She said nothing for many moments. He felt her legs wrap around his hips. Finally, "Can we take my mare back to England with us?"
Lyon felt as though Atlas and his worldly weight had both fallen from his shoulders. "Yes, certainly. We can breed her if you like with Flying Davie from Hawk's stable, and have a lot of little Tanises."
"You are a nice man, Lyon," she said, and kissed him.
"Yes, I am. Are you only just now coming to that conclusion?" He dunked her beneath the water when she didn't answer immediately. She came up, sputtering and laughing. "I take it all backyou are a brute."
"But I am your brute," he said, and dunked her again. He felt her arms go about his legs and he went under.
They walked back toward the great house, covered with their dressing gowns. Lyon paused a moment and gently lifted her face. He studied her features for a long time, saying nothing. He kissed her.
"You taste like salt."
"As do you."
"As I said earlier, it is all over with me. All the suspicions, all my notions of women as the betrayers. Charlotte's Disease is a thing of the past. I love you, Diana."
She blinked up at him, unable to quite believe him. She felt her heart thudding in strong, hurried beats.
"It's true. I think it's because you are so very exquisite with your legs wide apart, lying on your back, moaning wild little cries in your sleep."
Still, she stared up at him, silent.
He clasped her head between his hands and kissed her deeply. "Even though you are salty and wet and dreadfully tanned, I still love you."
A deep shudder went through her. "All right," she whispered finally. "All right."
"Excellent," he said, took her hand, and led her back to the great house.
She was nearly asleep in their bed when she heard him say softly, "You said it aloud, you know, that afternoon in our cave."
Said what? she wondered, her mind too fuzzy to think straight.
"I knew then that it wouldn't be fair or just not to return your affection."
"Hmmm," she managed. She remembered now that she'd told him she loved him. She evidently hadn't just thought it then.
She fell asleep smiling. Her husband would be a handful, of that she had no doubt. He was strong-willed and stubborn. They would argue and yell at each other, and love. They would have children, and with
any luck life would be good.
Oddly, Lyon was thinking along the same lines. Life, he decided as he drifted into sleep, would never be boring.
Not with Diana. Diana Ashton, Countess of Saint Leven. A nice sound, that.
Diana was given ample evidence of his stubbornness the following morning. He said, "I am going to Tortola, to visit Mendenhall. As I told you, I have something of an idea. I wish to see exactly how things stand before I act."
"All I need is fifteen minutes to pack a valise," she said.
"No, you are staying here."
And that is supposed to be that? she wondered, staring silently at him for a moment. He tells me he loves me and then gives me orders?
I will act reasonably about this, she decided. "Lyon, you know nothing of Tortola or of anything. You need me to be with you."
"I'm going with Bemis," he said shortly.
"Lyon, you are being ridiculous and too stubborn for words! Of course I am coming with you."