The Fires of Spring

Chapter Four

"Cruel to me, as always," he said, and cocked his head.

"Truthful, as always," she countered.

"For someone so entrenched in lies and secrets you have a nasty way of dealing out the truth," Christopher said.

Lilith sighed and changed the subject, for she had more important matters on her mind than repartee with Christopher. The President, for example, and Colm Brightley.

"Was there something you wanted to ask me, Christopher? As out of character as that is for you, I can't think of any other reason why you'd come here," said Lilith. "Especially since I will be in our quarters tonight."

"How was Ascot?" he said, turning his head, his eyes lighting up with mischief. He was purposely trying to infuriate her, skirting around his true reason for his visit.

Lilith would not, as ever, rise to it, and took some satisfaction for the fact that her calm refusal to respond to his teasing infuriated him in turn.

"Lovely. I won five thousand marks off Henry. But I know you've no interest in that, so what was it you wanted?" she pressed. Her voice was serene.

"And how was his Lordship?" pressed Christopher, and now his voice was practically kittenish.

"Charming, dapper, and utterly wonderful, as always," Lilith returned. "Now, what did you want?"

Christopher sighed and gave in, likely to avoid Lilith's further discussion of Henry, whom he despised with a singular passion Lilith could not explain. That hatred had always troubled her, for she disliked being ignorant of the reason for it, as she disliked being ignorant of anything.

Which was likely why she was so disturbed by the President.

"Do we have any social functions this weekend?" asked Christopher.

"You could have asked Paul that," Lilith observed. "You know he's my assistant in coordinating our schedule. Why ask me?"

"Answer the damn question, Lilith," he sighed.

"One. We're to have dinner with the Russian Ambassador at the Embassy on Friday night. After that, I have booked this weekend as a weekend off," she said.

"Excellent," said Christopher.

Lilith glared at him like he was mad. Since when did he take an interest in their schedule? "Why do you say that?" she asked, and her voice was level, if disapproving.

"I thought that we could go on a weekend retreat to Bancroft," said Christopher, and Lilith knew he was referring to his family manor in the heart of the woods, known as Bancroft Manor.

"And what would that accomplish?" she asked.

"It's your birthday," he said. "I thought you might enjoy it."

Now Lilith's suspicion was on high alert, and she glared at Christopher, searching in his face for the true motivation behind those words. For she knew it could not be a concern for her that motivated him. He might admire her, might even like her, but concern was so foreign to such a selfish creature as Christopher than she doubted he even knew what it was.

"And why on earth would you think that I would enjoy spending my birthday alone with you?" she said.

She gaged his reaction as her words sank in, taking note of how he flinched back, as though what she'd said had actually hurt him.

"Very well," he said, and laid a hand to his heart in a display of wounded pride. "It was only an offer."

But Lilith stopped him. Something had occurred to her. "No. We'll go to Bancroft, Christopher."