile widening at the delight that spread over Genevieve's face. "Oh, goodie! Tomorrow, around one?", "I wouldn't miss it," Her voice was warm and she turned to Michael as his sister ran off. Her eyes narrowed again, she wasn't sure how, but he had orchestrated that.

Moving towards an empty hallway, she knew he would follow. "I am not sure what game you're playing," Christina said, her stormy eyes meeting his own. "But leave me out of it." There was a desperateness to her command, making the words and tone at odds. She wasn't sure how long she could ignore his clear interest or her own desires to know this warrior better. While they had not spoken of anything of true import, she liked speaking with him.

 

[Vinaein]

It did not escape Michael how she frowned, the delicate downward curve of her lips, the slight distress within her eyes. He could not help but wonder why she had so many issues for this, why she had so much difficulty. He went quiet as he appraised her, inwardly amused with it all as he watched her.

Perhaps it was the scar? It did have a way of drawing out his intimidation factor. He usually relished it; it made him look quite dangerous at times, the product of a vicious brawl, with stories coming abound for how it might have come about. He never once confirmed or denied the stories, for when they were confirmed to facts, they ceased to be altogether appealing. Better to keep others guessing. But this Christina was different and it fascinated him.

So when he offered the dance and she refused, protesting she did not think it wise, he couldn't help but smile tenderly. "And what of wisdom? What use is it when it brings no profit to the wise?" He murmured tenderly, his gaze sliding over her face. She did not dance, though, she said and shook her hand from his, stepping away. He let her go-

And then Genevieve blocked her path, demanding she join her for tea. Michael picked up on that. "And what a fantastic, splendid idea!" He said with a flourish. "The Princess would be delighted, she was just telling me, she can't wait to know you more!" It was something of a crude power play and he didn't truly feel comfortable with such tactics. But desperate times, he decided. Even more when Christina agreed to join them. "Splendid, perfect! We shall have it prepared, promptly!"

So when they found themselves in the empty hall, Michael was all twinkling, offended innocence. "Game...? What sort of game do you think I play...?" He asked. "I am merely a humble Marquess, Christina...or do you worry that any game would run contrary to one of your own...?" His voice was lacking in judgement, carrying traced of amusement. "I am eager to hear your thoughts." He stepped closer to her, the smile dancing on his lips. "Do tell, my dear."

 

[Bunny]

Would he have been amused to know that while he worried it was his scar that caused her frown, it had been the first thing to draw her to him? When he questioned her, she had been turning and then trapped between Michael and his sister. She had no choice but to agree, though, she was fond of both siblings, the one wouldn't complicate her life, the other seemed hell bent to try at every turn. None of this was shown to Genevieve, it might have hurt her feelings and Christina had no wish to be the one to darken her smile.

"Do not play the fool," Her words hissed, "You are too distracting, yet you seemed determined to remain so" When he questioned her game, she shook her head. "It is life or death, and it is not a game." Her voice wavering slightly. When Michael stepped in, Christina backed up, finding her path blocked by a table. Cornered she looked up at him, lost as to what to do. He did complicate her game, as he called it and she had not lied, though the threat was at the very least not imminent.

Grey eyes seemed lost in his tawny gaze and Christina had the most outrageous desire to have him kiss her. What would it feel like, she wondered, to be kissed. She had seen Grey Fox and Laughing Brook kiss, the tenderness and affection shared. Dark lashes lowered and her chin angled to the side. "You are too handsome Michael," the words barely whispered, "That is why you are so distracting." There, she had told him, though she doubted this would help her discourage him.

Stirring she made a move to slip past him, "This isn't proper. Just like the night on the terrace was not proper," Though she said it wasn't proper, she didn't say it as if she believed it, more as if it was a rule she had been told. Which was exactly what it was. Little did either know, but the ton was abuzz with talks of them as a potential pair. Which was news in of itself, given his disinclination towards the ton. Even now, they whispered about the pair and how the princess had perhaps tamed a lion and how afraid she must be with the attention.

Though, there was not a fearful bone in her body when it came to Michael. In truth, the only thing that Christina was in danger of was losing sight of her goal. Michael had this way about him that made her head feel fuzzy, that made her wish to be kissed by him..

 

[Vinaein]

"I play many roles," Michael said in response, a touch of pride tinging his voice. "I wear many faces, many masks. I adopt many, many guises, my lady. But never the fool. Never will I dress in that motley, caper about. I speak honestly- and if I do not, rest assured, there is ever a reason." His smile turned dangerous, lips flicking up into a daggered smile as she saw there was little escape. He did not press her nor move to corner her, did not want her to consider herself prey or helpless before him, no matter how bladed his gaze upon her.

"Of course it's a game. Life and death are the oldest, most vexing games in all history. The game begins at the moment of birth and does not end until death claims us, Christina. But somehow I think you know that. I do not believe you have come here without purpose, have you? No, you who linger in hearts and minds, upon lips and ears...you are not like the others at all."

And when she said the reason for her distraction, he laughed, open and loud, like the amused roar of a lion, grinning down at her with his teeth sharp and menacing. "Am I too handsome? As far as excuses go, I must confess, this was a most unexpected one, my lady! Christina," he corrected himself with just a flourish to his voice, running over the words delicately.

"You say it's not proper. I ask...so what? Do you chain yourself to social norms? Bind yourself to the expectations of others? I don't think your eally believe that." he reached out a cupped her chin between two fingers. "There is no conviction to your voice when you say it, Christina. No, rather I see you attemtping a mask of your own. Now who is playing the fool?" He asked with a tender edge to his voice. He gazed down at this beautiful, vexing woman who seemed so eager to pull away and be chased at the same time. "Who is deceiving themselves...?" He leaned in...and halted their faces so close together.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured as he brushed his thumb over her cheek. "But I don't think that is what you want..."

 

[Bunny]

Listening to him was complicated, while she spoke English fluently, the words often had other meanings. Though, she was pretty sure that Michael admitted to telling lies, but with a reason. "So you agree that a lie, for a reason is alright?" She questioned him, though there was something to her voice, as if his answer was important to her. The fact that he had not implied that his lies were for a good reason had not been missed by Christina.

His answer to her own response frustrated Christina, but it wasn't like she could explain why to Michael. She didn't know him well enough to trust him. She did understand his point about life and death being a game they were all playing, but it was different when one knew they were on a timetable. A touch of blush found her cheeks and she shook her head, dark curls swaying. "I never asked to linger upon anywhere," his words excited her though, it made her wonder where for Michael she lingered.

Her cheeks darkened further, "Do not laugh at me." Her tone bordered on unhappy. She had shared with him something personal, even if it pertained to him, she didn't understand why he found it amusing. The cultural differences peeking out once more. Another shake of her head and a frown, "Believe it or not, Michael, others do." The doors of the ton could close as easily as they had opened for her, should a rumor begin. Like it or not, she needed the members of the ton and therefore their opinions and beliefs applied to her.

His body leaned closer and large, bright grey eyes stared up at him, lips parted. "I do what I must," her voice a murmur, "I haven't a choice but to." She wasn't deceiving herself, Christina knew what she wanted and had she planned to say, she might have been more welcoming to his advances, but she didn't. Once her business here was concluded, she would leave, husband or not.

His thumb brushed along her cheek and the words he offered for her escape couldn't make it past her lips. She didn't want him to stop. He was right in the matter. "Michael." His name, soft was whispered as his head lowered, a plea, but no word was uttered to detour him. Grey eyes became fuzzy the closer he got and Christina could feel her heart racing. Just before he kissed her, her eyes closed, in anticipation of the touch.

 

[Vinaein]

"There are many reasons to lie, Christina," Michael said delicately. "Lies are tools, to be plucked from their resting place and wielded for the appropriate purpose. Even the truth can be used to lie, when you know how to tell it properly. "Some lie for material gain, others lie for fortune or fame. Some tell lies to help others...some? Well all of the above," he added. "Of course, I am hardly innocent of them myself, I invite you to consider what might be true or false, that you know of me...

"And even if you never asked to linger anywhere, you cannot be ignorant of rumors, nor how they may spring up from fertile soil like the most delicately planted of flowers," his voice was almost tender now. "You cannot be unaware of what your presence has unleashed in high society, where rumors only grow and we only know what we hear..." He lifted his eyebrow, all offended and delicate innocence. "Laughing at you? I merely laugh at the situation, the intrigue of it. But laugh at you, never...I only laugh at those who deserve scorn and you have done nothing to warrant that."

He took in the sweetness of her scent, studying her large eyes, the shape of her hair, the soft, dark raven tresses as he kept her chin in hand. "And what must you do? Is it a compulsion? Something you cannot resist? What motives lurk behind your eyes, sweet Princess Christina? What webs do you spin within that heart of yours? Where do you find yourself and for what purpose?" He moved closer, basking in the presence of her.

He leaned in at the permission of his name, the utterance a key to the lock of hesitation. He kissed her, warmth and soft, slow and tender, the press of her lips to hers, the taste of her intoxicating. His arm slid about her slender waist and he drew her nearer, almost of a mind to implore her to return with him that evening. "It seems we are both beings of secrets, Christina..."

 

[Bunny]

Were there though? In Christina's life she had not come across someone in Michael's profession, nor did she know his profession. It would have only served to confuse her. As he explained why people might lie, she found herself feeling lost once more in a land that wasn't hers. Christina was willing to lie only to obtain her goal, one in which she had no other choice. The idea of lying constantly didn't sit well with her, her upbringing making it a concept hard for her to really understand.

His offer only served to make her wonder what she even knew about the man before her. Nothing. He hadn't been an acceptable choice according to her aunt, when she had broached the subject tentatively. Her aunt confirmed what she already knew. "I don't know you, Michael." Much like her previous words, her voice was soft. "Nor, do you know me." No one knew her and the only one who might have was her great aunt, but she had no desire to know her. Her aunt was afraid of her.

Delicate brows furrowed together, what had her presence unleashed? Christina didn't actually know she had been puzzling out his words when she had told him of why he distracted her so and her displeasure at his laugh. His words soothed the perceived hurt and she inclined her head slightly in acceptance of his explanation. Michael leaned into her, his questions answered with silence. His answers would not come so easily. The only one who knew even a part, bolted her doors from the young woman who stood before him.

Michael made her feel things she wasn't prepared for, desire and something else. A want she had never given herself a chance to want. His mouth pressed to hers and he would find her lips stiff for but a moment before they softened, it was a chaste kiss, sweeter than anything else. Michael's arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She trembled in his arms, and perhaps for a moment, he might think he scared her. One hand moved to rest on his chest, "Perhaps," before she pressed a kiss to his mouth, seeking out the way it had made her feel.

Christina knew what she was doing was wrong, should anyone happen upon them in this hallway she would be ruined. Michael was a male, there might be an expectation that he marry her, for ruining her, even if all they had done was kiss. It might cast a black mark on his name, but in the end, he would be allowed back into the glittering halls. No one would want her after. It was like playing with fire and Christina seemed unable or unwilling to take caution.

 

[Vinaein]

"I don't know you, Michael." It was true, he thought. They didn't know one another, not truly, not beyond glances, whispers, comments and now this. They had known one another a short time, the span of mere minutes and yet Michael felt a strange connection. Was she lying now? How much of this was put on, what was her goal, what did she aim to achieve? Michael wondered it briefly, smiling dangerously again as he drew her nearer.

"But you want to." It wasn't a question. He knew she wanted to know him better, to understand him. But he wanted to know her better, too, in an odd way. Beyond the talk of society, beyond the opinions of others. "You don't know me. I don't know you. but that is one truth of the world: it can change. We can change, out acquaintance can change. If we desire it to. DO you?" He emphasized it, grinning dangerously at her.

His smile continued as their faces closed together, the kiss a gentle promise with his lips, his arm a cage about her, drawing her so close to kiss her all the more, lips running delicately to hers- then harder, his arm tightening about her. Not aggressive, but firm as he draw her in to the sound of 'perhaps.' His breath came faster, a sudden excitement rising in him as he kissed her a harsh thirst, One hand pressed to her hair feeling the softness as he kissed her hungrily, lips catching her own. "Do you wish to know more...? We can be...discreet."

 

[Bunny]

"But you want to" It wasn't a question, but a statement, not even one that Christina could refute. Michael wasn't like the other men of the ton, it went more than his looks. There was something primal about him, that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Christina could tell there was something darker behind his eyes, though he didn't show that part of him outwardly. Grinning Bear had a similar face to him, perhaps that was what she felt from Michael. Crowding her slight, Christina inhaled, eyes holding his.

She couldn't answer him, not honestly. Telling him that she did desire to know him better would complicate things. She knew what she needed, what she wanted was irrelevant. His grin was like that of a bobcat, dangerous, yet compelling. She knew he expected an answer and a small part of her took pleasure in not giving him the answer he so clearly wanted. It was almost moot though, he knew the answer, he just wanted her to admit it to him.

Their kiss robbed Christina of her thoughts. She had never been kissed before and she found it felt like she had thought. Making her mind fuzzy, the pleasant feeling making her only want more, to which Michael seemed more than willing to oblige. His arm pulled her small body closer and her arms moved naturally around his neck as Michael's mouth found hers again, his breath quicker, his hand pressing to her silken locks. It was clear she hadn't been kissed before, but it was just as clear she was a quick learner. Christina kissed him back with the same passion. When he pulled back, her breath came quickly.

"You're a rake," The words whispered against his mouth. She already knew nothing was missed by the ton, at least not forever. "Someone will find out Michael," It wasn't a no, but there was a clear worry. "You will escape unblemished, I will not.. and then I will not be able to find a husband" It was an eventual thing all girls would want, to marry, have babies. If not wanted, it would be expected. Her answer wouldn't be out of place. How would Michael feel to know she desired a husband within the season. Would he baulk at getting to know her better, if it meant he might be trapped with her, should someone discover them, if they became close. "I wouldn't force you into such a position either.." They both knew of the one she spoke.

Even this kissing would be a stain she would be marked with, if someone saw them. She was alone, unchaperoned with a man. It would be a scandal.

 

[Vinaein]

Christina wasn't like other women of the ton. Not like the silly gaggles who gathered, gossiped and laughed about nothing, not one who had her only interests in the current talk of the town and dazzling those around her. No, there was more to Princess Christina, he was sure of it. Something enticing and delightful, something he wanted more of. He wanted to observe her more, talk to her more, find out what was within her mind and thoughts. But he had her on this, he was certain of it: he knew what she wanted in this moment and so did she, if only she did not deny it to both.

Michael cared nothing for scandals or the thoughts of others. He was a man who trod within the realm of rumors, what was one more? He couldn't care less who saw them; what had a dangerous lord or princess to fear from them? What did he even have to begin to fear of this? It almost made him laugh at the absurdity before he kissed her, running his mouth against her own. Her slender arms were about his neck, her passions yielding to the kiss with him as he drew her near to him, kissing her lips with delicious relish. She was inexperienced at it, but her natural skill could not be denied.

She pulled away, almost pouting as she declared him a 'rake' then. He couldn't help but grin, his eyes glinting with a manic intensity at that. "am I?" he asked playfullly. "What's a rake, but a man who knows what's best and answers it? What have people like us to fear from such shallow opinions?" It even helped him operate, truth be told. Let others judge him, he could easily dance around their expectations. "What position would you force me into? I daresay you could force me to nothing any more than I could force you..."

Oh, he'd already seen they'd not be interrupted and anyone who saw might well forget. "If you wager your feelings on the unwanted opinions of others...that sounds such a dreary life, doesn't it? Don't you like to live just a bit dangerously, Christina...?"

 

[Bunny]

There was danger in accepting his offer, Christina knew. Yet, she found it hard to reason out why she shouldn't follow her own desires. Just this once... Oh, should anyone find out, her plans would be ruined. Her father might win. Perhaps, if that were the case, she could speak to Michael about what she needed. He would have had a hand in it and it wasn't as if he would need to stay married to her forever... All of this based on what ifs that may never come to pass. Fears and worries that may never happen.

Arms twined around his neck, she claimed him a rake, his answer made her dove grey eyes narrow, "You know you are, Lyon." His retort earned him a feminine growl of annoyance. He still seemed to, no matter what she said, think of her as a princess. Royalty more or less above such things. Though, even then, men often came out smelling like a rose. Women didn't often have the same luxury. Yet, she was no princess. Her father, if he knew of her, had not claimed her. Nor would she claim him. She was no different than anyone else in the ton, not really.

Even as he taunted her, tried to dare her into acceptance she pulled away. Arms slipped from his neck, resting on his chest. "Tell me, why do you think my reputation would come out without a scratch? Because I am a princess? Would you marry me, if someone found us together? Or would you look after me as your paramour?" Shaking her head, she pushed at the strong wall of his chest. "Even if I wished to Michael, you could ruin everything."

Her mother was long dead and the thought of allowing her father to win sickened her. "I already live dangerously, I need not complicate my life further." Eyes lowered her chin turned toward her shoulder, small hands curling into fists against his chest. "You should forget me, write me off your mind and tongue" She knew he didn't love her, so she left his heart well out of the equation. "Let me go, Michael."

 

[Vinaein]

Michael knew what he was offering was dangerous. In fact, to him, that was part of the delight in it. What use was it to live enslaved to the boundaries and rules of others? He had made mistakes in the past, the scar on his face a memento of that. He had erred and he had paid the price for it, but it had not dulled his zest and passions for life. Quite the contrary, it made it even sharper. Her arms slid around him, drawing him closer.

"You know you are, Michael." Well, he could hardly deny it, could he? He might have been a touch of a rake, but, if he was to opine, a fundamentally noble one at heart. With a sharp edge of course, he thought with an amused chuckle to himself as his leonine eyes gazed into hers. He could see tempest and tumult inside her mind, a struggle of whether to accept his offer when laid out before her. She wanted to accept, just as he did, this sweet princess...

Her hands pressed to his chest, holding him at a length. He acceded before it, remaining there at the length without pressing. "People love a good scandal, but what they love more than that is a good story. you'd be shocked what this world can forgive, what the ton can overlook, as long as there's a tale to tell with it," he murmured gently. "Marriage? We're perhaps running before we're walking now, are we not? If someone found us...would it not grant a story to tell? Would we not be able to help one another?

"Forget you? Not possible, even if I wished," he added. "You're too famous, every fete about would be a reminder..." But then: 'Let me go, Michael.' Without complaint, he released her instantly, acceding to her wishes. "Happily...but the question is do you wish me to? Truly?"

 

[Bunny]

She heard him, but she questioned if he heard her. People did indeed love a good scandal from what she had been able to attest her short few months on English soil, but she had a goal and no matter what he seemed to think, she doubted her ability to come out of a scandal smelling like a rose. She laughed softly and lifted a brow. "I didn't mean right away, or at all even. I am new to the London ton, but something tells me we should be caught here, and news of it spread" Her voice was soft, but frank.

"Besides, you wouldn't be manageable" Though it was said as if it was a bad thing, there was something to her voice, that said she didn't want a manageable husband. Looking up at him, something moved behind her eyes. She couldn't help him should the worst come, the sort of danger that came with his suggestion couldn't be solved at the end of a dagger. Her eyes touched his scar, he was strong, but Christina was unsure of herself in such a battle. All of this was ifs, maybes and perhaps though, a language she wasn't well versed in.

When asked to forget her, he answered much like she had imagined and much like she hoped. She could have been forgotten by the ton, all of them, but Michael. When she asked him to release her he did, without question. She might have lied, for it would have been for the best, but when he asked her for the truth, she shook her head. "No, not truly." She imagined, when she had been a little girl, marrying someone much like him. He reminded her of the men in her life. Her father, her brother, uncles and others who had put up with the raven haired child being underfoot.

A hand reached up, brushing against his cheek, the touch tender. If she had no other plans, nothing else to be done, Christina would have happily found what Lyon could teach her. Though, had she not had plans, she wouldn’t have been in England. There was something about the man before her though… something that if she didn’t try, she would regret her whole life.

 

[Vinaein]

"Oh, not right away...?" His voice took on a playful edge now as he remained so near to her, leaning in to steal a kiss this time. Scandals were a funny thing; one could be the talk of the town so quickly in the ton, but rumors could grow or fade as others took their place. Besides, he was Michael Lyon, Marquess of Lynwood, Knight of the Crown. Few dared to give rumors about him much credence, or dare give them voice in his presence or behind his back when he would be more likely to listen. "And if you are so frightened of rumors, I can protect you from them," he all but growled close to her ear. "A benefit to my position here..."

"Manageable? Is manageable what you want?" He almost laughed at the absurdity of it. "Look at you...you cannot tell me you desire boring and practical. Manageable. You would be bored within the week. I can see it in your eyes, Princess. What you desire is excitement. The whirl of life about you, the rush and adrenaline. Tell me I am wrong." His grin grew more dangerous, ruthless and coy as he stared closely at her....but alas...

"Still...I accede to your wishes," he whispered. He leaned in and stole a final kiss as his hands lifted from her, obediently at her command. "I do not force. I will not start now. "If I may ask, what shall you do next? What are your plans? To find someone manageable, perhaps?" an eyebrow lifted as he contemplated her, detecting confusion and conflict behind her eyes now. He was staring close, ever fascinated by this woman before him...he had work to do soon and yet, he could not pull away.

But why should he now? He had released her, yet it was one of the more difficult things he'd brought himself to do recently. She was no object or possession to hold to, no...in her he almost believed he saw an equal.

 

[Bunny]

A sound was made in her throat, a soft acknowledgment. The kiss slowed her response and even with her saying no to him, pulling away with her words, there was no questioning just how she leaned into the kiss, lingered a willing participant. "It would only be needed should my reputation be ruined," Even then, she wouldn't have pushed him for it. Some of the women of the ton might have, but Christina would not try and force the lion into a cage of words and honor. Her eyes lingered on his until he leaned in, his tone akin to that of his namesake, the growl bringing a delightful shiver along her spine. Michael was appealing already, the sound did nothing to hinder her desires.

His question made her laugh, a sweet sound. He didn't miss much, the Lyon before her. She would indeed be bored within a week, though she wouldn't have been in England much more than a week after her wedding. "Is that what I desire?" Christina challenged him, her smile almost feral for a moment, "Or is it some idea of me you have dreamed up?" She nodded past him, "They have all made up ideas in their mind of what I am. They see what they wish, without care if it is the truth. Even you, no matter how many times, I tell you Christina is fine, insist on calling me Princess." She lifted a brow, "Do you not wonder why the title is not how I wish to be called?" She was a princess, Christina could not deny it.. But it was just an empty title. Or why it is only you I wish to call me Christina.

Even as he agreed to honor her wishes, his mouth found hers again. Ever saying no, Christina never once returned a kiss from him as if no is what she really meant. She seemed to put all she was into each he gave her. "I never thought you would," her words soft, her teeth capturing her lower lip as she looked up at him. "It is why I am in England." There was no use denying it, she'd already said as much. She wouldn't be here long enough to be more than a fond memory. Would he remember her fondly? Christina wondered.

What she wanted more than anything else was one last kiss, when even the last didn't seem to satisfy her. Would the next do the trick? Christina doubted it. A hand stroked along the front of his coat, her eyes still on his. She didn't care for the ton or its opinions, at least not beyond her own goal. One more. Christina told herself. Just one more kiss. Leaning up, she gave him time to stop her, to question or deny her wish. Her nose brushing his before her mouth claimed his. There was a fire within her, burning so close to the surface.

 

[Vinaein]

Michael could not help but draw her nearer into the kiss when their lips melt, feeling her all but meld against his, the soft touch of her lips like a fine wine he wished to drink deeply of. He could tell just how badly she wished it, his arm about her as he held it, giving just a bit of fire to indicate what she might play with should she so desire. All while he only pulled away with such reluctance, if she only knew as she spoke of reputation to him. True, women could find their own reputations squandered swiftly in the ton...but he wondered if she judged it worth the risk.

""Or is it some idea of me you have dreamed up?" Her question was pointed, biting and designed to delve to the heart of the matter, something he liked more about her.

"Why don't you you tell me?" He murmured as he moved closer against her. "After all, who knows you like you, Christina? Dreams can be very prescient things. They can predict the future, foretell what is yet to be...they can give one insight into another as well. Tell me, is my dream correct, or is it simply an ephemeral vision that bears no resemblance to reality...? You say others have their minds made up...well, do you judge me so shallow? Tell me..how accurate am I? I see you, but I try to look underneath, dear Christina...if you ask me if I wonder, the answer should be obvious. So tell me why. Impart to me the knowledge of why you do not wish to be known by your title...and I shan't call you anything but what you wish."

But there was more there, he could tell...something personal for them alone. Her teeth sank into his lip and he shifted to press her against the wall, responding to it again, almost ravenous with the next touch of his lips to her own. "And why are you in England then...?" The answer that was forthcoming, though, was a kiss she initiated and he pulled her in to drink deeper of it, holding it with a new flame, pressing himself to her as he kissed her slow and hard, suddenly feeling as if he never wished to part from her lips. "If you wish..." his lips came to her ear. "We can be quite discreet..."

 

[Bunny]

There was something intoxicating about the way he kissed her back, drawing her closer to him. Like being drunk almost, which had only done once when she had been younger. The memory was a fond one, even if she had been in quite a bit of trouble with her elder brother, who had also gotten drunk with her. They drew apart, but slowly, the reluctance in them both became obvious. He had never made his desires hidden and while she denied her own, they were no less hidden. Not with the way she answered each kiss, each touch with the reckless abandon of wildfire.

He turned her question on her in the most vexing of manors. Both answering her and evading the question at the same time. "Do you always evade questions asked of you?" There was a warmth of humor in her voice. His questions continued and he hit a subject she couldn't explain. Not really. "Refusing to simply abide by my wishes without my reason isn't going to gain you any further insights into my secrets." She didn't know him and while there was no denying her attraction to him, her secrets could put her into danger. Her fights, as much as an ally as cunning as the Lyon seemed, would likely prove useful, was not something she could drag him into.

Pressed against the wall, Christina's breath came quicker. Trapped between him and the wall, Christina had nowhere to run. Not that she wished to run. No, she kissed him back as if she were a drowning woman and his kiss gave her the air her lungs needed. Michael controlled the kiss as it neared the end, taking his time exploring her mouth, though there was strength in his slow torment. It was the second time he had made her that offer, to be discreet. Christina didn't know if she was ready for that step, the one implied.

A virgin, she had already been worrying about when she married if she could escape that fated duty a wife preformed for her husband. There were silly fears, girlish in their silliness. What if she was no good? All good young women of the ton should be the same, virginal. Her head fell against his shoulder. He was a devil made flesh, sent to tease and test her resolve and Christina was ready to jump into the fires. Inhaling she caught the warm scent of vanilla. Sweet and rich, it tickled her nose and made her smile some.

Her eyes rose and after a long moment, she nodded. She would leave England before long and she couldn't help but want to know Michael in the way a wife would know a husband. She wasn't foolish enough to think it would mean the same to him, not did she consider him her husband.. but that bond was meant to be special. It would be something she could remember fondly from her time here... Even if it wouldn't mean the same to him. Christina could accept it, for it was unlikely to mean the same. "Yes" Her voice was soft, but there was no fear.