Calypso Magic

by Catherine Coulter

  She dragged herself to her bedchamber after lunch and fell into a deep sleep.

  "What is this, love?"

  She heard a man's voice, quietly talking to her. She felt a man's mouth kissing her.

  "Lyon?"

  He was frowning down at her. "Wake up, love. It's late. You've missed your dinner."

  She forced her eyes to open. "You're back," she said, touching her fingertips to his cheek.

  "Yes, of course I am. I missed you and hurried. You're right, I should have taken you with me, then at least I would have had you on hand to cure my bouts of distraction."

  "What about Mendenhall?" Talking was such an effort. Keeping her eyes focused was an equal effort.

  "My decision wasn't particularly difficult. I brought Bemis back with me, to arrange things. He doesn't yet know what I plan. It involves your father. Diana, how long have you felt so tired?"

  She heard the worry in his voice and smiled up at him. "Since dinner, last night. I couldn't keep my eyes open. You said I missed dinner. What time is it?"

  "Nearly ten-thirty."

  "But that's crazy!"

  She felt his hand on her forehead. She was cool to his touch. He sat perfectly silent for many moments. Then he felt fury flow through him. He was wondering if she had been drugged. Dear God, why?

  She felt one of his hands slide beneath her thighs. "What are you doing?"

  "I think you and I are going for a swim."

  "All right."

  "If I dunk you enough, I suspect it will clear your head."

  The cool evening water did indeed bring her about. They stayed in the water nearly an hour. Lyon practiced restraint. He'd missed her terribly and had felt guilty most of his trip because they'd parted in anger. Then he'd felt rage at what he'd seen at Mendenhall plantation.

  "I did leave you here because I wanted you to be safe. I'm a bloody fool."

  He cursed floridly.

  Diana, clearheaded now, wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed the pulse in his throat.

  "Don't tempt me, woman."

  "Why not?"

  "Because," he said and frowned over her head. A wave knocked them forward at that moment, and they went under in a welter of arms and legs.

  "Because why?" Diana asked when they'd emerged.

  "Because," he said thoughtfully, cupping her chin in his hand, "if I'm not mistaken, someone drugged you."

  She gaped up at him.

  "I left you here safe and someone drugged you."

  "That's insane!"

  "Yes," Lyon said slowly, "yes, it is."

  "But ---"

  "I want you to tell me exactly what you ate and drank at dinner last night. And today."

  She did. When she'd finished, Lyon took her hand and led her out of the water. Slowly, he toweled her off and handed her her dressing gown.

  "Very interesting," he said only. "That sweet-potato pone, no one else ate any of it?"

  She shook her head. "No, as I said, Dido had prepared it for my father, but he insisted I eat it. I did."

  They walked back toward the house.

  "Lyon?"

  "Yes, love?"

  "What is going on here?"

  "If I don't find out quickly," he said finally, "you and I are leaving."

  Lyon, the next morning over breakfast, took the bull by the proverbial horns.

  He attacked.

  24

  No gods assail us; we are mortals fighting with mortals.

  —VIRGIL

  Lyon gazed around the breakfast table, his expression bland. The last person to arrive was Patricia, yawning as innocently as a child.

  "I'm glad you're back, Lyon," Lucien said. "Your visit was quite a short one, my boy."

  "I saw what I needed to see," Lyon said, then added with a slight smile. "And I missed my wife."

  He paused a moment, staring at every face at the table. He saw Dido standing by the veranda door. He said clearly, "When I returned last evening, Diana was asleep. It appears that's all she had been doing since dinner evening before last. It is also quite clear to me that she had been drugged."

  "Good God! Surely ---" Lucien broke off, staring at his daughter. "Are you all right, my dear?"

  "Yes, Papa. Now I am."

  There were other exclamations. Lyon waited until everyone had made a response, then continued. "It was probably the sweet-potato pone that was drugged. Diana told me it was a dish prepared especially for you, sir. You gave the dish to Diana. She was the only one who ate it."

  "Impossible!"

  "Utterly ridiculous!"

  Lyon heard the women --- odd how they sounded nearly alike, almost as ifHe shook his head, but his eyes, for the moment, were on Dido. The old woman started, and he would have sworn that her black face paled. She took a step forward, then retreated again. He would speak to her after breakfast.

  Lyon continued thoughtfully, "Either it was a very long-lasting drug, or she was fed more of it at breakfast yesterday, or perhaps at lunch. I have little knowledge of drags used here in the West Indies. Perhaps Daniel can tell us."

  Daniel was staring at Diana, shaking his head slowly from side to side.

  "Daniel?"

  "Huh? Oh, yes, the drug. There are several that have long-lasting effects. Yes, several. Are you all right, Diana?"

  She looked at his concerned face, felt his slow, gentle voice wash over her. "Do not worry, Daniel. I survived."

  Deborah said sharply, "It is also possible that she had a fever. Indeed, it is more likely than drugs, for heaven's sake. Daniel will also tell you that there are many such illnesses that last a day or so."

  "That is true," said Daniel. "There is one in particular that makes one very lethargic for twenty-four hours or so."

  Lyon wanted desperately to grasp at that straw. "She had no fever last night when I returned."

  "There is no fever," Daniel said. "Just the extreme weariness and a ferocious headache."

  "I see," said Lucien. He couldn't help himself. His eyes went to his wife's, and he searched her face. There was something in her eyes, something she didn't want him to see, to know about. He frowned and sipped at his coffee.

  "You know," he said, looking from his son-in-law around the table, "I have a violent dislike of mysteries. Dido, I would like to speak to you after breakfast. In my study."

  "Yes, massa."

  "I should like to be present, sir," said Lyon.

  Lucien nodded, then said, "You returned very quickly, Lyon. Did Bemis show you everything?"

  "I showed him all he wished to see," said Edward Bemis. He sounded vaguely put out. "His lordship toured the plantation house, the slave compound, but scarcely looked at the fields. He spoke to the overseer and several of the slaves."

  "Your telling is accurate," said Lyon, a bit of irony in his voice. "So far as it goes," he added mildly.

  Lucien started to ask Lyon what conclusions he had drawn, but held his tongue. Obviously Lyon hadn't confided in Bemis. He would wait until they were alone. He prayed the boy hadn't come up with some sort of fantastic scheme to free the slaves that wouldn't have a prayer of working. It had been tried before. Failure, always failure.

  Lucien Savarol sat at his desk in his study. Lyon and Diana stood together by the French doors. Dido was wringing her arthritic hands, facing him across his desk.

  "The sweet-potato pone, Dido. Who prepared it? Who could have drugged the dish? A dish, I will add, that was prepared especially for me, and not my daughter."

  "Lila," Dido said. "But da missis and da young missis came in the kitchens. I didn't see them do nothing."

  "Bring me Lila, Dido."

  Lila, a massive black woman with a round face and a rather vacant expression, could tell them nothing. Both Deborah and Patricia had visited the kitchens. Was this uncommon? Lucien asked her. No, evidently it wasn't. Save perhaps for Patricia. The young missis rarely came into the kitchen.

  "Damn," Lucien said when the three of them were alone again. He chanced to
see his daughter give her husband a questioning look.

  "What is it, Diana?"

  "Something we should have told you sooner, Papa. Lyon ---"

  Lyon shrugged. "Yes, it is time all the cards are on the table. Sir, several nights ago, I awoke early. I was smoking a cheroot on the balcony. It was just before dawn. I saw a woman --- I am nearly certain it was Patricia --- coming from the direction of Grainger's house. He was with her, at least I am nearly certain it was Grainger. I didn't know at the time that Charles Swanson, another white man, was here on the island."

  Lucien Savarol toyed with a carved wooden letter opener until with a vicious gesture he broke it in two, flipping over the inkpot. Black ink spread on the papers on his desk. "That is interesting, to be sure. However, the question is why would Patricia want to drug me?" He cursed and rose abruptly. Diana knew the instant he realized the other possibility. Lucien turned slowly and in a very pensive voice said, "Could it have been Deborah?"

  "I don't think so, sir. I see your point, of course. Then she would have had a reason to drug your food."

  "But she is Papa's wife!"

  "I will add that Patricia is Daniel's wife," said Lucien. "We appear to be at something of an impasse."

  Now was not the time, Lyon decided, to tell his father-in-law of his plan. Besides, he wished to think it through more thoroughly.

  "Let's go visit the slave village," Lyon said to Diana.

  "That is a good idea," Lucien said. "Perhaps, just perhaps, someone will tell Diana something."

  That wasn't Lyon's reason for visiting the village, but he only nodded.

  Daniel was in the village, attending to a woman who had cut her arm. "Nothing much," Daniel said by way of greeting. "But a slash like this needs immediate attention." He patted the black woman's hand and continued with his bandaging.

  "Introduce me to the slaves, Diana."

  She cocked her head at him, then nodded. They spent the next couple of hours touring the village, Lyon asking questions. Granny Gates had died the previous night, and they paid their respects. They were both sweating freely under the fierce sun.

  "Let's go swimming," Lyon said, wiping the perspiration from his brow.

  Diana led him to the far end of the island. The beach sand was an odd pink color, the water the palest turquoise. Palm trees crowded onto the beach.

  "Did I ever tell you about palm trees, Lyon?"

  "No, and I am prepared to be fascinated."

  "Are you now, my lord? Well, they are so close to the water, you see, because that is the only way they can get to other places. A coconut falls and perhaps is swept out with the tide. I am not certain of the number of days the coconut can last in the sea, but it must be ample. When the coconut comes to shore on another island, it plants itself, I guess you could say. I am not really a naturalist, so I can't tell you the process. And that is why there are palm trees everywhere."

  "Just as I thought. Fascinating." He cupped her chin in his palm and kissed her. "Will you roast me a breadfruit for lunch? Just like on Calypso Island?"

  She smiled up at him. She was wearing only her chemise and it was clinging to her body, damp and revealing. She'd tied her hair up with a ribbon, and strands had escaped, framing her face. As for Lyon, he was naked.

  His Stomach growled at that moment.

  "I suppose I shall have to do something for you, my lord."

  "I can think of a number of things, but I am hungry."

  They picked mangoes and ate them as they sprawled under a palm tree. "Now, you very stubborn man, tell me about your trip."

  "You're no longer peeved with me?"

  "Yes, but there is nothing I can do about it." She added handsomely, "I also decided to forgive you because you are just a man. You have occasional lapses into manly foolishness. I shall be tolerant."

  "Why do I think that life as I have known it is over?"

  She poked him in the ribs. He closed his arms around her and pulled her close. "Tell me your adventures, Lyon."

  "It was a simple necessity, not an adventure. Road Town is a god-awful place except for the government buildings and wealthy planters' homes. But you already know that. Bemis hired two horses and we rode to Mendenhall. As you probably also know, it's in the hills and the road, if you can call it that, was washed out because of recent rains." Lyon paused a moment, his eyes clouding with obviously distasteful memories.

  "It was what I expected, I guess, but even so, I suppose I was praying it would be more like Savarol. The great house was inhabited by the overseer, a greasy individual by the name of Torrence. He has bad teeth, incidentally. He wasn't expecting me, of course. I'd made certain that Bemis didn't have the opportunity to give him warning. The house was a pigsty. We found him in bed with one of the slaves, a girl who could have been no more than thirteen or fourteen years old. As for the ninety or so slaves on the plantation, they were kept like animals. There was filth everywhere. I saw lash marks on several backs, including women. Torrence, of course, talked a mile a minute, assuring me that everything would be much better just as soon as I made decisions about the plantation, and on and on. I didn't smash my fist into his face, though the temptation was great. My impression was that Bemis and Torrence have been having a merry time until the new owner came to Tortola. That I surprised them wasn't to their liking. I have never seen Bemis so tightlipped. There is something else. I had this inescapable feeling that I would have had my toes cocked up for me had I not been married to you."

  "Lyon, no!"

  "Oh, yes, love. You see, with my death, you would inherit, so it would gain them nothing to do away with me. Bemis finally ran out of excuses on our return trip to Savarol last night. I held my tongue, acted the bored aristocrat to his satisfaction, I believe. I further think that Torrence believes I will allow things to continue as they are. As your father says, most overseers and attorneys are used to absentee owners who care only for a profit."

  "What are you going to do?"

  He grinned at her, leaning toward her to wipe mango juice off her chin with his fingertips. "Not just yet, Diana. I wish a couple more days to think it all through." He didn't add that his plan couldn't succeed without her father's involvement and agreement.

  "I am your wife!"

  "Lord, that's true." He gave her a lecherous smile and closed his hand over her thigh. "I believe it's time to treat you like a wife. I suppose you missed my man's body sorely?"

  "Ha!" But her eyes roved down his body to his manhood. It swelled beneath her interested look.

  She reached out her hand and touched him. He throbbed and swelled. Her eyes flew to his face. His look was one of amusement andintensity. "You feel very odd, Lyon. Hard but soft-feeling, like velvet, I think." Her fingers closed around him, and to her immense delight, he groaned.

  "Lyon," she said softly, her eyes on him and her moving fingers. "You know how you love me sometimes?"

  "No. How do I love you sometimes?"

  "YouWell, you know. Your mouth, youOh stop being such a dreadful tease!"

  "Ah, that is the way I wish to love you all the time now I know you won't turn red with embarrassment."

  She flushed slightly. "Well, would it give you the same pleasure were I to kiss you there?"

  "Diana," he said, his voice deep and fervent, "it would make me want to expire with pleasure."

  "Ah," she said, vastly pleased.

  He watched her lower her head, felt her soft lips on his belly, felt her hand push him onto his back. He lightly touched his hand to her head. When her lips lightly brushed his manhood, he thought he would explode. He sucked in his breath in a hiss.

  "I like the way you taste," she said, and he felt her warm breath caressing him. It was nearly too much. "Am I doing this all right, Lyon?"

  "Sweetheart, if you do what you are doing much more, both of us will regret it."

  She raised her head a moment and grinned at him. "I shall just have to see, won't I?"

  She was between his legs, her hair, now
loose from its ribbon, flowing over his belly and thighs.

  When he could bear it no longer, he tugged at her hair until she released him. "Come here, woman."

  She eased up over his body, took his face between her hands, and kissed him deeply. "Now," she said with satisfaction, "now you know what a man tastes like."

  "I much prefer you." He flipped her onto her back and she sprawled in the sand, her sweet laughter washing over him.

  Diana wondered vaguely many minutes later how the feelings could just keep getting stronger and wilder. Her heart was finally slowing from its mad gallop and she felt as sated and sleepy as an animal lying in the sun.

  "Lyon?" She ran her fingers through his thick hair.

  "Ummm?"

  He sounded as sleepy as she felt. "I just wanted to tell you something."

  "What?"

  "Your very manly bottom is going to get sun-roasted if you don't move."

  He raised himself on his elbows over her.

  "I suppose there is now sand everywhereand in everything."

  She pushed at his chest, laughing. They swam out to the reef and back again. She didn't want to return to the house. She didn't want to lose the magic and return to reality.

  Reality at the moment was too frightening.

  Lyon guessed the direction of her thinking. He patted her cheek. "It will be all right. Everything will be resolved soon."

  He questioned her about Grainger on their ride back to the house.

  "As I told you once, he has been here on Savarol for thirteen years. I was very young when he arrived. He has never been very talkative. My father told me once that he'd lost his wife and had come from Jamaica here to escape, only he found peace here and stayed. He has always been kind to me, a bit gruff, but kind. I remember one Christmas he made me a doll from sugarcane." Diana paused, smiling at the memory. "I ate her. I would dislike it intensely, Lyon, were he responsible for all that is happening here."

  Lyon had seen Grainger in quite another light, through a veil of distrust for a man whose job it was to keep human beings in line. And the man had seduced Patricia. Not very honorable.

  He sighed. Or had Patricia, that little coquette, seduced him? He said, his voice pensive, "I should dislike seeing Daniel hurt."