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.