by Penny Jordan
James! All the time at the back of her mind was the information Lady Carmichael had given her about his mother. About her affair with Sir Alan and her subsequent death. Every time she thought about it, Jenna experienced a tiny thrill of apprehension. It disturbed her immeasurably that James should be so good at hiding his real feelings. Unless, of course, he had overcome his hatred of Sir Alan. But in that case, why did he want the old Hall so desperately? Oh yes, Jenna could understand how he wanted it. She could even sympathise with him, and if she were not committed to marriage to him no doubt she could have experienced a good deal more fellow feeling towards him.
‘Ready to leave?’
He was at her side, his hand on her arm, drawing her away from the laughing well-wishers.
‘In a minute. I’ve just got to say goodbye to Lucy and Sarah and then I’ll go and change.’
It was late afternoon when they finally drove away from the village. James stopped just outside it to remove the slogans from the paintwork.
‘It all seemed to go off pretty well,’ he commented.
‘Yes.’
She felt him looking at her, and leaned back in her seat closing her eyes.
‘Tired?’
‘A little…I didn’t manage to get back from Yorkshire until two in the morning the other night.’
‘I know.’
She opened her eyes. He was watching her closely, the blue eyes were scrutinising her keenly.
‘I know, I rang you both at the apartment and at the Hall, about ten and then again at one.’
‘It took longer than I expected to hang the curtains.’
‘You must have paid the makers an awful lot of overtime if they were prepared to stay so late to get the job done.’
Jenna felt herself flush. ‘They finished at eight,’ she told him shortly. ‘I went out for something to eat with someone afterwards.’
‘An old friend?’
Jenna felt her nerve endings prickle warningly at the silky menace wrapped round the words.
‘No,’ she told him shortly. ‘An antique dealer I met several weeks ago when I was looking for a Jacobean bookcase for the sitting-room.’
‘Ah, I see, he’d found you one.’
Jenna didn’t ask how James knew that the antique dealer in question was a man. ‘No, no, he hadn’t, but he had found some dining chairs he thought I might be interested in.’
‘Obviously a useful contact to have.’
James didn’t say anything else but Jenna was conscious of wishing she had not needed to tell him about dining with Graham Wilde. He had rung her during the afternoon to tell her about the chairs, and when he had suggested dinner that evening she had demurred at first, but then, realising how late she would have to work, had changed her mind. She had enjoyed his company. He was very knowledgeable about antiques without forcing his views on her, and the time had gone past very quickly.
She knew that Graham was very attracted to her, but he knew that she was on the point of getting married and so she felt that the friendship between them was a safe one. An unusual experience for her, which was probably why she had been able to relax with him so much without wondering how she was going to get rid of him at the end of the evening.
It was still light when James stopped his car outside her apartment at nine o’clock. Jenna didn’t ask him in, she intended to go straight to bed, since she had to be up so early in the morning for their eight o’clock flight.
‘I’ll pick you up at quarter to seven,’ James reminded her as he leaned over to close the door. ‘Sleep well.’
Her luggage was already at his apartment: all she had to do now was get ready for bed and then sleep. Sleep…how she ached for it Jenna thought tiredly as she locked her front door behind her. A tiny smile curled her mouth as she wondered how many brides had spent their wedding night apart from their husbands like this. Not very many.
She showered and then went to bed, lying there reliving the events of the day for several minutes. There had been no doubt about Lucy’s and Sarah’s pleasure in the marriage. Lucy was a changed girl. It was amazing how uninvolved emotionally Jenna felt in what had happened—she could almost have been a bystander at the wedding and not a major participant in it. She didn’t feel married. She didn’t feel anything, she acknowledged sleepily, she was far too tired.
* * *
Jenna groaned as the alarm went off. Struggling against sleep she had a momentary but vivid memory of her dreams. In one she had been trapped in the arms of her fantasy lover from the portrait and then disturbingly his face had become James’s, his hands…Jenna pushed the memory firmly aside and got out of bed. Less than an hour to get ready in before James arrived.
She showered quickly putting on new cool cotton underwear, in readiness for the heat of the Caribbean. James had suggested that she wear something comfortable to travel in and she had picked out a new cotton skirt in a pale, soft yellow, with a matching slightly off the shoulder tee-shirt in yellow and white. As a precaution against the air-conditioning in the plane she had with her her fleecy-lined summer jacket. Low-heeled white canvas shoes completed her outfit. Her hair was still damp from the shower. If she left it it would dry with a natural curl and save her time.
She made some filter coffee and removed the grapefruit she had prepared for herself from the fridge. The sharp, tangy taste set her teeth slightly on edge, but she preferred it like that without added sugar.
She was just pouring her second cup of coffee when she heard the bell. She glanced at her watch, the same rather old and tatty one she had been wearing since she first started working, and reflected wryly that it was high time she bought a new one. James was five minutes early.
She went to let him in and saw that he was dressed as casually as she was herself in cream canvas jeans and a soft blue and cream striped short-sleeved shirt. Unlike her he was already tanned. She would look awful on the beach, Jenna reflected wryly, her skin tanned very slowly and she had stuffed her cosmetics case full of sun filters and expensive protective creams.
‘Coffee?’
‘Please.’ He pulled out a stool and sat down at her breakfast bar while Jenna poured it for him. They could have been any married couple Jenna thought as the sunlight glinted on the new gold of her wedding ring.
‘By the way, I forgot to give you this yesterday.’ James was carrying a canvas jacket that matched his jeans and he pulled a small long package out of it and tossed it over to her.
‘A wedding gift,’ he said when she frowned slightly.
Instantly, Jenna flushed. ‘James, you shouldn’t have bought me anything,’ she told him. ‘I never thought to buy something for you.’
‘Does a gift always have to be repaid with a corresponding present? Open it,’ he told her.
She did, momentarily stunned by what she found in the jeweller’s box. It was one of the most beautiful watches she had ever seen, the delicate oval face framed in gold and set with diamonds and emeralds. It had a gold bracelet strap and was so delicate that Jenna felt almost afraid to wear it.
‘I should leave it behind on this trip if I were you,’ James suggested. ‘It isn’t exactly beachwear!’
‘No, I’d hate to dive into the pool and find I was still wearing it.’ Jenna shuddered at the very thought.
‘It wouldn’t be the end of the world. It’s insured!’
‘Yes, but…’ Jenna stopped, realising how foolish she would sound if she said it wasn’t so much the value of the gift that concerned her although she had little doubt that it was expensive, it was more the thought of destroying her wedding gift actually on her honeymoon. Of course, that would sound ridiculously sentimental to James, and no wonder. No doubt to him the watch was just something he had noticed she needed, and he had bought it for her because it was the thing to do. There was no sentiment attached to it as far as he was concerned. Nor any where she was concerned either, she was quick to tell herself, but then she looked up and he was watching her, the look on his face so close
to the one she had seen that night in her dreams that her whole body went tight with shock and fear.
James seemed not to notice. He glanced at his own watch and said briskly, ‘Time we were leaving. I’ll wash these while——’
‘No, you can leave them,’ Jenna told him. ‘Maureen will be coming round later to clean everywhere up.’ Jenna intended to sub-let her apartment and had already found someone to take over the lease from her but they would not be moving in until after she and James were back from the Caribbean.
* * *
‘It’s okay, we’re airborne, you can relax now.’
Flushing angrily Jenna detached her fingers from the warmth of James’s. She had always loathed flying although she hadn’t told him this and in that stomach-lurching second when she felt the plane start to lift off the ground she had reacted automatically, burying her head in his shoulder and clinging tightly to his hand.
His obvious amusement to her reaction only served to increase her own feeling of embarrassment. ‘Would you like a drink?’
Jenna nodded her head. ‘Perrier water, please.’ They were travelling first class, and now that her nervous dread had subsided she was able to take stock of their surroundings for the first time as the stewardesses moved calmly among the passengers.
A little to her surprise James too ordered Perrier. ‘I never drink alcohol in flight,’ he told her. ‘It only increases the effect of jet lag, especially on a long flight like this one.’
Six hours at least, Jenna reflected, and then an inter-island flight from St Lucia to their final destination. She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes.
She was unaware that James had bent towards her until she felt his breath feather against her ear. ‘If you want to use my shoulder as a pillow, please feel free,’ he murmured.
Jenna felt her mouth tighten slightly. She would rather die than touch him she thought ungratefully. His amusement over her terrified reaction when they took off still rankled.
Apart from its length the flight was uneventful, Jenna dozed most of the morning without really being able to sleep. The lunch they were served was appetising, but she wasn’t really hungry. Later she watched the film, but again without much interest. James had brought some work with him connected with the holiday complex, and he studied that after lunch.
Jenna had not missed the curious and appreciative looks the cabin stewardesses gave him. No doubt they were thinking she was very lucky to be his wife, she thought to herself. Never in a thousand years would they be able to appreciate her true feelings. She knew she had no reason to be so tense and nervy when she was with him, but she was…It was almost as though her deeply based feminine instincts knew something her logical mind did not. Or perhaps she was simply suffering from an excess of woman’s very natural fear of man.
It was dusk when they landed at St Lucia, night falling with unexpected swiftness, the sun a blood-orange ball against a purple-black backdrop.
‘Impressive, but you’ll get used to it,’ James told her as she came to a halt on the runway tarmac to gaze at the sunset.
St Lucia’s airport facilities were almost primitive in comparison to those in the European places Jenna had visited, and the thought of yet another hour’s flight was totally unappealing.
When she asked James if ultimately it would be possible to fly direct to the island he told her that there was a site where an international airport could be constructed, but that so far he had been against this as the island was promoting the image of a luxury holiday retreat and that once direct flights with Europe were established it might lose it.
‘Great care has been taken to ensure that the complex we’ve been building blends into the landscape. It’s only three storeys high and I don’t intend to allow the island to be spoiled by row upon row of high-rise buildings.’
When Jenna saw the plane that would take them out to St Justine she quailed inwardly.
‘Don’t worry, they’re very safe,’ James told her. ‘See this one’s got floats as well, so that if there is an emergency we can land on the water.’
That did reassure her, and this time when they taxied down the runway she dug her nails into her palms, determined at all costs not to reach for James.
Even so, she could not stop herself from closing her eyes when they finally started to lift, and although she could never have admitted it to anyone, when James’s hand covered hers, his thumb stroking soothingly over her bunched knuckles, it was the most reassuring feeling she had ever known.
The landing facilities at St Justine surprised her. Despite the single runway the arrivals lounge was air-conditioned and pleasantly furnished, the staff helpful and smartly uniformed, and James told her that he and the other members of the consortium responsible for the development of the island had insisted that the airport facilities echoed the first-class, luxury image they wished to give the island.
‘People will be arriving tired and irritable after a long flight and we want to make them feel comfortable and relaxed from the moment they leave the plane.’
Several taxis waited outside the airport buildings, but James ignored them and instead directed the porter with their luggage towards a parked Mercedes.
‘This is one of the cars we put at the use of hotel guests. Normally it’s chauffeur-driven, but on this occasion I said I would drive myself.’
He produced a set of keys and unlocked the door so that Jenna could get in. The porter loaded their luggage and then James started the car. The blast of cool air from the air-conditioning was blessedly welcome. Although it was nine o’clock at night it was stiflingly hot outside, an oppressive moist heat that Jenna’s system hadn’t acclimatised to yet.
It took half an hour to drive to the hotel complex. As James had said, it was a long, low, rambling building, painted white, set among informal gardens and reached by a curving drive illuminated with coloured torches. In the light streaming out of the hotel and illuminating the front of it Jenna could see the bushes and palm trees dotted throughout the gardens. To the rear of the hotel were three pools, more gardens, tennis courts, and open-air cinema and various other facilities, plus the beach.
‘We intend later on to construct bungalows in the grounds themselves, but at the moment the only accommodation offered is in the hotel.’ Jenna was a little surprised when they walked into its cool marble-walled and tiled foyer to discover how busy the hotel already was. ‘Friends and family of the people who have worked on the place,’ James told her. ‘We thought it was a good way of making sure the hotel staff get plenty of experience before we open formally.’
Jenna was perplexed. ‘But you said that you wanted my advice about the décor for some of the suites.’
‘The suites, yes. Apart from mine they’re not ready yet, but the main bedrooms and the rest of the hotel are. The suites are at the far end of the hotel; they have their own pool area…but you can see all that tomorrow. Wait here a second.’ He went over to the desk, said something to a beaming, coffee-coloured girl, and was handed a set of keys.
‘The suite’s ready for us. I thought we’d eat there tonight. After the flight I didn’t think either of us would be up to eating in the restaurant.’
Jenna said nothing. In fact she was too tired to do more than follow James down a long marble corridor.
A lift took them up to their suite, which James told her was actually on ground level, because at this point the level of the land rose and the hotel had been built into the hillside itself.
He unlocked the door and allowed her to precede him inside. Someone had already switched on the lamps and Jenna’s first impression was of a blessedly cool and welcoming room decorated in soothing creams with brilliant splashes of green provided by displays of tropical plants and flowers.
As in the foyer the floor was covered in pink-veined, cream marble tiles. Two sofas upholstered in a pretty pink and green floral fabric on a cream background, and made of a dark-mahogany-toned cane faced one another across a cream marble coffee-table.
The plants, Jenna noticed, were standing in cream marble tubs, and there was even set into one wall, an open fireplace with a brass surround. Flanking the chimney-breast were two mirrored alcoves with bookshelves. Some pretty, pinky-beige, shaggy cotton rugs covered the marble tiles in places and the shades on the brass light-fittings and lamps were in distinctive art deco style. As she bent closer to one of the lamps to study the pink, green and cream glass Jenna realised that the lamp portrayed an island scene.
She glanced up queryingly and James told her, ‘I had them made to my own design in London.’
‘By Carla Meadows,’ Jenna said for him, wondering momentarily if his relationship with the provocative and talented designer had been merely a business one. A minute later she was chiding herself for the thought. What business of hers was it what sort of relationship James had had with Carla…or might continue to have, for that matter?
‘I recognise her style,’ she told James. ‘She’s very good.’
‘Would you like to see the rest of the suite while we wait for our dinner? I ordered it in advance,’ he told her forestalling her question.
Large, sliding windows looked out on to the velvet darkness of the Caribbean night, and Jenna gestured towards them. ‘What’s outside?’
‘Come and have a look.’ James walked over to the windows and touched a switch. Immediately, lights sprang on outside, subtly illuminating a delightful private patio area, with raised, mellowed-brick plant containers and a high brick wall on one side, which James explained separated them from the next suite. Set into the wall was a bench and further along a barbecue. When Jenna marvelled over the detail that had gone into the patio’s construction James explained to her that they had designed the suites so that anyone taking one could either use the facilities of the hotel or could remain independent of it and prepare their own meals.