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.