Lyon looked about the bedchamber with its high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling French doors, white walls, and Spartan furnishings, and shook his head. "This is your room?" At her complacent nod, he added, "Not a frill or a pink ruffle to be seen."
"The walls are stone, so it is cool inside." She walked to the French windows and opened them. "Here is the balcony, Lyon. I tend my own flowers, as you see."
Lyon followed her onto the wide balcony that stretched beyond the corner of the plantation house. Her balcony was a profusion of the most beautiful flowers he'd ever seen, and beyond was the Caribbean, with its brilliant shades of blue.
"I tend them myself," said Diana. "Dido swore to me that she would take good care of them while I was gone. She did."
Lyon breathed in the clean salt smell of the Caribbean. There were no cane fields, indeed, nothing in this direction, just the gentle slope of the hill down to the white beach. Indeed, it was only some two hundred feet to the sea, and the sound of the waves was muffled here.
"I like openness," she added slowly. She grinned up at him. "And I don't like pink ruffles."
He pictured her for a moment in the fog of London, huddled before a fireplace, and swallowed painfully. She was like a beautiful jewel here, in this lush setting. He wondered what the devil he was going to do.
"You saw the wide veranda in the front of the house. We eat most of our meals there. It's blessedly cool, always a breeze from the water. I do hope Deborah doesn't insist upon dining in the formal room. It can be ---" She broke off and yanked at his coat sleeve. "You are miles away, Lyon. What are you thinking?"
"About the bed," he said quickly, turning back into her bedchamber. "Let me see if it suits me."
Before Diana could react, he grabbed her about the thighs and tossed her over his shoulder. He eased her down onto her back on the wide bed. He came down over her, clasped her hands in one of his, and drew them over her head. "I've mi
ssed you," he said, and kissed her. She was tense and silent beneath him, but he was patient. He felt the moment she began to respond to him. Her lips parted and she arched upward.
He released her hands and balanced himself on his elbows over her. He looked down at her, smiling.
"I survived the parental interview. Am I not due some sort of a reward?"
She clasped his face between her hands and brought his head down. "Yes," she said, and kissed him. She felt him pressing against her belly, hard and probing. She stroked her hands down his back, feeling him shudder.
"Baby! Hot water for you and ---"
Dido came to a skittering halt in the doorway. Never had she thought to see her young mistress in such a position. On her back with a man on top of her. Oh, dear, oh, dear.
"Hello," Diana said, peeking around Lyon's shoulder, her face as red as Dido's was black. Lyon rolled off her and came to his feet beside the bed.
Dido shook her head. "Heah in the middle of de day with your man all over you! Shameless, lovie! A good figure of a man, though, and handsome as a dog. Well, you straighten yourself, missie, and take your bath now. Your new stepmammy wants her vittles in an hour. No fooling around wid him --- no, indeed. You wait to nighttime like a lady should."
Lyon was enjoying himself once his body accepted the fact that it was to be denied for the moment. Dido was the scrawniest scrap of humanity he'd ever seen. She was dressed in a plain gray gown, and her hair was scraped back from her face in a skinny bun. He'd met her briefly upon their arrival, watched her clasp Diana to her meager bosom, and tell her exactly everything that had occurred in her absence, all without taking a breath. Yet she was a slave. He shook his head and stepped forward. "Let me help you, Dido."
"Go along with you, master! You going to bathe wid my baby here? Not enough room, but you young 'unsWell I remember my Orial, quite a man dat one was --- yes, indeed."
"Yes, I think I will," Lyon said, taking the steaming buckets of water from her old veiny hands. "She needs a good scrubbing, you know. Come along, my dear."
Lyon was being outrageous and Dido seemed to enjoy this cavalier treatment. Diana scrambled off the bed and slapped down her gown.
"Come here, baby, and let me get you out of dat fancy dress."
"Oh, no, Dido. That's my responsibility."
Dido chuckled and wagged an arthritic finger at him. "Naughty, you are, young master! Randy as a mountain goat, you young fellers. You take care of my baby, you hear?"
"I hear," said Lyon.
The old woman took herself off, still chuckling. "Her highness is in a pelter," Dido added, pausing in the doorway. "You don't wanna rile herself moh. You hear?"
"Yes, I hear," Diana said, repeating Lyon.
When the door closed behind the old slave, Diana turned on her husband. "Lyon, you should be ashamed of yourself."
"She's a funny old duck. You were lucky to have her with you while you were growing up."