"I have this feeling that Rafael isn't your average merchant captain," Lyon said. "There is a mystery surrounding that man and his voyage to St. Thomas."
Suddenly, the immediate fear over, Diana turned to look at Lyon. His hair was plastered against his head, his clothes clinging to his body. She watched him pull off his boots.
"It would appear," she said slowly, "that my virtue was saved by the French."
He looked over at her, wriggling his toes in the sand. "Let us say that you are still a half-virgin, at least for the present."
She could feel him inside of her, pressing, and she jerked at the vivid image. She sat down on the sand and lowered her head between her knees.
"I hope we are on one of your paradise islands and not the barren sort. Do you happen to know where we are? Which island?"
"No, at least not yet. Perhaps in the morning I will recognize something."
Lyon got to his feet and looked around. "I suppose we should do something. Make a shelter." Suddenly a raindrop hit his nose. "Rain," he said blankly. "Bloody hell!"
The moon was suddenly obscured. Diana raised her face and felt the rain begin to clean away the saltwater. "I hope it storms hard. It just might save Rafael and the Seawitch. Yes, shelter."
They walked away from the water, then Lyon paused, reality hitting. "I haven't the foggiest notion of how to survive on an island."
The rain was coming down in sheets now.
Diana said, "First of all, go down the beach a bit, take off your clothes and wash off. Your clothes too, else they'll feel miserable and stiff when they are dry."
He nodded and walked away from her. Diana waited until he had turned a bend around the beach, then stripped off her clothes. She washed her hair and her body in the warm, pulsing rain. Like Lyon's tongue and mouth and fingers and hisStop it, you silly fool! She grabbed up her clothes and rinsed them out. She hated to put on the wet chemise and gown, but there was no chance she would parade about in front of Lyon without a stitch on. She was picking up her sodden slippers when he returned.
"Now what?"
"It's too dark to gather palm fronds for a shelter. Let's try to find some thick foliage to protect us from the worst of it for the rest of the night. We need to sleep."
"Perhaps there are people on this island."
"Perhaps," she agreed. She wouldn't tell him yet, but if there were no fresh water on the island, they would be in a sorry condition indeed, and in a very short time.
They made their way inland and soon found a tangle of growth that kept the most of the rain from them.
"At least we won't freeze to death," Diana said as she eased herself down. She hated the wet clothes, the clammy feeling. Lyon came down beside her, leaning his back against what Diana called a manchineel tree. "Just don't touch the leaves, Lyon. They cause blistering."
"I'm surprised you told me."
"If you did rub the leaves, I would just have to listen to your complaints. Besides, you wouldn't be able to help me."
"Such warmth and caring," he said, and sighed. The branches and leaves were so thick overhead that only an occasional raindrop came through. "This is most bizarre. Alone with you of all people on a desert island"
"You are most lucky that it isn't a desert island! So far I have seen abundant coconut palms and some sugar-apple trees. We won't starve. Furthermore, Lyon, if you weren't with me, I wouldn't place your chances for survival very high."
Surprisingly, he agreed. "I wish now that I had read Robinson Crusoe after the precocious age of eight. I don't remember a thing."
"It will be all right," she said firmly. "Rafael will escape the French, what with the storm. He will come back for us in no time at all."
"If for no other reason than to have you grateful to him to get you in his bed."
She sucked in her breath. "Unlike you, my lord, Rafael is a gentleman."
He laughed and raindrops fell on their faces from the disturbed leaves above their heads.
"Let's try to get some sleep. I hope there are no creatures about to nibble on us?"
"Do you hear that chirping sound? That's a coqui. A tree frog. He doesn't do nibbling. There is nothing awful to frighten you, I promise."
"You sound like my old nanny telling me that there were no monsters in the night to eat little boys. Good night. I need my strength to accept your directions on survival."
He thought she muttered a curse, but he couldn't make it out. He grinned, thinking yet again that never in his wildest dreams had he pictured himself in such a strange situation.
"Beware the iguana, Lyon."
He started. "What the hell is that?"
"Iguanas look like monsters, but they're more afraid of you than the other way around. There aren't many of them around now."
"Now that you've provided fodder for my dreams, I'll thank you to keep your mouth closed."
He awoke once during the long night, found Diana snuggled against him, and smiled. He pulled her close. Before he found sleep again, he was very aware of every foreign sound, aware of the dense growth all around them.
This is not at all the place for an English earl, he thought.
16
Base and squalid things have no appeal for men of noble virtue.
—SENECA
"My God! What the hell is that?"
Lyon was eye to eye with a ferret-sized creature. It was repulsive, and to wake up so, it was a shock.
Diana jerked awake, felt Lyon as tense as a bowstring, and laughed when she saw what had startled him.
"It's only a mongoose," she said, still laughing, buffeting him on his shoulder. She watched the mongoose scurry away. "He was imported by early settlers to keep down the rats who destroyed the sugarcane. He's not so popular anymore as he's too prolific and eats everything in sight."
"Thank you," he said politely. "I don't believe how green everything is. I feel like I've been grown over during the night with green."
"Could be with the heavy rain." She sat up beside him. "Well, my front is dry but my back feels dreadful." She stretched. "Once in the sun, though, we'll be dry within thirty minutes."
"Your back is dryer than mine, I'll wager, since you were using me for your nest."
He looked over at his once-fine leather boots. Even they looked damp and green. He was sore, clammy from a wet backside, and still off-balance from his encounter with that mongoose. He watched Diana rise and stretch, quite thoroughly this time. His body, without his permission, reacted immediately. "Damn you," he muttered.
She stared down at him. "I have said nothing untoward. Are you always such a curmudgeon in the morning?"
He rose and shook off the excess foliage that clung to his clothes. "That is the stupidest thing I've heard you say. For God's sake, our situation is hardly commonplace. I just hope I don't look as dreadful as you do." He stalked off to relieve himself.
Diana stared after him. "I would sail away and leave you here if I could," she said after his retreating back.
That brought a snort, but nothing else. Diana took care of her own needs, then made her way back to the beach. Lyon was already there, his face raised to the bright early-morning sun.
"The first thing to do after breakfast is to make ourselves some hats," she said. "The sun here will roast you like a fowl."
He didn't reply, merely looked out at the water. "Under other circumstances I would say this is the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. The water is crystal blue --- at least I think that's what the color is. And the beach, my God, the sand is white." He leaned down and took a handful of sand, letting the grains fall from between his fingers. "Just look, Diana, it's truly white."
She smiled, delighted that he loved her home. Her smile fell away quickly enough. Damn him, he'd tried to ravish her!
"After you are over your raptures, find a rock. We will have coconut for breakfast. Perhaps later I can find some cassava --- it's a root I can grind into flour and make some flat bread."
As she ate her coconut
meat, she busily planned what they would do. Unbidden, after she'd thought about the shelter they'd build, the image of Lyon, naked, covering her, came starkly into her mind. She could feel his fingers parting her, his mouth on her. She closed her eyes. At least she knew well enough that she looked perfectly awful. Surely he wouldn't be interested in repeating his ravaging. Unconsciously, she began untangling her hair with her fingers.
Lyon, amused, sat back and watched her. "I've never before eaten coconut. It is quite tasty. You look wonderful, Diana."
"Ha!"
Lyon leaned back, supporting himself on his elbows. "I just assumed that you wanted to make yourself presentable for me. With your hair untangled, you can lie on top of me and make your hair my blanket, along with your body."
She jumped to her feet. Hands on her hips, she frowned down at him. "I do not understand how you can even think about such things in light of where we are."
"Why were you trying to fix your hair, if not to seduce me? I've given you a taste of sex and doubtless now you'll be the one to attack me."
She had no answer to that and simply turned around. She said over her shoulder, "I am going to make myself a hat. If you wish to make yourself one, come along."
Within an hour, they had fashioned primitive hats from pal fronds. "I suggest you keep your shirt on, Lyon. The sun will bake you."
"I just wanted to flaunt myself for you. Without words, are you? Well, then, back to business. Do you have any idea where we might be?"
"I've been trying to figure that out. We can't be too far from Virgin Gorda."
"A fat virgin?"
She giggled. "Isn't that marvelous? Actually that island used to be the capital long ago before it was moved to Tortola. The name is due to the shape, which, as you can imagine, is quite large in the middle. As for exactly where we are, I truly cannot be certain. As for people living here, Lyon, I shouldn't pin your hopes on it."
"No, I shan't. I wonder how large the island is."
"We can explore later. Perhaps I will see something I recognize from another vantage point."
"All right, my dear. What is next thing on our list of things to do?"
He learned about guavaberries, a starchy fruit they would have to bake before they could eat it. Diana found the cassava and dug up the roots with a stick.
And all around them was lush beauty and so many bright flowers that Lyon gave up on remembering their names. "There is a turtledove," Diana said, pointing up at the low branch of what Lyon recalled was a cycad tree at a sleek bird with white wingtips. "The island of Tortola is named after it."
"It's the flowers I find truly amazing," he said. He plucked a scarlet hibiscus and gave it to Diana. Obligingly, she tucked it over her left ear.
"Very beautiful," he said, his fingertips lightly caressing her cheek. Before she could jerk away from him, he added, "Is my face as red as yours?"
"Yes. Keep your hat on. This afternoon we must stay in the shade."
Lyon hadn't the foggiest notion of how to produce a fire. He watched, fascinated, as Diana managed to produce a spark from the sticks she was rubbing together. She leaned her head down and gently blew on the spark, then fanned it gently with her hand. "There," she said, sitting back on her heels. "Now I can make us a marvelous lunch!"
They constructed a small stone oven of sorts. Lyon wove palm fronds together the way she had shown him, and watched Diana pound the cassava root into flour.
"Water," she said suddenly. "The time has come, Lyon. We've got to find some fresh water."
He just stared at her a long moment. They'd drunk the milk from the coconut earlier. "I hadn't thought of that," he said slowly, the implications rising in his mind with alarming accuracy.
They collected hollow coconut shells and went inland. "We must look very carefully," she said, pushing a branch of a tree out of her way. "Let's take some of this fruit. It's mango and quite good just as it is."
"Why must we look carefully?"
"If we find fresh water, it is very likely that it will be surrounded by so much foliage that we won't at first see it."
The island rose only very slightly, but the humidity and the struggle through the dense undergrowth left them quickly winded. They found a pond fifteen minutes later. It was the most beautiful spot Lyon had ever seen. Vivid pink oleanders and scarlet hibiscus were everywhere, and the brightest greens he had ever witnessed surrounded the small pool.
It didn't look at all stagnant, which surprised him. "Can we also bathe here?"
"Yes, certainly. It is fresh because it usually rains in the afternoon."
"Will you bathe with me? Think of the fun we could have."
"Go to the devil, Lyon."
"Let's get our water, then I am going to strip and wallow in that pool."
She wanted to also and eyed it wistfully. She looked up to see him shrugging out of his shirt, then peeling off his britches. She turned quickly around waiting until she heard a splash and a groan of pleasure.
"I've died and gone to heaven," he said, grinning at her. "Look, Diana, keep on your chemise. Come on, I swear not to ravish you."
"There is so much more we have to do," she began.
"And all the time in the world to do it. Come on." With those words, he turned and swam to the other side of the pool.
Diana slipped off her gown and jumped into the water. It wasn't deep, just barely over her head in the middle. She kicked off the sandy bottom. "Ah," she said with great satisfaction when her head cleared the water.
He watched her unbraid her hair and fan it out around her. She looked happy and carefree as a child. He felt something change deep inside him. It was a very warm, a very expanding feeling. "It was that coconut I ate," he said to himself. "It's making me bilious."
"Did you say something?"
He wanted to swim to her and wrap her hair around him. But he had promised, more fool he. He said instead, "The name 'Virgin Gorda' is delightful. Are there others as intriguing?"
She swam toward him, stretched out, and found that her feet touched bottom. "Well, there's Beef Island and Peter Island. Not terribly enchanting. How about Dead Chest or Ginger Island?"
"Virgin Gorda will remain my favorite. What is the Spanish word for slender or thin?"
"Why?"
He grinned at her. "I want to find a suitable nickname for you, my dear."
"In that case I shan't tell you! Besides, you told me I wasn't a complete virgin anymore."
At that moment, he actually felt again his manhood pressing briefly against her maidenhead. He shuddered, his eyes closing. He felt the tightness of her, the warmth. "You're virgin enough," he said, and he sounded as if he were in pain.
"Lyon?"
"Leave it, Diana. Do your survival accomplishments include the making of soap?"
She shook her head regretfully. "We haven't the means or the ingredients. However, if you get a handful of sand from the bottom, you can scrub with it."
He disappeared underwater. She watched him sand his chest, his neck, then his thick hair. "Shall I sand your hair for you?"
She shook her head, mute. He was so beautiful. She wanted to touch him, his chest, his face, feel the texture of his hair.
She went on the attack, the verbal attack to cover her lapse. "For a London dandy, you're taking all this surprisingly well."
"I am, aren't I? However, if pirates land, I shan't be able to protect you."
"There have been no pirates for nearly a hundred years."
"Will you tell me pirate tales at night around a campfire?"
"The ones I know would probably keep both of us awake. Now, my lord earl, it is time we got ourselves together." She swam back and prepared to climb onto the bank. She swiveled about to face him. "Lyon, you will turn your back please."
"No."
She frowned at him, but it did no good. He merely grinned at her, the vision of the unrepentant. She climbed out with very little grace.
"Lovely."
She whirled around,
and again he felt that tightening feeling. Her chemise came only to above her knees and her wet hair streamed over her shoulders and down her back. "You have beautiful legs. As for the rest of you, I can still see your white bottom and ---"
"Stop it!" She grabbed her gown and retreated behind a frangipani shrub.
She couldn't bear to put her gown on over her wet chemise. She peeked around between the trees and saw Lyon climb out of the pool. She quickly closed her eyes, slipped out of her chemise in record time, and was fastening her gown before he could have moved.
"A pity."
She looked up to see him standing in front of her, clothed only in his britches. "What is a pity?"
"Had I been but a moment quicker, mine eyes would have seen all the glory."
She grinned, unable to help herself. She began wringing out her long hair. A few minutes later, she braided it.
They found a shortcut back to their temporary home. Diana made some flat cassava bread to go with the guavas for their lunch.
"I think I'll keep you around," Lyon said, patted his stomach, and leaned back against a palm tree.
"Thank you. At least now you've got the right idea. We must stay in the shade until late afternoon. Nap if you wish."
"How about finishing off your virginity instead? I think I could summon up the energy."
"It's cool in the shade, not more than eighty degrees, I'd say. But in the sun ---"
"Not going to answer me, huh? I can't interest you in a little dalliance? After all, you did assure me that you ---"
"Lyon, I lied."
"What about this time?"
Diana eyed him with growing anger. He was lying on his back, the very picture of indolence, his palm-frond hat pillowing his head against the palm trunk. His white shirt was unbuttoned to his waist, his arms crossed over his chest. Damn him, even his bare feet were lovely, long, narrow, but reddened from the sun. Well, nothing manly about sunburned feet.
"What about?" he repeated, slanting her a look.
"Never mind," she said abruptly, now regretting the temporary softness of her brain.
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