Bride in Barbados (8 page)

Slowly, deliberately, he pulled her into his arms and his
lips covered hers. The kiss was deep and probing, drawn out and filled
with bittersweet hunger. Finally, he tore his mouth from hers with a
reluctant sound and set her away from him. "If we don't stop this,
we'll spend the rest of the day in bed." His eyes burned with the
desire unleashed by the kiss. "Much as I want that, there are things I
must do." He ran a hand over the rough overnight growth of beard on his
chin. "I'll go back to the hotel and shower and shave. Then I'll see
about the license and blood tests, and get us on a flight to Barbados
tomorrow or the next day—as soon as everything can be
arranged." He gripped her shoulders again and kissed her quickly with
hard possession, then let her go abruptly. "I'll be back as soon as
it's all set." His look was solemn all at once. "You won't change your
mind, will you?"

A foolish question, she thought and smiled. "No."

He smiled, too, and left the apartment after looking back
once to brush her with his eyes.

When he was gone, Susan's knees felt suddenly weak. She
lowered herself to the side of the bed, loosened the towel and began
drying her hair with it. After a moment, she stopped and stared at the
doorway through which Travis had just passed. If she had a friend who
was about to do what she was doing, she would do everything in her
power to convince that friend to wait awhile. It was every kind of
insanity to be planning to marry Travis in a day or two. There were so
many arguments against it. And what was there in favor of it, really?
Only her utter certainty that there would never be another man like
Travis for her. Knowing this, she couldn't bear to let him walk out of
her life.

Susan spent the day preparing for the trip to Barbados.
After several phone calls, she finally located her landlord and told
him she was moving. Since she hadn't given notice, she had to forfeit
the month's rent she'd paid a few days earlier. Then she called the
mechanic who was repairing her car and arranged with him to sell it for
whatever he could get and send her the money, minus a commission.

Then she called Dirk at the hotel, and thoroughly enjoyed
telling him that she was leaving her job immediately.

"Come on, honey," he responded, his voice laced with
disbelieving contempt, "you really can't afford this grand gesture, can
you? Besides, you know I can't get another singer by tonight."

"But I thought you could just walk out on the street and
find a dozen," Susan told him. "If not, I guess you'll have to fill in
yourself. How's your singing voice, Dirk?"

"Be here for the first show tonight!" he said, all the
drawl gone from his voice now. "Or you won't get a penny's vacation or
severance pay."

"I'm awfully sorry," she said sweetly, "but I just can't
make it."

He uttered a string of curses, several of which she'd
never even heard before. "You'll live to regret this, Susan. I'll
blacken your name from here to Las Vegas. It'll be a long time before
you sing professionally again."

She sighed elaborately. "Well, that's the way the cookie
crumbles, I guess. Besides, I'm getting married and leaving the
country, so I doubt that I'll have much time for singing in the near
future. Give my regards to Jacky, will you? Oh, and good luck with your
singing debut tonight. I really regret that I'll be too busy to come
and hear it." She dropped the receiver into the cradle in the middle of
another string of uncomplimentary epithets.

Four days later Susan was Mrs. Travis Sennett and sitting
beside her husband on a plane bound for Barbados. Those four days had
run together in her mind until she couldn't distinguish one from the
other. She had phoned her mother in Phoenix with the news and promised
to write all the details later. Her mother had congratulated her but,
as usual, had questioned the wisdom of what Susan was
doing—in this case, going to live so far away in a place
that, when all was said and done, was really a foreign country. Wisely,
Susan refrained from telling her that she'd barely known Travis a week.
That would certainly have given her mother something to criticize. But
she was too happy for her mother's negativism to affect her.

There had been several phone calls and trips to the visa
office and the consulate, for she had wanted to make sure of what she
would have to do to establish dual citizenship and permanent residency
in Barbados. Although Travis had assured her that there would be no
problems with either, she had felt better talking to the proper
authorities herself and going through all the recommended steps.

She had spent one entire day shopping for her wedding
dress and squandered most of her savings on it. But it was worth it,
she told herself now, as she smoothed her hands along the pale lilac
silk from waist to knees, then gently touched the giant orchid corsage
that Travis had given her. She was also wearing new pearl-white sling
pumps with a matching bag. Travis had wanted to pay for the outfit,
but, again, she had insisted upon doing it herself.

"I think," he had commented dryly, "that I'm marrying an
independent woman."

He had contented himself with taking her to the poshest
jewelry store she'd ever seen and letting her choose the
rings—wide platinum bands with four good-sized diamonds in
hers and a modest solitaire in his. When she had made her choice,
Travis had grinned and said teasingly, "You have exquisite taste,
darling." She hadn't asked what the rings had cost; she hadn't
wanted to know.

That had been yesterday, and this morning they had stood
before a judge who pronounced them husband and wife. It still seemed
like something that had happened only in her imagination, and she
turned her head to look at Travis, to assure herself that he was real.
He had pushed his seat back after takeoff and sprawled beside her, as
much as it was possible to sprawl in an airplane seat, with his eyes
closed.

A soft smile touched her lips. He seemed more ruggedly
handsome to her every time she looked at him. And she no longer had any
doubts about whether she was in love. Dear heaven, she adored
him—desperately, maybe even obsessively. He was an addiction,
a fever in her blood.

Unable to resist touching him, she put her hand over his,
where it rested on his knee. He opened his eyes to meet her gaze and
smiled.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

He adjusted his seat. "You didn't. I can never sleep in
these cramped quarters." He turned his hand palm up to clasp hers and
squeezed gently.

She laughed. "Gracious, I feel as if I can spread out in
all directions. I've never traveled first class before."

"It beats coach, I'll admit. What I'd really like, though,
is to have a private room all to ourselves." His tone was teasingly
erotic. "So that I could have my way with you."

She looked into his eyes for a long moment and felt her
pulse leap. "Stop looking at me like that," she said with a slight
breathlessness.

He bent to kiss her forehead. "You're right. I think we'd
better turn this conversation to other things."

"Tell me about Barbados. I want to know everything. Were
the British the first people to live there?"

"No, not by more than two thousand years. Several early
Indian tribes beat them to it. The last were the Caribs, who were very
fierce and loved war, and they killed or conquered the others, or drove
them off the island. 'Carib' comes from the Spanish word for cannibal,
which they were."

"What happened to them?"

"Spanish and Portuguese ships began to stop at the island."

"Did the Caribs eat them?" Susan asked, shuddering.

"A few, but they were no match for the Europeans' superior
weapons or for the smallpox and other diseases they brought. The
Indians who didn't die in battle or from disease were probably
transported as slaves to Spanish colonies."

"It's ironic, isn't it? The Caribs suffered the same fate
they visited on their Indian enemies. They might not have been served
for dinner, but they might have preferred that to slavery."

"It's the way of all human history. The strong conquer the
weak." The blunt statement intruded into her blissful happiness, but
only briefly. Travis continued, "The first English settlers came to the
island about a hundred years after the Caribs disappeared. It was a
rigorous life, but they planted crops that did well in the tropical
climate and the settlement grew. The first Sennett arrived before 1700.
My plantation has been in the family ever since. Eventually sugarcane
arrived and Barbados evolved into a slave society, with Africans being
brought to work on the plantations. The slaves were emancipated in the
1830's and we've been an independent nation since 1966."

"Then your government is parliamentary, patterned on
England's?"

He stroked her fingers idly as he nodded. "I think I told
you that my party is presently in power. There's a strong opposition
party, as well, but most members of both major parties have the best
interests of Barbados at heart."

"You said something once about a group of people who want
to exploit the island."

Two frown lines etched themselves between his dark brows.
"I'm sure there are that kind in every country. Our would-be exploiters
are relatively small in number, but they're powerful because the
leaders seem to have wealth and influence. They keep a low profile,
naturally. Nobody seems to know for certain exactly who the leaders
are, but we all have our suspicions." There was a hard, grim set to his
mouth. "They're nothing but petty tyrants who would like to turn the
island into a dictatorship and bleed it dry."

Susan felt a small stab of alarm. "Is there any danger of
that happening?"

"Not as long as I, and all the people like me who want
representative government, stay alert and take nothing for granted." He
glanced at her and saw her worried expression. His face cleared and he
chuckled. "Don't give it another thought. I tend to get carried away
when I think about what those people are trying to do, but there's
really no danger of it coming about. We have our problems, but most of
them have little to do with politics."

"It must have been nice growing up there," Susan murmured
after a moment. "I'll bet you know everyone on the island."

"Almost everyone. Many of the friends I grew up with
stayed on the island or returned after moving away for a while, as I
did. One friend who I want you to meet is Kay Harte, who was a
classmate of mine until I went away to college. She runs a boutique in
Bridgetown, where you'll probably be doing a lot of shopping. She keeps
up with the fashion trends in Paris and New York and has one of the
best selections of women's clothing on Barbados. I want you to have
female friends."

She gave him an impish smile. "But no male ones? Tell me,
was Kay your teen-age sweetheart?"

His expression was amused. "No. We were together a lot,
growing up, but we were never more than friends."

"Good," she said contentedly. "Then I won't need to be
jealous of her."

"You don't need to be jealous of anyone, my darling," he
said with a look that sent a delicious shiver up her backbone. A sudden
image of the children she and Travis might someday have together
flashed into her mind.

"You're looking rather pleased with yourself," Travis told
her. "What were you thinking just then?"

"I don't want to give you any more ideas at the moment
than you already have," she teased.

"Tell me, woman," he ordered.

She brought his hand to her mouth, brushing the fingers
with her lips. "I was thinking about our future children." She looked
up at him. "I hope you want children. I just realized we've never
discussed it."

"I want
your
children very much," he
assured her, his dark eyes caressing her face. "And the sooner the
better. I'm not getting any younger, and I want to watch them grow up."

"By all means," she said with a tinkling laugh. "Since
you're already such a tottering old gentleman, we'd better waste no
time—once we're off this plane," she added as his hand came
to rest on her thigh.

"I want you now," he said unnecessarily.

"I know, love," she responded softly, "but we mustn't
shock that elderly lady across the aisle. Try to get some sleep, why
don't you?"

"Fat chance," he growled, "with you sitting there looking
so beautiful."

But he pushed his seat back again and closed his eyes, and
Susan followed his example. She didn't doze, however. Her mind was too
busy wondering what Barbados and Travis's plantation would be like.
Would his friends, Kay Harte, for instance, approve of her? It was odd
that, as much as Travis seemed to want a family, he hadn't married
before now, in spite of what he'd told her about being too busy with
his work. She knew there must have been a number of women in his life
before she met him. Ah, well, she thought placidly, she must thank her
luck that he'd stayed single and apparently uncommitted to any other
woman before her, for whatever reason.

The flight finally came to an end, and Susan waited with
their luggage outside the terminal while Travis claimed his French-made
sports car, which he had left in the airport parking lot, and brought
it around. They drove along a narrow road past green hills and
cultivated plots of sugarcane and yams with the brilliant blue sea
never out of sight. It was as lovely as Susan had imagined, and she
gazed raptly through the car window the whole way, trying to take in
everything.

There was too much, of course. She could hardly wait until
she could take the car and explore the island on her own while Travis
worked the long hours he had warned her about.

Evening was coming on as they passed through the narrow,
bustling main street of Bridgetown at a snail's pace. Travis pointed
out the bank in which he held the controlling interest. It was a large
gray structure rising three stories from the street. Along the second
floor in front ran a roofed veranda with white wrought-iron columns and
railing. Above the third story, two square towers rose, their rounded
domes also painted white. The building was impressive and added to
Susan's rapidly growing certainty that she had married an extremely
wealthy man.