"I keep forgetting how big you are, Daniel," Diana said, grinning at him. "You make the veranda shrink."
"The curse of my life," he said. "Mother has always wondered how I could become such an oak. She believes me a changeling." He said easily to Lucien, "Thomas had a nasty cut from a machete, sir. Fortunately he didn't wait to tell me. Hopefully there will be no infection."
"Thank you, Daniel. Ah, braised rabbit in molasses. It is one of Diana's favorites, Lyon."
"Just so long as it's not mongoose in molasses," Lyon said. "I awoke on our deserted island to see one of the fellows staring me in the eye. It was most disconcerting, particularly when Diana just laughed at me."
Conversation at the table was pleasant until Patricia asked, "Tell me about your wedding in London. Was it a grand affair? Was the Prince Regent present?"
Diana's fingers tightened about her fork and she shot an agonized look toward her husband.
Lyon said easily, "Actually, we weren't married in London. We decided it would be more romantic to be married at sea. Captain Carstairs did the honors."
"Well!" This from Deborah. "Are you certain the man has the authority?"
"If he didn't, then Diana and I are living in sin," Lyon said.
"Just when did he perform this ceremony?"
"The children are married, Deborah," Lucien said, finality in his voice. "That is quite enough."
"But why didn't you marry in London?"
"Obviously because they didn't wish to," Daniel said in a repressive voice to his wife.
Lyon added, looking briefly toward his very silent wife, "Diana wanted to come home. There wasn't time to plan a formal wedding."
Deborah obviously wasn't satisfied, but she held her tongue.
"Delicious," Lyonel said. "What is this, Diana?"
"Yams and molasses."
"If it sits long enough on my plate will the molasses become rum?"
"I explained rum making to you."
"True enough," Lyon said. "I'd forgotten about the worms." No response, not even a slight smile. She'd lost her sense of humor. He'd make things right again, after luncheon.
"Diana, I want to talk to you."
She was seated on her balcony, staring out to sea, her body still, her expression thoughtful.
"Diana?"
"Yes? What do you want, Lyon?"
"I want you."
"I see. And if I say no, will it matter to you?"
"I should like to speak to you about that."
"Short of jumping over the railing, there is little I can do to stop you."
He sighed and moved to stand beside her, his elbows on the railings. He inhaled the sweet scented air. Without turning, he said, "I suppose I can make excuses --- they'll sound bloody weak to your ears, of course --- but I would like to tell you the truth." He paused, still not turning to face her.
"I suppose I could fling you over the balcony."