Calypso Magic (Magic Trilogy 2)

I know now that I would trust Diana with my life. "You're tired, sir."

"Indeed I am. Shall I get rid of Bemis for you?"

"No," Lyon said slowly. "I should like to watch him a bit. He and Charles Swanson seem to be on bad terms. Diana told me she came upon them quite by accident this afternoon in the throes of a vicious argument. Evidently Bemis struck Swanson."

Tell him about Patricia and Grainger. But he couldn't. At least not yet. "Surprising, I should say, given their years of supposed friendship."

"Well, there is one thing I didn't know about. Perhaps there are others. One of the government men on Tortola recommended Charles Swanson to me. My former bookkeeper was an incompetent, cruel imbecile. He was here for but a short time. His predecessor died of old age, competent to his last day. To date, Swanson seems like a gift from heaven. A fight between him and Bemis? I suppose I am not surprised, not really." Lucien Savarol rose from his chair. "I grant you the game, Lyon. Now I'd best find my bed before I fall asleep like a senile old man on the stairs."

Lyon thoughtfully followed his father-in-law up the stairs, watched him enter his bedchamber, then slowly walked to his own. He set the branch on a table beside the armoire. There was no movement from the bed. He stripped off his clothes and slipped between the sheets.

Diana was naked. Had she fallen asleep waiting for him? It was an exceedingly pleasant thought. The night was warm. He slowly pulled the sheet down until it

pooled at her feet. She was sprawled on her back, her legs slightly parted, one arm flung over her head. She looked incredibly beautiful to him. He felt the now-familiar surge of desire for her, deep, swirling feelings that seemed to grow stronger by the day. He'd assumed those feelings were rooted in honest, straightforward lust, but he was beginning to wonder. The feelings were growing more and more powerful.

She mumbled something in her sleep.

The candlelight sent a soft glow over her body.

He slowly eased to the foot of the bed. He grasped her ankles and gently eased her legs up, bending them at the knees. He then spread her legs wide and stared down at her. The candlelight was soft and gentle, but he knew if it were the harshest light, he would still find her exquisite. He eased himself between her widespread legs. Lightly, he touched his fingers to her, reveling in her soft woman's flesh, the delicate pink flush of her.

She moaned something unintelligible and moved slightly. He held her legs firm until she quieted. "Diana," he said very softly, "I have never seen a woman as beautiful as you." He explored her, his fingertips light as a butterfly's wings, and when he felt the dampness, the building heat, his need was so great he thought he would surely lose control. But he continued stroking her, caressing her, tangling his fingers in the soft dark-blond hair. When he eased his finger inside her, he knew she was ready for him, her body responding fully without her mind's awareness. He smiled painfully at his enthusiastic member. No, he wanted first to bring her to pleasure, to watch her eyes as she came awake racked with the sensation he would give her. He leaned down, his mouth coming over her. She was hot, her woman's flesh swelled.

Her hips moved upward in his hands.

He eased his arms beneath her thighs and lifted her.

She moaned and thrashed her head from side to side.

His mouth was deep and hot.

Wake up, Diana, wake up and feel what is happening to you.

She did, with an alarmed jerk. "Lyon!"

He raised his head and splayed his hand over her belly to hold her still. "Hush, love. Enjoy."

She did. When she felt his hand gently come over her mouth to muffle her cries, she felt freed and gave herself to her pleasure.

He came over her then, and she felt his fingers parting her and he was thrusting deeply and powerfully into her body. She welcomed him, her mind in chaos, her body equally out of control. And again she cried out, into his mouth, and in turn took his groans as he spilled himself deep inside her.

Lyon couldn't have moved had his life depended on it. His heart was racing fast as the wind. He buried his face in the pillow beside hers, trying to recover. Never before had he felt such depth of feeling, and it seemed to linger, pulling him deeper, chaining him to her, and oddly, he didn't mind. To his stunned surprise, he felt himself harden within her, and this time he moved slowly, savoring her heat, the tightness of her about him.

"Would you come with me again, Diana?"

She looked at his taut features, heard the deep, harsh words, and nodded, mute. "Lyon," she moaned softly when his fingers found her.

"It is all over for me," Lyon said some minutes later. It took all his strength to raise himself on his elbows over her. "And I don't care. I can't believe this, Diana."

"You were looking at me, weren't you?"

He gave her a very male, very cocky grin. "Lord, yes. You're malleable, sweetheart, when you're asleep. Of course, I took the hint when I found you charmingly naked in our bed. An invitation I couldn't resist."

"I was warm, that is all."

"Little liar. No, I take that back. You were more than warm, you nearly burned me."

"Lyon!" She squeezed his shoulder, felt his warm flesh, so smooth, and stroked her hands over his back.