Calypso Magic

by Catherine Coulter

  She didn't respond to his provocation. "This is all most odd," she said, more to herself than to him. She snuggled beside him and rested her cheek on his shoulder. She felt him lifting her hair and spreading it over his chest. "Very nice," he said. "Finally I have my blanket."

  Diana laid her hand very lightly on his chest. She felt his heartbeat increase. He tried to hold himself in check.

  "This is difficult," he said, removing her hand.

  I am no longer innocent, she thought, knowing that if she looked down his body she would see his response.

  "What do you want me to do?"

  He laughed at that, a painful sound. "You are too sore to let me do what will cure me."

  She ducked her head under his chin.

  "Tell me a story to distract me."

  And to distract herself, she thought, searching her mind. She told him about the Arawak Indians, long ago very peaceful inhabitants of the Virgin Islands who were destroyed, eaten, in fact, by the Carib Indians. "The Caribs ate everyone they could get into their pepper pots --- Spanish, English, and French explorers, soldiers and settlers. They're almost all gone now."

  "With our luck," Lyon said in a sleepy voice, "the only two of them left are here, on our island."

  "You can protect us. You have a marvelous spear."

  He groaned at that.

  Lyon awoke to the sweet sound of Diana's voice. He smiled, coming up on his elbows. She was not ten feet away, on her knees in front of a small fire, making something for their breakfast. She was wearing her chemise. He came up behind her silently, leaned down, and wrapped his arms around her. He lifted her hair and kissed her ear.

  She stiffened, then relaxed, leaning back against his belly.

  "You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to disturb you."

  His hands came around to cup her breasts.

  "I am more disturbed now than any man has a right to be."

  His gentle caressing motion made her body flare. He came down on his knees and slowly turned her to face him. "Good morning," he said, and kissed her.

  His hands tangled in her hair, rubbing her back, moving ever downward until he was molding her hips. He was rigid and pulsing against her belly.

  "Do you know what I want to do?"

  "Yes, you are being very obvious, Lyon."

  She felt him pulling up her chemise, then his bare hands were on her thighs, moving slowly upward to caress her hips. She felt his fingers ease between her thighs. "You, sweetheart, are also obvious, if a man knows where to feel."

  She could feel his finger easing into her easily, for she was moist and eager. She heard a soft moan, felt that moan deep in her throat as Lyon kissed her.

  "I don't have enough hands," he said, his voice fierce. He closed his eyes a moment at the heat of her. "Your breasts," he began, then released her an instant. He pulled her chemise over her head and tossed it on the sand. He held her away from his and looked at her. Her breasts were heaving, her nipples taut. He drew a deep breath, jumped to his feet, and grasped her under her arms.

  "Come along. It's time you found that lovemaking is even more enjoyable than making cassava bread." He lifted her, and without thought, she wrapped her legs about his flanks. He kissed her mouth, her chin, pressed her head back to get to her throat and breasts. Her hair hung loose down her back, reaching nearly to the sandy beach.

  "You are so beautiful," he said, his hot breath on her breast. "And your taste, Diana"

  She was gasping, feeling so urgent that she didn't know what to do. Her fingers kneaded his arms frantically. "Oh, dear, Lyon," she whispered.

  The loud boom of a cannon came like a crack of thunder. Her legs tightened about him and she tried to focus her eyes on his face. She heard him curse, floridly.

  He eased her down his body. "I don't believe it," Lyon said, gulping in huge drafts of air, his hands still stroking up and down her back, tangling in her hair.

  There was another loud crack.

  "A cannon," she said.

  "Yes, Rafael returning for us, damn his eyes!"

  "The signal fire," she managed.

  Lyon released her, bent down, and retrieved her chemise. "Put it on."

  They got the signal fire going, Lyon using his breechcloth to fan it into smoke swirls.

  The Seawitch came into view.

  They watched in silence as a boat was lowered over the side of the ship.

  "Time to dress," Lyon said.

  Diana nodded, mute. She was looking at his breechcloth beside the fire. It was stained with blood, her blood. She quickly tossed it into the fire, then turned to fetch her gown.

  Rafael lowered his spyglass, a wicked smile on his lips. His timing was horrible, he thought, and wondered if Lyon would burn his ears. He frowned at his body's reaction to seeing them clasped together, Diana's long, slender legs wrapped around Lyon, her glorious hair streaming down her arched back.

  They looked none the worse for wear from their ordeal. Ordeal, ha! It looked as if Lyon had succeeded very well.

  "Can you see anything, Capt'n? Are they here on Calypso Island?"

  "Yes," said Rafael, turning to Rollo. "They're here on Calypso. Our castaways look quite healthy. Lower the boat, Rollo, and let's get them aboard." When Rollo turned away to obey his command, he raised his spyglass again. He saw Diana toss something in a fire, saw her turn and follow a naked Lyon to their shelter.

  "It feels most odd to be wearing all these clothes again," Diana said as she finished fastening the buttons on her gown. "And shoes! How dreadfully uncomfortable!"

  They were alone in their cabin. Lyon grunted in agreement as he tugged on his boots.

  "Fancy that," Diana continued. "We were on Calypso Island, just a mile from Reefer's Island. There are a few inhabitants there, descendants of pirates, so I've been told."

  "As ferocious as the Carib Indians?"

  "Ah, no. They've calmed down remarkably, indeed ---" There was a knock on the cabin door.

  "Dinner in the captain's cabin," Neddie said through the door.

  "We'll be right along," Lyonel said. He smiled at Diana. "You've missed a couple of buttons. Hold still." He wanted to pull the wretched gown off her and throw her on the bunk, but Rafael was waiting. "Later," he said.

  "Later what?"

  "You'll see, love."

  She flushed and ducked her head. He obligingly kissed the nape of her neck.

  "No cassava bread, I see," said Lyon when they were seated at Rafael's table.

  "Diana took good care of you," Rafael said.

  "She did indeed," said Lyon, his voice bland. He jumped when she kicked his shin beneath the table.

  "I don't think I'll need to examine either of you," said Blick. "I have to admit that I was a bit worried when the two of you went overboard."

  "I helped Lyon to shore," said Diana.

  "She helped me more than you can imagine. Rafael, tell us about the attack. We couldn't see much in the storm."

  Rafael thoughtfully chewed on a piece of bread. "The English are much better sailors than the French. We got one of them broadside, then slipped past the other two before they could figure out what had happened. Also, I gave dutiful thanks to heaven for that blessed storm."

  Diana said, "I was very surprised. There haven't been many French war ships in the Caribbean in years, or so I thought."

  "Perhaps they thought I was a special prize," Rafael said. "More wine, my dear?"

  "Why?" Diana asked, tenacious. "What is in the hold of this ship?"

  "Just furnishings, cloth and housewares for local planters. Incidentally, we'll reach Road Town tomorrow. Your father will be there to greet you, Diana. And you, Lyon."

  "I thought you were bound for St. Thomas?"

  "I was and I went. I sent a message to your father."

  Diana sent an agonized look to Lyon.

  He didn't answer that look until they were in their cabin an hour later. "We can have Rafael marry us now," he said without preamble, "or we can wait.
Which do you prefer?"

  Diana paced the cabin. "I don't know. I can't be pregnant. It was only one time. You don't have to worry that ---"

  "You silly female! We're not getting married just because you could or could not be with child. We're getting married because we have no other choice. Now, enough. Again, which do you prefer?"

  "I want to go home."

  Lyon sighed. "Why are you so against marriage to me?"

  She said without hesitation, "Because you don't love me. Because as soon as you settle your inheritance, you'll want to return to England. I hate England. It's cold and foggy and awful and ---"

  "So, you see yourself living with your father, stepmother, and stepbrother until you're old and creaky? An unmarried daughter isn't a pleasant thing to be, so I've heard. Is that what you want?"

  How many times must he have this same ridiculous conversation, counter her arguments?

  "What I want is some time. I don't want to be forced into anything, Lyon. Can't you understand that?"

  He clasped her arms none too gently and shook her. "Now you will listen to me, Diana Savarol. I have had quite enough of your perseverating. For heaven's sake, it's not as if I were a troll or a fortune-hunter or a libertine. I am quite good husband material. And I am a good lover, an excellent lover. Now that we've gotten rid of your virginity, I will prove it to you."

  He bent his head down and kissed her, roughly and quite thoroughly. His male attack surprised him, for it wasn't his style. But she made him so furiousHe eased, gently running his tongue over her lower lip. "You are beautiful and sweet and I want you, Diana. I will be a good husband, you will see."

  "All right," she said, and wrapped her arms about his waist.

  He didn't ask her what she meant. It didn't seem important, not now. "I liked it better when I didn't have to spend an hour getting both of us out of our clothes." He was breathing hard, and he was surprised at the nearly painful desire she evoked in him. "Diana," he said, and his fingers were on the buttons of her gown, working feverishly. She helped him, or tried to.

  "Ah," he said. She was standing naked in front of him and he couldn't get enough of her. He slowly reached out his hands and lifted her breasts. She quivered and brought her own hands up to cover herself. "Oh, no," he said, and smiled down at her. "No, don't hide yourself." He caressed her gently, marveling at how exquisite she looked. He saw that she'd closed her eyes. "Come closer. I want you to feel me against you."

  "I don't know, Lyon, it's ---"

  "It's what, sweetheart?" His warm breath filled her mouth and she knew she was being silly. And she did desire him. She felt the warm, very delightful ache low in her belly and wondered"Lyon? I feel very strange." His hand left her breast and glided over her stomach, downward until his fingers were probing through the curls between her thighs.

  "Here?"

  She sucked in her breath. "Yes."

  "Good."

  He lifted her in his arms and carried her to their narrow bunk. He laid her on her back and stood over her a moment, looking at her. "Thank God for light," he said.

  Diana found that her gaze went immediately to his belly and lower. "Oh, dear," she said. His manhood was thrust forward and it looked smooth and hard and alive.

  She reached out her hand and lightly touched her fingertips to him. He flinched and she jerked her hand back.

  Lyon very much wanted her to touch him, but he sincerely doubted that he could control himself if she did. And tonight was very important. If he could give her a woman's pleasure, he knew she would no longer fight him about their inevitable marriage. She wouldn't be able to reconcile sex between them without the sanctity of marriage. If he had to use sex to control her, then he would do so. So be it, he thought. He eased down on his side beside her. "Hello," he said, not touching her with his hands.

  She smiled up at him shyly.

  "I love the tanned parts of you. They frame the white parts most enticingly."

  "The same is true of you, Lyon."

  "You finally looked at me, did you? I'm not such a terrible beast, am I? I am made for you, you know. My own theory is that God created woman first, then decided that she needed a mate to laugh with her, to fetch for her, to fill her with his own body."

  "I trust you won't say that to any of the Methodists you will meet." She felt his manhood pressing against her thigh, and her leg jerked a bit, rubbing against him.

  She raised her hand to his cheek. "You are a beautiful man, Lyon. I think I want you to kiss me now."

  He did. She tasted of the sweet wine they'd drunk at dinner and of herself. Of Diana. Life stretched before him with pleasant horizons. "You are very special to me and I want to make you happy."

  There were no more words between them. He went slowly until Diana, wanting more, lurched up against him.

  Still he held back. He wanted her to have everything, to learn tonight the pleasure he would give her the rest of his life. When he gently eased his finger inside her, he wanted to howl with his own pleasure at her warmth, her enthusiasm, her own need of him. He began to caress her softly swelled woman's flesh and her desire flowed over him.

  "That's it," he said into her mouth. "Move against my fingers. What do you feel, Diana?"

  "I feel urgent," she gasped. "It just keeps getting stronger."

  He felt her tensing, knew that she was hovering on the edge, and lifted his fingers.

  Her eyes flew open and her disappointment made him smile. "Hush," he said. "You will like this much better." He eased down her body, parting her legs to come between them. He smiled at her as he lifted her hips. When his mouth closed over her, she stiffened for a brief instant, then cried out.

  He held her firmly, feeling the spasm overwhelm her. He knew it was the first time, her first time, and he felt so proud, so triumphant that he forgot his own need. She was filled with passion. All for him. When he felt her climax ease, he came into her, swiftly, fully, driving deep.

  Her arms went about his back, and he kissed her, knowing she tasted herself on his mouth. "So sweet, Diana, so sweet."

  And he was gone, his body exploding, his mind reeling, and she took his groans into her mouth.

  Diana held tight, her mind emptied just as her body was filled with him. She'd never imagined, never guessedShe sighed, kissing his chin, his throat.

  "I'll marry you," she said between hisses.

  "I thought you just might," Lyon said. He eased off her, bringing her with him onto her side. She fell asleep, her cheek pressed against his chest, her legs tangled with his.

  Dim morning light came through the porthole when Diana, her voice accusing, said, "Just what did you mean by that, Lyon?"

  He moaned in his sleep, his hand stroking down her side to her hip.

  "Lyon!"

  He cocked an eye open to see Diana leaning over him, her eyes narrowed, her beautiful hair framing her face and flowing over his chest. "Kiss me," he said.

  "I want to know what you meant," she said, but she kissed him.

  "Meant by what?" His hand was stroking her buttocks.

  "That you thought I would marry you."

  His mind finally wound itself back to the previous night and he remembered his self-satisfying words. He gave her a triumphant masculine grin. His fingers eased between her thighs to touch her. "I meant, dear one, that once I gave you pleasure, you would be mine. Forever. Helpless in my net, like one of your groupers."

  Diana wanted to tell him that he was a halfwitted gargoyle of questionable antecedents, but his fingers were driving her wild. And he knew it. She tried for outrage, but couldn't find a drop.

  "Lyon," she said on a soft wail.

  "I know, Diana. I know."

  Captain Rafael Carstairs of the Seawitch married Lyonel Ashton, Earl of Saint Leven, to Diana Savarol, spinster, that morning with every man on board witnessing the event.

  "You may kiss your bride," Rafael said at last, and Lyon, grinning fatuously, took Diana into his arms. He heard the shouts of the men as his
lips touched hers.

  "Finally caught," he said against her mouth.

  "Like a grouper."

  19

  Those who go overseas find a change of climate, not a change of soul.

  —HORACE

  Lyon's first view of Road Town left him silent. He supposed he had fantasized some sort of tropical paradise with natives wandering about looking happy, a profusion of flowers and lush foliage, larking colorful birds everywhere, and gleaming white buildings.

  Reality wasn't quite so kind. Tortola itself was a long, mountainous island --- quite beautiful, really --- but its capital was as grim a sight as he'd ever seen. Scores of men, both black and white, swarmed over the docks; piled wooden crates were everywhere, both outgoing goods and incoming, he supposed. It was dreadfully hot, with no beautiful trees or flowers or anything else to shade. From the Seawitch he could smell the odors of the outdoor market, fish, primarily, rotting under that hot sun. Haphazard wooden buildings crowded behind the docks. It was appalling. He swallowed, looking down at Diana, who was now waving wildly toward shore.

  "There's my father," she cried, leaning over the railing. "See, Lyon, the tall man, the one with the twinkle in his eye ---"

  Lyon laughed. "Careful, else you'll be swimming to shore."

  "No, really, he's the most handsome man in the West Indies. You will like him, I swear. Oh, dear, those must be my new relatives with him," she continued, shading her eyes and straining. "It's two ladies, Lyon. I thought I had a new stepbrother."

  "One looks quite young," Lyon said. "I think your father's spotted us, my dear. There's no longer a twinkle in his eyes. Am I in danger of fatherly wrath?"

  "Since we're married, I suppose he will put up with you with good grace." She punched his arm, grinning.

  Patricia Driscoll stood between her father-in-law, Lucien Savarol, and her mother-in-law, Deborah Savarol, watching the Seawitch navigate through the deep calm water of the harbor.