It seemed almost too fantastic to believe. And why should he have had this room designed for her in any case? He was an extremely rich man she reminded herself and rich men could afford to indulge their whims, no matter how fantastic. It was an uncharitable thought and Jenna knew it, but it made her feel slightly uncomfortable and uneasy in some way to think of this room being designed especially for her. It was a beautiful woman’s room, and not just that it was a room that whispered a sensuous message, that suggested a woman who was proud of and enjoyed her own sexuality—a woman as different from her as it would be possible to be.
Shaking the thought out of her mind she went across to study the wall of wardrobes. These were not mirrored but had been painted with the same marble finish as the walls and blended perfectly with them.
She opened the only other door in the room and stepped into the bathroom stunned by what she saw. She had expected something similar to the bedroom, but it was anything but…The bathroom possessed an opulence and extravagance fit for the most free-spending of Arab princes. Everything in it…the walls, floor, sanitaryware, everything, was constructed from a dark green-gold veined substance, which Jenna recognised as malachite, even though she had never seen it in such vast quantities before. In the mirrors lining one wall she caught sight of her own reflection and thought how out of place she looked in her creased cotton skirt and thin blouse amid all this opulence. She touched a gold tap wonderingly. It ought to have looked overpowering and out of place but instead it conveyed a sensuous richness that she could almost feel like heat against her skin.
She backed out and closed the door and then turned to James. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it in my life,’ she told him truthfully.
His mouth twitched and he smiled at her. ‘It is somewhat startling, isn’t it?’ he agreed. ‘But what sold me on it was the artist’s impression of it the designer showed me. He had sketched a woman standing in the shower. He had only drawn the back view but what caught my eye was her hair. It was exactly the same colour as yours.’
A frisson of sensation ran shockingly down Jenna’s spine. She wanted to speak but found she couldn’t, and then before either of them could say anything the intercom crackled and a sing-song voice announced that their cases had arrived.
James went to let her porter in, and before Jenna could say anything the man had wheeled both sets of luggage through into the master bedroom. She shrugged mentally as James tipped the man. They could sort it all out later. Right now she was feeling very tired. She wondered how long their dinner would be. She would probably feel better if she at least showered and changed, she decided, but when she went to open the cases she discovered that apart from her cosmetics case, hers seemed to be missing. She studied the tag on one unfamiliar navy case, and frowned over it, checking one of the Gucci bags she knew belonged to James. The handwriting was the same in both cases, but the blue bags were definitely not hers.
‘Having problems?’ James stood by the open doorway watching her.
‘These cases…’ Jenna waved a hand towards them. ‘You seem to have written the labels for them but they aren’t mine.’
‘They are now. Here are the keys.’ He threw a small set of keys towards her which she caught with a clumsy reflex action, her forehead pleated in a
small frown as she struggled to understand.
‘Remember what I said to you about your clothes?’ James told her. ‘I decided to take steps to make sure that you didn’t ignore me.’
Enlightenment dawned. Jenna’s eyes widened, first in shock and then in anger. Grasping the keys she unlocked the first case and threw back the lid.
It was full of filmy silk and cotton underwear. Colouring hotly she slammed down the lid again, inwardly fuming. How dare James do this? The very thought of his high-handedness in arbitrarily deciding and planning his course of action brought her anger to seething, bubbling, boiling point.
She opened another case and discovered that it seemed to be full of cotton beach and casual wear, most of it in either pink or the soft greeny-turquoise colour he seemed to like so much. The label on a pair of shorts caught her eye and her mouth hardened. She recognised it, having seen it when she had been shopping for clothes to bring away with her, and though the American designed resort clothes had appealed to her immensely she had dismissed them as being far too expensive and had gone for chain-store clothes instead.
Gritting her teeth she opened the third and final case. This one was packed with evening and more formal wear, and shoes. She pulled out one dress of finely pleated multi-shaded pink silk. The dress itself was no more than a tube of the delicate material with what appeared to be a dangerously low back.
Closing the case she turned to James. She wanted to scream and rage at him, to take the cases and dump the entire contents in the hotel pool, but even as the longing to do so possessed her, she knew it would be sheer folly. The very last thing she wanted was to be marooned in their suite with nothing but what she was standing up in.
‘I did warn you,’ James told her mildly.
Anger seethed through Jenna. ‘I bought new clothes,’ she told him through gritted teeth.
‘Yes. Chain-store beachwear that Lucy told me was dull and boring, and a couple of cotton dresses from last season’s range that had been marked down.’
‘So why should that bother you?’ Jenna stormed at him. ‘Just because I’m your wife, it doesn’t give you the right to tell me how to dress!’
‘But you are my wife and others will judge you accordingly. It would start an immediate panic in the City if you were seen on honeymoon wearing sale-bought clothes,’ he told her mockingly. ‘I couldn’t let you do it. I have my financial reputation to think of.’
Jenna knew he was mocking her. ‘Like hell,’ she flung at him bitterly.
James ignored her comment and glanced at his watch. ‘You’ve got half an hour to shower and dress in before dinner. If you’re not ready when it is then, I warn you, Jenna, I’ll shower and dress you myself!’ He saw her expression and laughed shortly. ‘Hardly a flattering reaction, but still if it accomplishes what I require…’ He paused in the doorway before striding over to the bed and picking up one of his own cases. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he told her as he left. ‘And remember, Jenna, you’ve got half an hour. No more.’
* * *
‘More wine?’
Recklessly, Jenna nodded her head and then immediately wished she had not done so when the room started to whirl round her. She had already drunk far more than she was used to. James had ordered a bottle of champagne which they had drunk before their meal and this was her third glass of wine. The meal had been delicious—the hotel employed a nouvelle cuisine chef, James told her, and their meal had been produced by him.
Jenna had enjoyed every mouthful but now she felt exhausted. It was almost one o’clock in the morning British time, and the effects of the long flight were beginning to catch up with her.
‘Would you prefer to have your coffee in the sitting-room?’
This time she didn’t nod her head, but she noticed rather absently that it was difficult for her to frame the word yes, but somehow that didn’t have the power to concern her greatly.