Calypso Magic (Magic Trilogy 2)

"Yes, I know. You've told me."

She turned to face him. "Forgive me for running on so. What is it you wanted, Lyon?"

He drew in a deep breath. "You are quite tanned. You even have a smattering of freckles across your nose. I want you to marry me. Today, perhaps tomorrow, at least marry me before we arrive at St. Thomas."

"You are quite tanned also, but there are no freckles. No, I won't. Not today, n

or tomorrow, not before St. Thomas."

"And that's that?"

She saw that he was quite serious, indeed, he was holding himself up very straight. He looked lovely, she thought vaguely, the stiff ocean breeze tousling his thick chestnut hair. His eyes looked even bluer with his face so tanned. She wanted to touch him, and she did, placing her hand lightly on his shirtsleeve. "Nothing has changed, surely you understand that. My father will protect me. There is no reason for you to, well, to sacrifice yourself through what you yourself have called my blundering."

He looked past her a moment, thinking furiously. Damned little twit! "I don't like your hair braided," he said.

"Since I haven't been able to wash my hair since the storm, it is the only thing to do. I am sorry you find me so repulsive."

He gave her a look of acute dislike. "The good Lord knows you are anything but repulsive. What you are, my girl, is a stubborn witch, and at the moment I am resisting a particularly powerful urge to throttle you."

"There are a number of witnesses, aren't there?"

"If I were to tell them of your singularly stupid stance, I imagine that they would applaud me." He dashed his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. "Look, Diana, there is no going back, surely you must realize that. You spoke of your blunder. Well, it's done and I've accepted the consequences. You must also."

"I don't wish to discuss it further, Lyon. Now, let me tell you that Harmon is making a special dish for us this evening. Actually, it's for you, to give you an idea of the foods we eat at home."

He raised a brow at that, accepting her sidestepping for the moment at least.

"'Tis a surprise. Are we dining with Rafael and Blick?"

"Probably," he said. "With a special dinner, I have no doubt that we will."

He watched her walk away, her step firm, in perfect harmony with the swaying deck. The breeze ruffled her skirt, and he swallowed, seeing the clear outline of her legs and hips.

"Very well, Diana. It will just have to be seduction," he said to no one in particular, "since you refuse to consider reason."

The evening began uneventfully, though Diana noticed that Lyon was quiet, which was most unlike him. She wondered briefly if he were still upset with her for refusing to marry him. No, she thought, he must be relieved, not upset. Harmon served them tripe and bean surprise and for several minutes, Lyon just stared at the pile of yams, coco, dumplings and carrots.

"This is a West Indian dish?"

Rafael laughed. "One of their favorites. Been around for the longest time, isn't that right, Diana?"

"Eat up, Lyon. Soak up the sauce with your dumplings. It is civilized, you know."

Lyon saw to it that Diana drank several glasses of rich red wine. He saw Rafael eyeing him curiously, and merely smiled.

It was close to ten o'clock when he and Diana repaired to their cabin. As was her wont, she prepared what he called her nest on the floor. She hadn't shared the bunk with him since the night of the storm.

"Must you?" he said irritably.

She looked up at him. "Must I what?"

"Continue sleeping on that damned floor."

"Yes, certainly," she said. "You must remember that you were most uncomfortable that one time."

"Uncomfortable? That particular word doesn't come close to what I felt."

"Well, there you are. I refuse, Lyon, to be your little amour on this voyage."