"Stop it, Lyon."
"Why?"
"Very well. I lied. There, I've said it."
"This is a routine that is growing boring, Diana. Once more, lied about what in particular?"
"I lied about wanting to beabandoned. I don't want to be a trollop. I don't want to have men pawing me, ever. I want to remain a half-virgin. I would have preferred being a whole virgin, but what's done is done."
Lyon simply stared at her. He didn't doubt her. He felt like a complete fool. If he hadn't wanted to believe that she was like Charlotte, he would have seen through it in a minute. The glowing embers cast shadows on her face, and he wished he could see her expressive eyes more clearly.
"All that was nonsense? An act to keep me away from you? To make me so furious that I wouldn't want to touch you?"
"That's right. It worked for a while, until you got furious in the other direction, so to speak." She raised her face and looked at him clearly. "I don't want to be forced, Lyon. Not by any man. I want to stay myself."
"That's impossible. Now."
She sucked in her breath at his wretched complacency. She tried for contempt and managed a weak sneer. "Is this the behavior of a London gentleman? To force a woman? I thought you earls only did that to helpless females dependent on you. Maids, farm girls ---"
"Don't be a damned fool, Diana! Never have I taken advantage of a female dependent on me."
"You were going to force me. What is your excuse for that?"
He shrugged and doused the feeling of guilt. "I don't have one. But now I do. Please dampen the idiotic woman's logic and listen to me. You and I, my dear girl, are alone together on an island. When we are rescued, we will be soon enough with your father. Now, you have no choice but to accept me as your husband. None at all." He paused, then said, "Something just bit me!"
"A mosquito, I guess. I thought there would be more of them, but we're lucky. On some islands they are everywhere. I could make us up something from mud and wild basil, but it's more noxious than an occasional bite."
"There's something else, my dear," he said, harking back. "When and if we are rescued, I doubt we'll be wearing much. Already my britches are the worse for wear. As for your gown, I suggest that you simply remove it and go about in your chemise, else it won't last out the next three days. Do you wish to be stark-naked when help arrives?"
There were rips in the gown and two seams had parted. He was right. "You don't have a chemise," she said.
"No." He grinned, and in the dim firelight she could see his white teeth gleaming. "But I suppose you need to accustom yourself to my body. Perhaps it will make you more reasonable."
"Why is it that men seemingly have no modesty?"
"Because we have a natural tendency to flaunt? All right, we just don't, that's all. Besides, I think I should like to have a tan all over."
"Lyon, I don't like you."
"Ah, my heart overflows with your sweet words. I think I shall go to sleep now. If you get cold, feel free to come to me for warmth. I shall try, at least now, to contain my randiness."
"Thank you."
"Lord, I wish I had a brandy. It's really the only thing I miss."
She giggled. "Do you know that we make wine from sugar apples? It is our Christmas wine."
"I know, you've watched it made, but you can't quite manage it. Right?"
"Forgive me."
"I should also like to clean my teeth."
"Hmmm. You know, perhaps there is some white root on our island. We could grind it up and rub our teeth with it. Mixed with water, it also makes an excellent mouthwash. We'll find some tomorrow."
Our island. He smiled a bit at that.
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