Daniel looked down at the red stain that was spreading on his white shirt, covering his chest. He gave a loud growl, leaned down, grabbing Patricia by her hair, and began dragging her toward the cliff edge.
Grainger fired again. Lyon watched Daniel flinch and stagger. Grainger had got him in the middle of the back. And yet he was still standing, still walking.
Patricia was screaming.
"Daniel! Don't!" It was Deborah, running, her skirts held up in her hands. "No, Daniel! It's over. You must stop now. You must come to me. I am your mother, I will protect you. Please, Daniel."
Daniel turned at the edge of the cliff. Blood covered his chest, droplets falling to the ground.
"Mother?"
Grainger fired again. The shot slammed into Daniel's throat, and his head jerked back.
Still Daniel stood, bewildered, like a lost child, blood spurting from his throat, staring helplessly at Deborah. "Mother?" It was a whisper, a soft, bewildered whisper.
"Daniel!"
Patricia struggled and Lyon saw Daniel look down at her. Then he released her. She rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face against the ground.
"You damnable bastard!" The final shot hit Daniel in the belly. He weaved where he stood, then fell slowly to his knees. There was no sound from him when he rolled over the cliff to the rocks below.
"Daniel!"
Lyon's last sight of Daniel was a vision of red. Blood, so much blood, spurting everywhere, onto Patricia, soaking into the earth. He whispered, very quietly, "But where is Diana?"
He didn't follow Grainger and Lucien as they ran to the cliff and peered over the edge. He couldn't move.
"Lyon!"
It was her voice, haunting him. He'd failed her miserably. If only
"Lyon! I'm here!"
He turned slowly, unable to make his body react, unable to think. Diana was jumping off Salvation's back. She was a filthy mess, but it didn't matter. She was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.
She hurled herself against him, nearly toppling the both of them. "I saw it all," she sobbed against his neck. "Oh, God, he washelpless."
"He said he'd killed you." He flung the gun away from him and tightened his grip on her until she squeaked.
"No, he trapped me in our cave. I found another way out."
"I never would have found you," Lyon said, "never, until it was too late. God, Diana."
Neither of them was aware of the pandemonium that surrounded them.
Epilogue
No sweet without sweat.
—LATIN PROVERB
Ashton Hall, Yorkshire
September 1813
"You ridiculous man! Stop that, Lyon! You are cruel and I shall surely pay you back." Diana giggled and squirmed as he began tickling her.
"Hold still, wench." Lyon was nipping at her earlobe, his fingertips now lightly caressing her ribs. She bucked beneath him until he came over her, pinning her body beneath him.
He pressed his body against hers and felt her answering response.
"Lyon," she whispered, her arms coming about his back.
There were no more words between them.
"We must light a lamp. I can barely make out your self-satisfied, very smug female grin."
"Have you the strength, my lord?"
"No. I feel aged and used up." He pulled away from her and lit the lamp beside their bed. He sank down again, drawing her close.
"You're sweaty as a pig."
"You malign me, woman, after I make you yowl with pleasure?"
She smiled, pressing her lips against his shoulder.
"You are so sweet, Diana, but I imagine that you taste a bit salty yourself. I must investigate further." He ran his tongue along her jaw. "Sweaty as a piglette?"
"You are not gallant. Oh, dear, what is the time? Remember, Frances and Hawk are coming for dinner."
Lyon said something inelegant and Diana grinned. She raised herself on her elbow and peered down into his beloved face. "I love you, my lord."
Lyon grunted. "I think it is my house you love. You merely tolerate me because I am the owner."
"It is beautiful," she said. "I never saw an Elizabethan manor house before. It's also chilly. So I will keep you. You do provide warmth for me at night. And I must admit that Tanis is quite happy here."
"Ha! She is happy because she's been covered by Flying Davie. Just like a mare or a womansatisfy her in bed and she'll be happy anywhere."
"I think there must be some truth to that," she said. "I trust you will never lose your talents."
"Remember when I thrashed your bottom?"
She felt his hand stroke over her buttocks. "I will do anything to save myself," she said, and kissed him fully on his mouth.
There was a light knock on the bedchamber door.
Lyon groaned. "It's probably Kenworthy. We must bathe, I suppose, else Frances and Hawk will know exactly how we've spent our afternoon."
"And morning."
Lyon rose slowly and called toward the door. "Have hot water fetched, Kenworthy."
"It is, uh, here, my lord."
Lyon, because he was quicker, bathed first. He was dressing while Diana hummed to herself in the bathtub.
"Diana?"
"Hmmm?"
"Patricia will be arriving in three weeks or thereabouts."
That drew her up. "How do you know that?"
Lyon waved a letter at her. "I meant to tell you earlier, then you sidetracked me. In any case, she will be coming to us, in London, for the Little Season."
"How is Grainger?"
"According to your father, he is just fine. He and Patricia have gotten quite close. He very much regrets, of course, the fact that he sent her to his wife's sister, Mary Foster, but says that at the time he didn't see any other option. But at least he did send her money and provided her dowry. He is pleased she is coming to us. Your father also writes at great length of our project. Surprisingly enough, it is our project that has drawn Deborah out of her depression."
Daniel, she thought, and she felt the familiar pain. Poor Deborah.
Their project, she thought as she rubbed the lavender-scented soap over her shoulders. "Does Father really believe it will work?"
"Yes, I believe he does. He expected, you know, that I would simply free the slaves and toss them out on their own, to make their own way. He writes that the slave village is now operating quite efficiently again, much expanded now, of course. Deborah herself is directing the school and all the slaves, not just our Mendenhall people, are benefiting."
"And missionaries?"
"Not as yet. Your father is adamant on that score. Since none of the slaves will be freed until his death, he wants no trouble or unrest in the meanwhile. He writes that five years should prove ample time to prepare all our people to the practical side of being free men and women."
Lyon paused a moment, looking over at his wife. She was climbing out of the tub. He sucked in his breath. He wondered if the mere sight of her would always move him. Her beautiful hair was pinned up, with a few strands escaping to frame her face. She had no tan now. Her shoulders were as white as her breasts and her soft belly. He forced himself to look away or they wouldn't be downstairs to greet Frances and Hawk.
He said after a moment, "Diana, you are certain this is what you want?"
"As you said, Lyon, it is our project. Yes, I am quite certain."
"You will have no inheritance. Even Savarol Island will be bequeathed to the slaves."
"But I will be the executor. And Deborah also. Besides," she added on a grin, "you are provokingly wealthy. I don't think we will have to worry about our next meal." She shivered suddenly. "My father will live for many more years, Lyon. It bothers me to speak of life after he is gone."
"True." He grinned suddenly. "Your father also writes that Grainger has made him swear not to tell anyone of his plans, else he might find himself dispatched sooner than he would like by a disgruntled slave."
"I devoutly pray that Grainger was jes
ting!"
"Since your father has written it in an amusing way, I suppose he was jesting. Now, my dear, when do you plan to tell me your very interesting condition?"
Her eyes met his from across the bedchamber. "How did you know? I just come to realize it this morning."
"I am a man of the world."
"Ha! Does that mean a wretched rake?"
"Very well, a faithful hound of the world. You've had no monthly flow, my dear. A husband tends to notice things like that, you know. No interrupted bedding with my wife."
She flushed just a bit and wrapped her towel more firmly about her.
"And neither of us will worry. I will ensure that Lucia is well ensconced with us long before the child is due."
Diana walked over to her husband and sat down on his lap. She wrapped her arms about his neck. "I will keep you, my lord. Yes, I shall."
There was another knock on the door.
"Go away, Kenworthy! Tell the earl and countess to dine alone. We will join them for tea."
Diana thought she heard a giggle from the other side of the door. Lyon did too. He groaned. "Go away, Hawk! Frances, please, remove that fool!"
They heard Hawk say very clearly, "Ah, these newlyweds. Shall we spare their sensibilities, Frances?"
"Go away!"
Diana buried her face against Lyon's throat.
"Shall we dine, Frances? Alone? Ignored by our host and hostess?"
"I fancy we have no choice, Hawk," said Frances.
They heard Hawk say in a loud stage whisper, "It seems to me that they're striving mightily to produce a suitable offspring for one of our progeny. Thank the Lord we have both a boy and a girl, they won't have to worry."
"Or perhaps, husband, since our daughter is a dark bandit like you, we should have another. More choice, you know."
"Ah, I grow an old man in your service, Frances."
They heard Frances laugh, a low, very inviting laugh. Her voice was breathless when she finally called out, "We shall see you two at tea," she called through the door.
They heard her giggle again.
"How long until teatime?" Lyon asked as he began kissing his wife's bare shoulders.
The End
Calypso Magic Page 34