"Yes. Keep your hat on. This afternoon we must stay in the shade."
Lyon hadn't the foggiest notion of how to produce a fire. He watched, fascinated, as Diana managed to produce a spark from the sticks she was rubbing together. She leaned her head down and gently blew on the spark, then fanned it gently with her hand. "There," she said, sitting back on her heels. "Now I can make us a marvelous lunch!"
They constructed a small stone oven of sorts. Lyon wove palm fronds together the way she had shown him, and watched Diana pound the cassava root into flour.
"Water," she said suddenly. "The time has come, Lyon. We've got to find some fresh water."
He just stared at her a long moment. They'd drunk the milk from the coconut earlier. "I hadn't thought of that," he said slowly, the implications rising in his mind with alarming accuracy.
They collected hollow coconut shells and went inland. "We must look very carefully," she said, pushing a branch of a tree out of her way. "Let's take some of this fruit. It's mango and quite good just as it is."
"Why must we look carefully?"
"If we find fresh water, it is very likely that it will be surrounded by so much foliage that we won't at first see it."
The island rose only very slightly, but the humidity and the struggle through the dense undergrowth left them quickly winded. They found a pond fifteen minutes later. It was the most beautiful spot Lyon had ever seen. Vivid pink oleanders and scarlet hibiscus were everywhere, and the brightest greens he had ever witnessed surrounded the small pool.
It didn't look at all stagnant, which surprised him. "Can we also bathe here?"
"Yes, certainly. It is fresh because it usually rains in the afternoon."
"Will you bathe with me? Think of the fun we could have."
"Go to the devil, Lyon."
"Let's get our water, then I am going to strip and wallow in that pool."
She wanted to also and eyed it wistfully. She looked up to see him shrugging out of his shirt, then peeling off his britches. She turned quickly around waiting until she heard a splash and a groan of pleasure.
"I've died and gone to heaven," he said, grinning at her. "Look, Diana, keep on your chemise. Come on, I swear not to ravish you."
"There is so much more we have to do," she began.
"And all the time in the world to do it. Come on." With those words, he turned and swam to the other side of the pool.
Diana slipped off her gown and jumped into the water. It wasn't deep, just barely over her head in the middle. She kicked off the sandy bottom. "Ah," she said with great satisfaction when her head cleared the water.
He watched her unbraid her hair and fan it out around her. She looked happy and carefree as a child. He felt something change deep inside him. It was a very warm, a very expanding feeling. "It was that coconut I ate," he said to himself. "It's making me bilious."
"Did you say something?"
He wanted to swim to her and wrap her hair around him. But he had promised, more fool he. He said instead, "The name 'Virgin Gorda' is delightful. Are there others as intriguing?"
She swam toward him, stretched out, and found that her feet touched bottom. "Well, there's Beef Island and Peter Island. Not terribly enchanting. How about Dead Chest or Ginger Island?"
"Virgin Gorda will remain my favorite. What is the Spanish word for slender or thin?"
"Why?"
He grinned at her. "I want to find a suitable nickname for you, my dear."
"In that case I shan't tell you! Besides, you told me I wasn't a complete virgin anymore."
At that moment, he actually felt again his manhood pressing briefly against her maidenhead. He shuddered, his eyes closing. He felt the tightness of her, the warmth. "You're virgin enough," he said, and he sounded as if he were in pain.
"Lyon?"
"Leave it, Diana. Do your survival accomplishments include the making of soap?"