Calypso Magic (Magic Trilogy 2)

"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.

Patricia's muslin gown was cool, but not cool enough standing in the high heat of the day. She wished she could wander into the shade, but she knew that Papa Lucien wanted them all to stand here showing enthusiasm for his daughter and her husband. She would have preferred that her new sister-in-law remain in England, so that she would have been able to go to London. Daniel, her husband of three months, wanted desperately to go to England, and she did as well, although her motives were vastly different from her young husband's. He would change, she was determined that he should, and when they finally managed to go, it would be in style. She dreamed of the parties, the very fine and fancy people she would meet who would believe her charming. Lucien Savarol was one of the richest planters in the West Indies. If he could be brought around, she would have her wish.

"It is all very odd," said Deborah Driscoll Savarol to her new husband. "Cast overboard during a storm and a battle. Captain Carstairs seemed very certain they were all right. Yes, most odd indeed."

"Yes, you've said that," said Lucien mildly, but his eyes were narrowed with worry. God, the past week had been hell, the not knowing if Diana were still alive. And Carstairs telling him that she was married. His Diana married! That in itself was such a surprise that he was speechless for many minutes. And to an English earl, no less.

Suddenly, the Seawitch drew close so Lucien could see his daughter waving at him from the deck. Her beautiful hair was flying wildly around her face and streaming down her back. She looked as excited as he felt. And there was a man standing next to her. A tall man, slender, but he could not make out the man's features. Her husband, he thought, feeling an unaccountable tightening in his gut.

"How untidy she appears," said Deborah, frowning slightly into the bright sunlight. "All that hair flying about."

"She looks beautiful," said Lucien. "Just like her mo---" He broke off. Deborah didn't like to be reminded of his first wife, the exquisite Lily. Her portrait was now in his study, banished from the drawing room.

The docking seemed to take forever. Lyon smiled indulgently at Diana, who was flittering about and chattering nervously. "That must be his new wife," she said. "But who is that girl? I do wish I could see their faces --- their bonnets are so wide! I hope they are nice. What if they don't like me? Who is that girl, Lyon? Where is my new stepbrother?"

"Patience, my dear."

Some ten minutes later, Diana surged down the gangplank and threw herself into her father's arms. "I'm home, Papa, I'm home."

Lucien didn't want to release her. He'd been so very afraid for her. He drew back and gently touched his fingertips to her face. "This man staring at us is your husband, my dear?"

Diana started a moment, then said gaily, "Yes. Lyon, come and meet your new father-in-law."

Introductions were made all around. Deborah offered a powdered cheek to her new daughter, which Diana dutifully pecked.

"And this is Patricia Driscoll, my new daughter-in-law," said Deborah. "Unfortunately Daniel couldn't come with us. Lucien had some very important work for him to do on Savarol."

"Ah, well, such a pity," Diana said. They were saved by Rafael Carstairs.

"They are just as I told you, sir," he said to Lucien Savarol. "They're fit and tanned and healthy. I knew Diana must know enough about living on an island so they wouldn't starve." He made brief greetings to Mrs. Savarol and Mrs. Driscoll.

"Yes," said Patricia to Diana, "you poor thing, you're dreadfully tanned. It will take weeks to make that awful brown fade. You've even got freckles."

Diana blinked. She looked at Patricia's very white face, not a freckle to be seen. "I doubt it," she said only. Was she her stepsister-in-law? It was most confusing.