Page 8 of The Lyon and the Lass

“Yes.”

He looked down at the plates laid before them of Haricot lamb, pickled figs, fish with wine and mushrooms, and vegetable pie. “I suggest we finish this conversation once we are through with our meal. It is wonderful food, but it will grow cold.”

It was indeed wonderful food, and Christine was quite happy that the la—rather, Kerrigan—liked it, since it had been her suggestion. The rest of the meal passed in comments about thevarious offerings, which gave Christine time to settle her nerves. She felt as though she’d been talking forever. But then, most couples had that kind of conversation over a period of weeks or months before they married.

Kerrigan tried notto stare at his wife while they ate. She was a beauty. Although he’d been prepared to marry any woman he needed to in order to save his clan, never in his very active imagination had he conjured up a lass such as this one.

The new Lady Christine Lindsay, however, would never succeed in a game of poker. Every thought was visible on her face. She smiled, grinned, frowned, and everything else to show the world what she thought as she spoke. Her voice, alone, was enough to drive his blood to his shaft. Deep, soft, and inviting. He didn’t think he ever had to worry about his wife lying to him. It appeared it was merely not in her nature.

They finished their meal with tea and an array of sweets. As much as he was looking forward to retiring to the townhouse Mr. Kendall had offered them, he was feeling a tad guilty as to how very tired his new bride looked. He imagined that what she’d gone through the last few days with escaping her home, seeking out Mrs. Dove-Lyon, and wedding a stranger, was taking a toll on her body.

Kerrigan placed money on the table and stood. “I believe it is time to make use of the generous offer Mr. Kendall made us and retire for the day.”

Most likely not thinking about the looming consummation of their vows, she smiled warmly at him. “Yes, I am quite tired.”

Yet that was all he could think about with his bonny bride at his side.

Once they left the building, Kerrigan waved down a hackney and gave the driver directions. Despite his desire to bed his wife, the more he studied Christine, the more convinced he was that any intimacy between them was better left off for now. She was a gently bred lady, after all, and even though she’d had the resourcefulness to seek a husband, he was still a stranger to her, and she was very tired. Since it was best to start his marriage as he intended for it to go on, he would forego any romantic notions he had and let his wife have a good night’s rest. After all, he told his disappointed shaft, they had the rest of their lives.

The townhouse was in a very fashionable neighborhood, with well-kept front gardens and freshly painted doors. Kerrigan assisted Christine up the steps and before they even reached the top, the door was opened by an older looking man, dressed in a full butler ensemble. Apparently, not having the master in residence didn’t cause his employee to slacken.

“Good evening, Lady Lindsay, Laird Lindsay. After your belongings arrived, along with a note from Mr. Kendall, I arranged for one of the bed chambers to be readied for you, but it might take a bit more time. However, you may rest in the drawing room, and I can send for tea if you would like.”

“Thank you so much, Stevens, but we just finished our meal,” Kerrigan said.

The butler led them to a lovely room just as a maid was leaving with a bundle of dust covers in her arms.

“There is brandy and sherry on the sideboard, Laird.” He waved toward the south wall. “I have retained the services of a cook for the few days you will be staying. Will you be breaking your fast in the dining room, or your bedchamber?”

Christine looked at Kerrigan. “You may have our morning meal sent up,” he said.

She tried very hard not to let the warm flush from her middle climb all the way to her face, but she thought she hadn’tsucceeded. Kerrigan was kind enough not to notice or react if he had.

The butler walked to the door. “I will advise when the bedchamber is ready.” He softly closed the door, leaving Christine and Kerrigan staring at each other.

He took her hands in his. “Are all English butlers as efficient as Stevens?”

She couldn’t hide her smile. “No, I think not.”

Kerrigan grinned back at her and waved to the sideboard. “Would you care for a drink?”

“Yes, I believe so.” She certainly needed something to fortify her before she was marched upstairs as if she were headed to her execution.

“Nay, lass, it won’t be that bad.” Her husband smiled.

“Oh, my. Did I say that out loud?”

“Aye. But calm yerself. Tonight I believe we should continue to learn about each other, relax and have a good night’s sleep.”

She couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that escaped her lips.

With a soft laugh, Kerrigan walked to the sideboard.

Chapter Five

“Your bedchamber isready, my lord, my lady.” A small woman with curly brown hair and large brown eyes entered the drawing room. “It is the one at the top of the stairs.”

“Thank ye, lass,” Kerrigan said. He turned to Christine and studied her for a moment. “’Twould be best if ye go on ahead and prepare yerself for bed. I will join ye after a little while.”