Calypso Magic (Magic Trilogy 2)

"It is none of your affair, miss! I will speak to your father. The little slut will be off Savarol Island by the end of the week."

"Why?"

Deborah shot Lyon a sideways look. "She is unmanageable," she said only. She stretched out her hand and Lyon placed the whip on her palm. "I didn't touch her with this, although God knows she deserves it."

"Moira," Diana said to the still-sobbing girl, "go to the kitchen and refresh yourself. And stop that infernal noise!"

"Yes, missis."

Diana, purely by chance, saw Moira's face. She saw her shoot a venomous look at Deborah. That look was alsosmug, triumphant. Because she and Lyon had protected her? Somehow Diana didn't think so. A mystery, then. One day of boredom, she thought again. Just one day without the eddies and tensions.

"We will see you at dinner, Deborah," Diana said. "Lyon, you wished to read Lucia's letter, did you not?"

"What? Oh, yes, certainly, my dear."

Once Lyon had closed their bedchamber door behind him, he said abruptly, "All right, what was that all about?"

"There is something going on that I don't understand. Deborah hates Moira, and not because she's slothful or incompetent. And Moira looked smug, pleased with herself, Lyon, I am certain of it. There is something strange happening here." She paused, sighing.

"Moira is a very pretty girl," Lyon said.

"Well, yes, that's true. What of it?"

"Perhaps nothing, perhaps everything. Now, my dear wife, where were we?"

She gave him a look that made his body tighten, but didn't answer him, not then anyway.

He didn't speak until they were naked on their bed, Lyon over her.

"Diana, look at me. I want to see your expression when I come inside you."

Her mouth opened on a cry when he drove into her, fully, deeply.

"Diana, don't move!" His voice was ragged, his large body quivering. "Merciful heavens, you make me delirious, woman."

It seemed to become more powerful, more intense each time, Diana was thinking vaguely. When he pulled out of her, she clutched at his shoulders, but he only shook his head. When his mouth found her, caressed her, his tongue stroking her, she knew that if he were to stop, she would shatter into a thousand fragments. "Lyon!"

"Yes, sweetheart. Come along, now. Let go for me."

She did, and he reveled in it. When he thrust into her again, the feelings she thought exhausted revived, and she stared at him, amazed at herself. He grinned, though it looked somewhat painful.

She thought the words were in her mind, but when she opened her eyes, so difficult at the moment because she felt as if she never wanted to move anything again, she saw him looking thoughtfully down at her.

He kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose, then her cheek and ear. "You taste like sweat, sex, and Diana."

"Faithful as a hound, Lyon?"

His grin became a laugh. "If you keep the hearth so very warm and inviting, yes, this hound will never budge an inch."

"And if I weren't sowell, so"

"Responsive? Perhaps eager is the appropriate word for a well-bred miss and a lady. And if you weren't sowell, I would just have to teach you, slowly and with great patience. But then again, you have always desired my mouth, have you not?"

She buffeted him on his shoulder. "You're sweaty."

"So are you. I wish your tub were large enough for the both of us. Tell you what, Diana, let's go swimming tonight. All right?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes gleaming, "all right." And with no Patricia about, she added silently.