He turned at that, leaning back, his elbows balanced on the railing. He grinned at her. "You could try. I believe I should enjoy your efforts."
"Talk, my lord."
"Very well. I was awake very early this morning, before dawn, in fact. I was standing out here, smoking a cheroot. I saw Patricia coming from Grainger's house and he was with her. She was wearing a long cloak and I couldn't see her clearly, but I could tell she was white and young. All I could think about was that she was betraying her husband, she was betraying Daniel, a fine man, and they'd been married such a short time. She became Charlotte to me. I was enraged. I went crazy. I took out that rage on you. I apologize for it. I mean that, Diana. I hope you will forgive me for hurting you."
She sat still as a stone, watching him. His words played over and over in her mind. It was odd, but she'd imagined that something had triggered his memories of Charlotte and driven him to hurt her, a woman, the betrayer.
"It is difficult to accept."
"Which part?"
"That Patricia would betray Daniel with Grainger. He's not a young man, Lyon. Are you certain what you saw?"
"Completely. Actually, I didn't see the man clearly, simply that he was white. I do not believe that Charles Swanson is a seducer, at least he doesn't seem the sort."
"No, not Charles, I think. Are you equally certain it was Patricia?"
He paused a moment. "You mean, did I see her face clearly? No, not really, but who else could it have been? Certainly it wasn't you."
"No, it wasn't me. What are you going to do?"
"Nothing at the moment, I don't believe. What I'm trying to do is to get you to forgive me. What do you say, sweetheart? Another chance for the bedlamite?"
"She should be whipped."
"Yes, I suppose so. I don't wish Daniel to be hurt, and yet ---"
"She will continue until she is discovered? And his hurt is inevitable?"
"Just as mine was, yes. I was a lucky devil, though. I discovered Charlotte's perfidy before we were married."
"What would you have done if you had discovered it after the wedding?"
Lyon stared at a blood red bougainvillea. "I don't know," he said finally. "I truly don't know."
"Would you come with me, Lyon?"
He arched a thick brow. "Where?"
"A private place. A place I spent a lot of time while I was growing up when I was upset about something or wanted to think. I would like to show it to you."
"Do you mean to cosh me on the head and bury my body?"
"No."
"Let's go, by all means."
It was siesta time and there was no one about. They saddled their own horses and Lyon followed her past the cane fields to a rocky, forested area at the southern tip of the island. She said nothing, merely click-clicked Tanis up a narrow, overgrown trail. "We are here," she said, turning in her saddle.
Lyon stared around. They were nowhere, as far as he could see.
"It's a cave," she said as she dismounted.
His eyes lit up. He hadn't imagined anything of the sort on a Caribbean island. The cave had a narrow, low entrance, but once inside, it magically became a huge room, with great stalagmites and stalactites touching in several places. Diana lit a lantern near the entrance.
"I have never brought anyone here before. I have found some bones and jugs that are very old. Probably of the Arawak Indians, though I cannot be certain. Also, I haven't explored the entire cave. There is a passage, but it is too narrow for me to squeeze through. I haven't found another entrance."
"Thank you for bringing me here." His voice sounded disembodied, rumbling, coming back to him even as he spoke.