—RABELAIS
"Diana?"
Oh, why couldn't he just disappear and leave her alone? He was infuriating.
The sounds were muffled now, and he pictured her with her fist stuffed in her mouth. He eased off the bunk, oblivious of the fact that he was naked, and came down on his knees beside her.
"Come, what is wrong? Are you not feeling well? Is your belly cramping?"
She saw red through her misery. "Must you think everything related to my being a female? Oh, go away, Lyon!"
He touched his hand to her shoulder and frowned when he felt her flinch. "I will go away after you've told me what's wrong. Answer me. I am uncomfortable when you are silent, since you never are."
"Very well. I am unhappy. I want to be home. I don't want to have to worry about you ravishing me when I am not on my guard. I don't want to be forced to do anything I don't believe is right. There, I have answered you, now go away."
He sat back on his heels. He wished he could see her face, but the cabin was dark as a pit. He said, very deliberately, "If you promise to marry me, I will promise not to ravish you."
She said quickly, too quickly for his ears, "All right. I promise to marry you once we reach St. Thomas."
"You are an execrable liar, you know."
"Damn you, Lyon! What if I were the one to demand marriage? I couldn't force the issue by ravishing you. It isn't fair."
"Perhaps it isn't fair. However, as a man, I am endowed with more innate good sense than you are. As a man, it is up to me to assist you to reason, to make you see things more clearly ---"
He got a fist in his belly with such force that he fell on his rump.
"There is no talking to you, no reasoning with you!" She jumped at him, pounding his chest.
He grasped her about her waist and pulled her down on top of him. Her legs tangled with his, her breasts were full against his chest, and his body responded instantly. Damn her anyway and her effect on him. He scowled in the dark. "Do you have cat eyes? I do trust that you were aiming for my chest and not my manhood again."
He felt her arm raise and quickly grabbed her wrist, bearing it down. He slid his other hand to her bottom, to hold her still against him.
"Let me go."
"Only if you promise with absolute sincerity to attempt no more damage to my poor body."
Diana felt him hard against her belly. She felt herself wanting to press against him. It was too much. "I promise."
"Liar. If ever in the future you try to play me false, I shall know it."
"I am not Charlotte!"
He rolled her over onto her back and quickly brought his leg over hers. Now he could see the faint shadow of her face. "I wish I could see you better. I wish I could tie you down. I wish that you weren't being so very womanly at this time."
He lowered his face and kissed her. He first landed on her nose, then her cheek. When he found her mouth, she tried to bite him.
"Leave me be, Lyon."
Her voice sounded thin as air. She was frightened. Of himself or of her own feelings? His opinion of himself and his prowess dictated that she was afraid of herself.
"You're naked, damn you!" Her hand fell away from his back as if scalded.
"Yes, and I wish you were as well. A pity. You already knew I was naked. Your hands have been all over me."
He released her and rose. "No more crying, Diana. Go to sleep and try not to dream about my demise. It won't happen."
"No," she said very low, "'tis my demise you want."
"Don't be more of an idiot than you have been." He gingerly stepped around her and eased back into the bunk.
"I should like it vastly if you would cease flaunting your body in front of me."
Lyon knew she couldn't see him, at least not specifically. "Flaunting my body? I have never before heard of a man being accused of that. But no matter. Will I wear you down if I keep flaunting? Will you be able to keep your hands off me?"
He laughed deeply at the fairly accurate picture of Diana grinding her teeth in rage.
"Shall I teach you how to flaunt, Diana? Of course, women seem to do it naturally, but perhaps you would like lessons? I could advertise myself as a Flaunter Extraordinaire if ever I find myself in a financial quandary. What do you think?"
"I am delighted that you find your own wit so amusing. But then again, you are your own best audience."
He leaned his elbows on his knees, cupping his chin in his hands. "Did I ever tell you about a little bitch I had as a boy? As in a female dog, I meant to say. I didn't? Well, my dear, her name was Chloe, a silly name perhaps, but it suited her mongrel breeding. I found her nearly starved in a ditch, and saved her hide. Was she ecstatic about my saving her? Oh, no, she wouldn't bring herself to trust me. Every time I tried affection, she bit my hand. A most ungrateful bitch, wouldn't you say?"
"A very smart bitch!"
"Well, in any case, taming her became my ardent goal. She continued to snarl and bite at the touch of my hand on her until I finally brought her to my bed. I would talk to her at night, in the dark, much the same as we do every evening. After a week or so, I discovered that she had moved from the foot of the bed to its middle. Not long after that, I found her snuggling against my chest. Then she was licking my face. She loved me to scratch her ears and her tail would wag with pleasure."
"Are you through yet?"
"No. To my boy's delight, she became my devoted pet, following me everywhere, listening to me with profound interest each time I spoke. It was most gratifying."
Lyon paused, waiting for the blast of Diana's cannon.
"Do you not appreciate the parallel?"
"I have never bitten your hand, to the best of my recollection," she said finally, and Lyon was certain he heard suppressed laughter in her voice. She was back on an even keel. And he was still beset with the same problem.
"Do you trust me, Diana?"
"I might perhaps learn to if you were to scratch my elbows."
"Would your tail wag with pleasure?"
Her pillow struck his face. "Now, now," he chided her, "a nest is not complete without its pillow. Here." He tossed it back. "Where was I?"
"Lyon, you did not find me starving in a ditch. I am not a bitch to be tamed."
"Most women are."
"You are showing classic symptoms of your Charlotte's Disease again."
"Am I? Perhaps you have a point. Well, I will consider it. Now, can you go to sleep without falling into tears again?"
"You are a wretched clod, Lyonel Ashton!"
"Ah, more compliments. I fear to expire from your verbal bounty."
As for Diana, she decided she was safe from his assault for four more days and nights. Her brain was fertile. She would come up with something. It was odd, but it gave her little pleasure to thwart him, not really.
The damned arrogant beast. A bitch to be tamed, was she?
The weather held fair, the wind steady. The Seawitch glided toward St. Thomas in record time.
"Not long at all now," Rafael said to Diana, who had taken a turn at the giant wheel. "A bit higher in the wind," he added.
"She responds so beautifully," Diana said, raising her face higher to see the sails swell more fully. "Not at all like my little sloop."
"You are an excellent sailor, for a female."
She frowned at that and saw his wicked grin. "You and Lyon," she said.
"A compliment, I take it. Blick tells me that you have ravished his poor brain of all knowledge. You appear to be a woman of many talents, Diana."
She smiled at him, abstracted, for the Seawitch heeled sharply at that moment. She straightened the wheel, realizing that her muscles were sore from controlling the ship's course.
"I am certain your husband must agree," he added deliberately.
Her brows lowered. "Lyon is, well, he is mostAh, look, Rafael, a frigate bird! Look at that long forked tail. We are nearing home."
"A pity."
"A pity what?"
"Th
at you didn't finish that undoubtedly fascinating thought about your husband."
He knows, she realized. He knows. But how? Had Lyon told him the truth? Was that his new ploy? Her monthly flow had ended several days before, but Lyon had made no attempt to seduce her. She wished she knew what he was up to, but she refused to let Rafael draw her into showing her feelings. Or perhaps Lyon had simply decided she wasn't worth his trouble or his continued blandishments. Perhaps he no longer sought the honorable path. She was being a nodcock, she thought, shaking her head. After all, his honorable path wasn't hers.
"I should love to wash my hair," she said. "Do you think you could produce some rain for us?"
"Likely. Look yon, toward the east. I should say we'll have enough rain fall to fill an extra barrel for your hair."
"By evening?"
"Yes, I think so. Now, give me the wheel before your arms become useless sticks. Like most females, the Seawitch needs a strong hand upon occasion. Actually, most of the time." He gave her a rakish grin, but she found herself wondering if he weren't utterly serious. Did he dislike women for some reason and was forcing himself to be kind to her because of Lyon? Could Charlotte's Disease be that prevalent?
"I think, Captain Carstairs, that you will probably meet a violent end. At the hands of a woman."
To her surprise, he reacted to her simple jest with thinned lips and his expression grew so grim that it frightened her. Then he smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "That, my lady, is a distinct possibility."
She left him in complete disarray. She would never understand men.
She found Lyon perched on a thick coiled rope talking to Rollo. He was obviously enjoying himself. She observed him a moment, unnoticed. He wasn't so darkly tanned as Rollo --- or Rafael, for that matter --- but to her jaundiced eye, he looked beautiful. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and she looked at his forearms. He had, she decided, a manly tan and very strong manly muscles. She shook herself. She was being silly and perverse. Lyon saw her at that moment and paused in his speech.
Rollo stared, taken aback by the intense hunger he saw in the earl's eyes. He said a bit nervously, "Your lady is here. I shall see you later, my lord."
"You are a beautiful creature," Lyon said as she approached him, "despite the freckles that are proliferating at a great rate." He stretched out, leaning back on his elbows. "Stay there, if you please, Diana. I am hot and you are blocking out the sun."
"I want to talk to you, Lyon."
"Behold a man who awaits your every utterance with utmost attention."
"Be serious!"
"Why?"
"Lyon, Rafael knows. I demand to know if you told him."
"Told him what, Diana? That instead of being my loving wife you are my panting mistress?"
Diana slapped down her skirts at a gust of wind. Sighing, she sat down beside him. She didn't look at him. He enjoyed her profile for several moments. Damn her, he even admired the shape of her small ears.
"Yes," she said at last, turning to face him, "that is what I meant. Is your plan to add the poor captain to your campaign?"
"Is that what Rafael told you?"
"No, from his tone, I just knew that he knew."
"Actually, Rafael spoke to me some time ago. The man isn't a fool, Diana. I shouldn't be surprised if both Rollo and Blick also were aware of oursituation."
Diana picked up the end of the rope and began practicing some knots. Her fingers were long and nimble. He thought of her fingers stroking his body, caressing him, holding himHe wished he could groan.
"For some inexplicable reason," he continued thoughtfully, swallowing both the images and the groan, "they seem to hold you in some esteem, thus their show of respect for you even though you sleep with me."
"I don't sleep with you, Lyon."
"Close enough. Three feet of distance isn't much, is it?"
"It is enough for a continent."
He chuckled. "You know, it has been a long time since I was this relaxed. A sea voyage, I think, is a great restorative."
She said in a nasty voice, "Restorative from what? Overindulgence with your little amour?"
"Jealousy, my dear? It pleases me, I suppose, though I do grow tired of the game."
"I am playing no game, Lyon."
"Are you not? Well, perhaps you aren't. I have decided that you are likely right. Why should I care, after all, if you are ostracized by your close-knit little society? If you are called trollop, whore, or slut? I shall endeavor to escape your father's ire, I think, conduct my business, and return home. What you will do is your business."
"You are finally showing signs of intelligence," she said, but her tone lacked conviction. Indeed, to his sensitive ears, she sounded upset, perhaps bereft. Excellent, he thought. Deliberately he raised his hand and lightly stroked his fingertips over her ear. She grew very still, then jerked away from him.
"You know, Diana," he said thoughtfully, watching her closely, "it might be to your best advantage to gain some experience before you are hurled as a labeled trollop among the males. Perhaps if one of them touched your ear as I just did, you could learn not to react so strongly. You mustn't show interest, you know, or pleasure, as you just did with me."
"If I could manage it, I would hurl you overboard." She jumped to her feet, slapped down her billowing skirts once more, and turned away. She heard his mocking, quite satisfied laughter follow her.
It rained several hours later, just as Rafael had predicted. Diana scratched her scalp impatiently, hoping there would be enough rainwater for a good scrubbing. She ate her dinner alone in the cabin, then asked Neddie to fetch her a tub.
When the warm water steamed upward from the wooden tub, she raised a smiling face to Neddie. "Are the captain and my husband still at dinner?"
"I believe they are playing cards, my lady. I brought them a bottle or brandy."
Diana just smiled. Neddie stoutly refused to call her Diana.
"Thank you," she said.
Once alone, she unbraided her hair in record time, removed her clothing, and stepped into the tub. As she sank down, she gave a heartfelt sigh of sheer pleasure. She washed her hair with lavender-scented soap, her favorite, then washed it again. "I am human again," she said to herself.
"Indeed, a most delightful female human, I should say."
Water splashed over the sides of the tub as she jerked upright, her eyes flying to his face.
"How dare you! Get out, Lyon!"
"Your hair is quite long and thick. I cannot see a bit of you, more's the pity."
He was standing over her, his hands on his hips. There was a gleam in his blue eyes that made her feel the oddest sensations. She gulped, unconsciously covering her breasts with her hands, even though they were hidden through a thick veil of wet hair. "Please," she said, her voice shaking, "please, just leave."
"No."
He sat down in the chair at the desk and put his feet on the desktop. He looked completely at his ease. "I have been waiting for some rain."
"I suspect you need to bathe as well!"
"I did. A group of us stripped on deck and cavorted about. We used soap, but it wasn't as sweet-smelling as yours. A manly soap, I suppose you would call it. It was a most exhilarating experience. Since you were avoiding me, I had no worry that you would wander up and surprise us."
Diana eyed the thick towels on the floor, three feet beyond her reach. "You are supposed to be playing cards with Rafael."
"Not a chance."
"Neddie said he took you a bottle of brandy."
"I left it with Rafael."
"You are not a gentleman, Lyon."
"No, perhaps not, but I am a determined man, Diana. You know, my dear, if I look closely enough, I can see the white swell of your breasts."
She howled, and he laughed.
"Are you not flaunting yourself for me?"
"Lyon, get out!"
"You are growing repetitive, Diana. Should you like me to join you? I could manage it, I think.
Picture yourself wrapped around me."
She could picture it, and that made her furious with him and with herself. "Lyon, I will surely do something awful to you if you do not leave, now."
"Visions of goatweed?"
"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?"
"Well, I do prefer to make love when my partner is clean and sweet as fresh summer grass. Is that lavender? Very nice." Her eyebrows were lowered, but he merely looked amused. "You see, I fully intend to kiss every inch of you. I should prefer it, of course, if your hair were dry, but I shall make do. Now, isn't the water growing a bit chilly? Aren't you becoming a bit wrinkled from your overlong stay?"
She was becoming shriveled --- hang the temperature of the water. She had to get control of this ridiculous situation. She calmly began cupping water in her hands and pour it on her hair. Then she gathered up her hair and began wringing it out. From where he was sitting, she didn't think he could see her, at least not clearly. She wound her hair about her head, twisted it so it would stay in place for a little while, then with no warning, she hurled the sponge and the bar of lavender soap at him.
She didn't look to see how true her aim was, just leapt out of the tub and grabbed for the towel. She didn't turn to face him until she was well and thoroughly covered.
He was wiping his face, and he was frowning.
She laughed.
"No," he said quietly to her, "you won't ever bore me, Diana."
"Well, you bore me! Now will you leave, Lyon? Your sport is well over."
"I did see a flash of beautiful white," he said, and sighed dramatically. He picked up the sponge and wiped the soap from his face. "You are either an excellent shot or very lucky. Which is it?"
Luck, she thought, but said, "I am good at many things."
"Tonight, I will test your claim."
She stood in the middle of the cabin, a thick towel wrapped securely about her, regarding him in stony silence. What to do? He looked in complete control. Worse, he looked determined.
Suddenly, her eyes glittered as she recalled his mocking conversation of the afternoon. Why not use it against him? She assumed what she thought to be a seductive pose. "You know, Lyon, I have always found you a lovely specimen of manhood." She slowly licked her tongue over her lower lip. Did he stiffen? "Perhaps I should let you give me lessons. You did offer, did you not? There are many men, you know, in the West Indies, lonely men who find me beautiful, who want me, who would give me great pleasure once I knew what it was all about. I think perhaps I should like to sample what they have to offer. What matter if you are the first? You certainly will not be the last."