Calypso Magic

by Catherine Coulter

  Sweetheart? His voice was so smooth, the bees would mistake him for honey.

  "I'm not sure," she said, relieved that she could say that much. She felt as if she were on display, a discomfiting feeling that she didn't like. To her combined chagrin and relief, Lyon merely nodded and rose.

  "I do believe I'm bored. I think I'll swim a bit before dinner. See you later, Diana."

  "I hope a stingray gets you," she called after him. "One barb from its tail and you'll howl like a banshee!"

  Lyon didn't reply, nor did he turn around. He was grinning, a triumphant, satisfied male grin. He finally had her where he wanted her. She'd finally decided to accept him, all of him.

  He hummed a sailor's ditty he'd learned from Rollo. It was about a female pirate who found her errant husband in a bordello in St. Thomas and stabbed him. He wondered if the story were true.

  "The grouper isn't bad at all," Diana said, licking her fingers. "But the conch steak is awful. It's so tough my teeth feel like they'll pop out."

  "Pop out? You mean like your bosom? What an awesome thought."

  Her immediate thought was to yell at him, but she stopped herself. He expected her to be embarrassed, to berate him for his drawing comments. Instead, she tried for a flirting smile. It wasn't much of one, but it was a start. "You mean that you find my bosom awesome, Lyon?"

  He looked momentarily startled, and she was pleased. But it wasn't to last.

  "Well," he said, tossing fish bones over his shoulder, "I'm not certain if awesome is the correct word. I do remember that your breasts more than fill my hands. And my hands, as you've noticed, are quite large." He held them up in front of him, cupping them.

  She slouched forward, out of habit.

  He had the bad grace to laugh. "That helps very little, my dear girl. You cannot make those lovely attributes disappear, thank the good Lord."

  "What about you?"

  "One look, one I-suppose-I'm-interested look, and you'll see soon enough."

  "Lyon," she said, her voice thin, bordering on invisible.

  He sat forward suddenly and took her hand in his. "I enjoy fencing with you. Perhaps in several decades from now, you'll be able to carry it to the finish line."

  She blurted out, her eyes on his brown hand holding hers, "Hawk and Frances love each other to distraction!"

  "Yes, they do," he said, lightly stroking her hand. "But it wasn't always so. Like us, in a sense, they were forced to wed each other. Frances, bless her imagination, disguised herself as a dowd, and Hawk, the blind idiot, didn't see through her disguise. When he at last saw her as the beauty she really is, the fun began."

  "And you did? Saw through her disguise, I mean?"

  "Yes. I was quite insightful in those days."

  "You mean pre-Charlotte days?"

  "If you will. Now perhaps I see things and people even more clearly. It's a beautiful evening, isn't it? I believe I'll take my constitutional." With those words, he rose and strolled away.

  Diana stared after him. What game was he playing? On the heels of that thought, she began to wonder if he simply wasn't interested anymore.

  It was dark and still, even the coquis and the bananaquits quiet. Diana slowly turned onto her back, careful not to disarrange the palm fronds beneath her. She tried to think of her father, of her new stepmother, but Lyon filled her mind. And her body. Her skin felt itchy, as if it were stretched too tightly over her bones. And there was that ache between her thighs that made her squirm. Where was he? Taking his wretched constitutional, she mouthed with silent sarcasm.

  It was all she could do not to get up and go find him. And then do what?

  She flung her arm over her eyes to shut out the moonlight and forced herself to take deep breaths.

  "Diana."

  His voice was quiet, yet commanding. Slowly, she moved her arm and opened her eyes. Her breathing quickened as she came up on her elbows. He was standing just outside their shelter, the moonlight streaming over his body. He was quite naked.

  "Take off the chemise."

  His voice remained gentle, no lurking amusement. She drew a deep breath and very slowly lifted the chemise over her head and tossed it beside her.

  "I've given you enough time, have I not? You want me now."

  "Yes."

  Was that her voice? Wistful and filled with longing?

  "I want you to remember this moment, Diana. Just as I want you to forget that evening on the Seawitch. This is the first time we will come together. When we are old and crotchety, we will still come together, but this is the first time and it is magic." At least he prayed it would resemble magic. He was so randy, so much in need of her, he just didn't know.

  She thought, I haven't even touched him and yet his manhood is swelled and thrusting out from his belly. She tried to imagine how she would feel with him fully inside her.

  "Yes," she said, "this is magic, but I am afraid all the same."

  "By the time I come into you, you will feel only desire, I swear it."

  Still he hadn't moved. He was waiting, waiting for her to invite him to her. There would be no question of forcing this time.

  "You will be my husband."

  Lyon realized of course that she was stating a fact that she had finally accepted. He wished he weren't so obvious, but there was nothing he could do about it. He wanted her so much he hurt. But then again, he'd hurt for so long, what did a few more minutes matter?

  "Yes, I will be your husband. I will take care of you, Diana, protect you, and probably fight with you until the day I leave this earth. I will try to make you happy."

  "And will you love me?"

  There, it was said. Her words hovered between them.

  "If I do not come to love you, I will be most astounded at my shallowness. I am most fond of you, I find you delightful, and I will come to trust you, surely. It must be enough for both of us for the present. I will not lie to you, Diana."

  She was silent for a long moment. Finally, she said, "Do you think I am beautiful?"

  He trembled and she saw it. His voice was thick and harsh. "I think you are the most exquisite creature imaginable."

  "You are too."

  He smiled. "I want to touch you now, Diana. I want to kiss every inch of you. I want to love you and caress you until you are silly with it."

  "All right," she said, and lay back. "Can I do those things to you?"

  Lyon wondered if he could control himself. She could have no idea as yet how desperate a man could be. The thought of her kissing him, touching himHe wouldn't hurt her. He had been so certain he could control himself before she'd taken her chemise off. "I don't know if that would be such a good idea this time."

  He drew a deep breath and stepped toward her. He eased down beside her, not touching her yet, just looking into her eyes. They were dark, luminous, filled with moonlight and anticipation. He could feel the warmth from her body.

  He leaned over her and very lightly kissed her mouth. He felt her hand come up and gently touch his bare shoulder. He kissed her more deeply. Her fingers tightened.

  Very gently, he placed his open palm against her breast. He felt her body leap, felt her sharp intake of breath. He recited Latin declensions to himself. Merciful heavens, he should have relieved his need before coming to her. He drew back, striving desperately for control.

  "Lyon?"

  "It's you, Diana, you are presenting me with a problem. You see, I want you too much. Just touching your breast is driving me beyond reason." He felt her quiver with his words, and quickly lifted his hand from her breast.

  "I don't understand."

  Too much innocence, he thought, looking down at her widened eyes, seeing the confusion in their depths.

  "I want to come inside you. Now. I hurt so much I want to howl at the moon."

  "All right." To his consternation, those long legs of hers parted.

  He groaned. Merciful heavens, he wanted to go slowly, give her pleasure, but without his permission, his hand slid over h
er belly and cupped her, his fingertips pressing inward to find her.

  Diana froze. She heard his harsh breathing, felt him looking down at her even as his fingers pressed and stroked. She wanted in that instant to run, to escape, to be free of him and herself, to remain unchanged.

  "You're becoming wet."

  "Oh, no," she gasped, and her thighs closed tightly, capturing his hand between them.

  She felt his fingers gently parting her; then, before she could react, one finger slowly slipped inside her. She couldn't stop her body's reaction. She was throbbing, convulsing about his finger as it went deeper.

  "Lyon, oh"

  "Yes, sweetheart. It's all right. You're doing fine. With any luck at all we shall soon be in the same boat, so to speak."

  He leaned down and kissed her again. His tongue slipped between her parted lips, just as his finger was inside her. She felt his manhood pressing urgently against her thigh.

  He felt her maidenhead. He pressed gently, but the thin barrier held. He would spill his seed, he knew it. And he wanted desperately to be inside her.

  "Diana, listen to me. I must come into you now or I will leave you. Do you understand?"

  His finger was inside her, gently probing, and his voice was harsh against her cheek, his breathing sharp, as though he were in pain. She didn't understand, but she knew she could help him. "Yes, Lyon," she heard herself saying softly. She gently clutched his shoulders, drawing him closer.

  He eased his finger out of her, felt her suck in her breath, and gently moved over her, parting her legs wide as he eased between them.

  "Bend your knees." He cupped her face between his hands. "I want to see your face when I come inside you."

  He reared back slightly, and she felt his manhood straining against her. Then he was inside her, gently pressing forward. Her eyes were wide upon his face and she saw his intense concentration. She had never imagined such a feeling, such warmth. She wasn't the least bit afraid, not now.

  Suddenly, she stiffened, and the gentle feelings disappeared in a rush of pain. He would rend her, tear her. "No, Lyon, please, it hurts."

  "Diana, sweetheartOh, dammit!"

  He thrust forward, plunging through her maidenhead, and she cried out, her body bucking in pain. She couldn't dislodge him. He was deep inside her, a part of her now.

  He held her face between his hands. His breathing was harsh, but he filled her now. "Hold still." He forced himself to stay quiet. He eased his body over her and began kissing her. "Feel me, Diana. Get used to me. Do you still hurt?"

  "A little."

  "It will ease," he said, but he heard the tears in her voice and felt her pain, and he hated himself for doing this to her. He hadn't intended it to be this way, but it was simply too much. He felt like a selfish pig, a

  "You are so deep inside me. I can feel you throbbing. It is the strangest feeling."

  That did it. He groaned harshly, pulled himself back, then thrust forward wildly. He threw back his head, his back arching as he drove deep again, touching her womb, and he spilled himself within her.

  He heard her moan, a soft, helpless sound that struck him to his very soul. Some magic you've wrought, you randy bastard.

  He came down over her, bearing his weight on his elbows, and tried not to move, but she was so small, so tight around him. He kissed her mouth and tasted the salt of her tears. "I am sorry, so very sorry for hurting you, Diana."

  The pain was fading, but she felt stretched to bursting and she was wet. "Will you stay as you are?"

  "What?"

  "Will you stay inside me all night?"

  He wanted to laugh at that, but he felt himself harden and knew that possessing her once was only the beginning.

  "Would you mind?"

  "If it stops hurting, no, I shouldn't mind. It is all just very odd."

  He supposed that odd was accurate enough, since she hadn't experienced pleasure.

  "I am very wet."

  He felt himself jerk inside her and drew a deep breath. "You are wet with me, this time. With my seed."

  "What do you mean, 'this time'?"

  "My dearest girl, it is my pleasurable responsibility to ensure that when I come inside you, you will, ah, well, not be dry, I guess. It makes everything easier. You were ready for me, I should say, it is just that I rushed you."

  He eased out of her, feeling her flinch as he did so, and stretched out beside her. "You want to know what we're going to do now?"

  She gave him a wary look.

  He grinned and came to his feet. "You stay there, Diana. I shall be back in a moment."

  "Where are you going?"

  "Just stay still."

  She didn't want to stay still. She felt sticky, tender, and sore. Worse, she felt herself throbbing with feelings that didn't want to go away.

  "Don't move, Diana," she heard him call from a few feet away.

  18

  Success is dependent on effort.

  —SOPHOCLES

  After a few minutes, she came up on her elbows. "Lyon?"

  "Here I am. Don't move."

  He came down on his knees beside her. He was holding half a coconut shell filled with fresh water and his breechcloth. He dampened it, smiled at her, reaching out his hand.

  "Oh, dear, you can't mean toLyon. I can surely do that myself."

  "Hush," he said. He gently pulled her legs apart. He bent her knees and she felt dreadfully exposed. She gulped, trying to bring her thighs together.

  He looked up at her face. "Diana, think of me as your husband now. All right? It is your duty to obey me. Now hold still."

  She felt the wet cloth touching her. She closed her eyes tightly, with the absurd thought that if she couldn't see what he was doing, neither could he.

  The cool wet cloth felt marvelously nice, she had to admit, as well as the slight pressure of his hand against her. She felt the building of that warm, aching sensation and unconsciously moved against his hand.

  Lyon felt her reaction and looked at her face. Her head was turned slightly, her eyes closed tightly. He smiled to himself. "Diana, I'm going to tell you something and I don't want you to be worried about it."

  She kept her eyes firmly closed. "What?"

  "When I came into you, broke through your maidenhead, you bled. It isn't much, and it won't happen again, but that's why I wanted to bathe you. I didn't want you to be worried or frightened. There, all done."

  She tried to close her legs, but he was firmly planted between them. "Lyon," she said, her voice thin with embarrassment.

  "I wish it were daylight."

  "Lyon!"

  "Just a moment ago you wanted me to touch you. You were pressing up against me. Now I will see to your pleasure, Diana."

  She felt his fingers gently parting her, felt him ease down between her legs. When she felt his breath against her, she froze, her eyes wide on his bent head.

  "What are you doing?"

  He kissed the damp curls. "I'm learning you," he said, and lowered his head again. He really didn't believe he could bring her to a woman's pleasure, not this time, but at least he could begin to accustom her to him, accustom her to her own body and its exquisite responses.

  Diana couldn't believe what he was doing. It was too much. Surely he couldn'tShe suddenly saw him doing this to other women, to those little amours of his, and she felt such a violent wave of jealousy and rage that she jerked away from him, scrambling back out of reach.

  Lyon was stunned for a moment, his voice bewildered. "Did I hurt you?"

  "No, but you can't do that to me. It cannotWell, it cannot be right or proper."

  He wanted to laugh at her outrage, but didn't, of course. He kept his voice low and soothing, yet stern. "You belong to me, Diana. I can and will do to you what I know will please you."

  "That doesn't please me. It's awful and embarrassing and you do it to everyone!"

  Her accusation hurled itself at his head, waded through his confusion, and finally penetrated. "Ah," he said
, his voice filled with deep pleasure, "you're jealous."

  "I will not let you paw me like you have done to all your other little amours."

  "My mouth is more intimate than my coming inside you?"

  "Yes! You talk with your mouth."

  "That is certainly a fact I can't refute. You are being silly." He heard her jerky breathing and sighed. "Let's get some sleep. Come here now. I swear to keep my mouth closed, both on words and on you."

  True to what he'd said, he didn't speak again. He stretched out on his palm fronds and closed his eyes. He needed time. Perhaps tomorrow he could forgo his breechcloth and fold away her chemise. He found himself praying that Rafael would take his time returning.

  Diana eyed him with annoyance and with chagrin, but she didn't move.

  "Very well, you're making me go back on my word. You could at least thank me, Diana. I did give you my body."

  "I don't suppose you bled?"

  "No," he said, and laughed. "Only virgins and semivirgins bleed."

  "It isn't fair. I think a man should come to his marriage as chaste and virginal as his wife. I don't think I want to marry you, Lyon."

  "If he did, I doubt much would get done."

  "You men like to control things, you ---"

  "That's quite enough, my girl. Listen to me now because I mean every word. The die has been cast. You do belong to me. You will marry me. There is no going back." Suddenly, his voice lightened. "Who knows? I might have got you with child."

  "No!"

  "I shall try my best to ensure that you are pregnant before we are rescued."

  "I won't do it."

  "You, my dear, will have nothing to say about it. Neither will I, for that matter. I can but try and try, and you, dear girl, can but receive and receive."

  She heard the determination in his voice. She said, a touch of bitterness in her voice, "I am well and truly caught now, am I not? Just because I'm a woman and you are a man ---"

  "Very true." He added, amusement in his voice, "Just think, Diana, our child could both catch a fish and scale it."

  "In England?"

  He sighed. It was something to think about. "We will work something out," he said finally. "Now, come here. I want to hold you. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms. Just promise me you won't snore."