Honeymoon Island

by Marjorie Lewty

  Sometimes James joined her for an hour or two, but mercifully she saw very little of Guy. Most of the managers of Warren Martin's companies had arrived, and there were endless meetings at the bank's office in Georgetown, usually going on until late in the evening. 'To try to sort out the almighty mess,' James told her.

  When she and Guy were together it was always in James's presence; Lucie noticed that when James tactfully tried to leave them together Guy always managed to outwit him. It was, she thought, almost as if he didn't want to be alone with her. Perhaps he was afraid that James would guess the truth but, whatever the reason, Lucie was relieved of the strain of being alone with him. And in the wake of the tragedy she couldn't be expected to behave like a blissful engaged girl when the three of them were together, so as the days passed she was sure that James suspected nothing unusual in the situation.

  James himself began to revive as the days passed. 'I think we're going to come out of it OK,' he told Lucie. 'It's been touch and go, but Guy has been pretty darned marvellous about it. He's masterminding a huge reorganisation and it looks almost certain that all Father's companies will be able to carry on in one way or another.'

  No scandal, then? No jobs lost? No scurrilous headlines in the papers?

  'I'm glad,' said Lucie, and that sounded pathetically inadequate when she considered what the alternative might have been.

  'You've got yourself a remarkable bloke there, little sister,' James told her, with more than a touch of hero-worship. 'A mind like a razor.'

  'Yes.' Lucie nodded automatically. A razor that would cut through anything that stood between him and something he happened to want. A steel blade, keen and cold and sharp.

  At the funeral Lucie sat between James and Guy in the little Anglican chapel and tried not to weep for the father she had loved and lost and then found again for such a short time. James stared straight ahead of him, and she guessed that his feelings were quite different from hers. It was Guy who saw that she was weeping and his hand covered hers briefly. At that moment Lucie was grateful for the contact, it made him seem a little more human.

  Afterwards the few people who had attended the service gathered at the apartment for a buffet lunch. There were Warren Martin's business colleagues and one or two acquaintances that he had made in Grand Cayman; Steve Maddox who had flown from Houston for the inquest and stayed on for the funeral. Giles Blunt, the bank's lawyer, who had arrived only the day before bringing his elegant wife, Cynthia, with him—'for the trip', he had told Lucie when they were introduced.

  Giles was a thin, fairish man of about forty with a bony, clever face. He pressed Lucie's hand sympathetically when they were introduced and gave her a nice, friendly smile. Cynthia, on the other hand, subjected her to a hard, assessing glance before she held out a languid hand. She was a striking silver-blonde with a fashionably pencil-thin body and a bored expression. Lucie disliked her on sight; she seemed to represent all the hard, elegant females who had formed part of her father's circle in the bad old days.

  The day was turning out stiflingly hot and the air-conditioner could hardly cope with the crowd of bodies in the room. Lucie stood with James and Guy, wearing the blue jersey two-piece suit that she had travelled in. It was much too warm for a day like this, but it had been the only outfit that was remotely suitable for the occasion. She supposed she could have gone out and searched for a black dress, but she couldn't summon up the energy to do it.

  The service had been a strain and she felt a headache threatening. She wanted to escape to her room, but these people were, in a way, her guests. Most of the men were gathered round the buffet table. Lucie's glance passed to Cynthia Blunt, who was draped over a sofa looking beautiful and sulky. She was obviously dressed for the occasion, but managed to look sexy at the same time in a very stylish black crepe-de-chine dress with flowing lace sleeves and a revealing neckline. When she moved a waft of heavy exotic perfume hung on the air all around her. I hope I don't have much to do with her while she's here, Lucie thought fervently.

  Steve Maddox came over to their little group to say goodbye, and the three men broke off their conversation while James thanked him sincerely for his help.

  Steve took Lucie's hand in his and squeezed it. 'Dorothy sent her love, and you must come and visit with us if you ever come to Houston, Lucie.' He paused, clearing his throat awkwardly. 'It's been a bad time for you, my dear. I hope things go better in the future.'

  Guy stepped round James and put his arm possessively across her shoulders. 'They will, I promise you,' he said in a firm voice. 'I'm going to look after her from now on. Lucie and I are getting married next week.'

  There was a sudden silence in the room. He had spoken loudly enough to make himself heard to everybody there. Then the congratulations broke out and the men at the buffet table gathered round.

  Steve Maddox's plump face broke into a wide grin. 'Gee, now that's quite something to tell Dorothy when I get back! She'll give me no peace till I promise to bring her to the wedding.'

  'You'd both be very welcome,' said Guy. 'If you leave your phone number—'

  Lucie stood beside him, a small fixed smile on her mouth. How insensitive of him to pick just this moment to make his announcement! Her glance fell on Cynthia Blunt. The bored look had left her face, her cheeks were drained of colour, her eyes narrowed almost viciously. She looked momentarily like someone who had had a very nasty shock and was taking it badly. Then the expression was wiped off her face and replaced by a sweet smile. She rose gracefully. 'Well, this is a bombshell! You should have warned us, Guy darling. Did you know, Giles?'

  'Not a hint.' Her husband eyed her with a faint smile, his thin lips drawn down at the corners.

  Cynthia turned to Guy. 'Well, congratulations and all that, both of you. What a pretty little girl you've found yourself, Guy. So clever of you! But then you've always been disgustingly clever, haven't you, darling? I warn you, you'll have quite a job living up to him, Lucie.'

  Lucie stared back at her. 'I'm sure Guy will give me all the help I need,' she said sweetly, smiling up at him.

  'Try and stop me!' He grinned broadly and bent his head and kissed her on the mouth, and all the men laughed delightedly.

  Lucie's knees sagged under her. The feel of Guy's lips made her heart race. Her head was thumping and she felt faint and she wasn't going to be able to stand much more. She was trying to think how she could get away, when Guy leaned down and said softly, 'I think you've had as much as you can stand, Lucie. I'm going to take you to your room.'

  Dimly she heard him making her apologies for her and then his arm was strong round her, leading her out of the heat and noise into the blessed cool of her bedroom.

  She sank on to the bed, shielding her eyes from the light. Guy drew the curtains and said, 'Aspirins-have you got any anywhere?'

  'On the shelf in the shower-room,' she whispered.

  He found the tablets and gave her a glass of water. 'These'll soon do the trick.' He put an arm round her and helped her to sit up while she swallowed the tablets. He was being kind, she thought vaguely, and his arm was strong and comforting. She had a foolish wish to snuggle closer, but instead she drew away and laid her head back on the pillow. She mustn't let him believe she was a weak female who normally needed a man to look after her—that would lead directly to his running her life for her, as her father had once tried to do.

  It was quite an effort to speak, but she summoned the energy to say, 'Thank you, Guy, now you get back to the others. I'll be quite better soon.'

  He still hovered over the bed. 'Sure? You look very pale.'

  She managed to smile. 'I'll be all right. I'm tough, you know.'

  He was bending over the bed, his face coming nearer and nearer. 'I don't believe a word of that nonsense,' he said, and kissed her very gently on the mouth. 'Now, go to sleep and don't come out again until you feel quite better. I'll get rid of the crowd soon. Oh, and I nearly forgot—you'd better have this now that the announcement has been made.
'

  He put something down beside her on the bedside table and then the door shut quietly behind him.

  Lucie closed her eyes. It was quite extraordinary, but already her headache was better. She pulled herself up in the bed and found that Guy had left a small envelope on the table. Inside the envelope was a velvet padded box with a ring of black coral, surrounded by tiny pearls, on a thin gold band. On the envelope Guy had written, 'I look forward to buying you diamonds later, but perhaps this local ware will do for the moment. G.'

  Lucie slipped the ring on her third finger. It fitted perfectly. It was a beautiful ring and she preferred it to diamonds, but Guy wouldn't have known that. Soon they would be married and they knew nothing about each other—nothing at all. But he had been kind to her just now, so perhaps there was a softer side to him. There was a little smile on her lips as she drifted off into sleep.

  After that the days resumed the pattern that Lucie had come to expect. In the daytime she was mostly on her own, in the evenings she would eat out at one of the restaurants along the beach with James and Guy. One evening they were joined by Giles Blunt and the exotic Cynthia, who monopolised the conversation and fluttered her long eyelashes at the men (principally, Lucie noticed, at Guy) and told stories that got more and more risqué until finally her husband put his hand over her wineglass and said, That's enough, Cynthia, I think it's time we left.' When they had gone James chuckled and said, 'Quite a girl, that one!' For some reason Lucie found herself waiting for Guy's comment, but he merely smiled his enigmatic smile and said nothing.

  Would she ever know what he was thinking? Lucie wondered, watching the inscrutable face. Whatever sort of a marriage could she have with a man so detached, so unforthcoming ? She shivered inside as she thought that in only a few days she would know.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Five days later Lucie sat between Guy and James in the hired convertible, as Guy drove towards the Grand Cayman airport. In her new oyster-coloured silk suit, which Guy had chosen for her to wear at the wedding, she felt very conscious that she was being squeezed between the two men—in more ways than the obvious one. She eased herself a little towards James and he put a big arm round her and said, 'Well, well, this has been a very strange time. It will take me until I get back home to come to terms with all that's happened. But at least one good thing has come out of it. You two are going to be very happy and I wish you, once again, all the luck in the world.'

  Lucie murmured something unintelligible and Guy turned his head to bestow a dazzling blue smile on her, then cursed as an approaching car swerved violently across the road. 'Bloody fools!' he barked. 'Why can't they remember that you drive on the left here?'

  There followed a masculine-type discussion about the accident level in Grand Cayman, which lasted until they reached the airport, and gave Lucie a brief respite from the act she had been putting on since the civil wedding two hours ago.

  She had gone through the dry little ceremony as if it were all happening to someone else. And after-wards, at a restaurant lunch where the only guests, beside James, had been Giles and Cynthia Blunt, and the Maddoxes, Steve and Dorothy—who had flown over from Houston for another short holiday especially to be at the wedding—she had smiled until her lips were stiff from the effort of trying to look like a blissfully happy bride. But once James had left she need keep up the pretence no longer. That was one advantage of the fact that they were, it seemed, to stay on in the Caymans for at least two more weeks. By the time she saw James again she would somehow have managed to get a grip on herself.

  James's face, when he kissed her goodbye, was the one happy thing about her wedding-day. Everything had taken a turn for him and he was the old James-positive, cheerful, looking towards the future. He had had a long phone call to Angela, at her mother's home, and from his expression afterwards Lucie had guessed that all had gone well.

  'It's going to be all right,' he said afterwards to Lucie. 'We're going to make plans when I get back.'

  As he checked in at the airport and the three of them made for passport control, she could see that he could hardly wait to get home to Angela. Just at that moment James's happiness made up for her own unknown and frightening immediate future.

  He shook Guy's hand. 'Thanks for everything,' he said seriously. 'You've been our fairy godfather, and I won't forget it. Angela and I will look forward to seeing you both when you get back to England.'

  He hugged Lucie again and went through the barrier. Lucie watched until his tall, broad figure was lost in the crowd. He seemed like the one dear, familiar thing in her world, and she wanted to cry.

  Guy took her arm and led her out to the car. 'It seems rather an anticlimax,' he said, as he drove back to Georgetown, 'but I'm afraid I must get back to the office for a short time. I've got a spot of paperwork to finish. What would you like to do? Hang around in the town and wait for me, or I could get a taxi to take you back to the condo?'

  'I'll hang around for a while,' she said coolly. She wasn't quite sure what she had expected when they were alone together for the first time since the wedding. But this unconcerned, almost indifferent approach seemed like a slap in the face. 'I have a few things I want to buy, then I'll find a taxi for myself.'

  'Just as you like.' He parked the car outside the modern white building where his bank had their office. 'I'll see you later, then.' They might have been married for years, Lucie thought, as she made her way to the waterfront and strolled along by the little harbour, stopping to watch a boat being unloaded at the quayside, a pint-sized crane waving about busily to the accompaniment of much good-humoured shouting and clanking of chains. Georgetown was such a happy place, she thought, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves—even if they were working. She wondered how long it would be before she felt happy again herself.

  In the Viking Gallery she gazed at the beautiful things displayed in the windows—precious gems, porcelain figurines, black and pink coral jewellery, glittering crystal—she reminded herself that as Guy Devereux's wife she could afford to buy anything that took her fancy, as she had done when she had lived with an indulgent father. She smiled sadly to herself as she remembered how generous that father had been once—how loving and proud of his pretty daughter. And it could have been like that again if only—if only—She missed him terribly now and grieved for the loving understanding that hadn't had time to mature.

  Blinking away the tears, she turned away from the window. If this had been an ordinary marriage she would have gone into the Gallery to buy some loving reminder for her husband, but Guy wouldn't appreciate a sentimental gesture of that kind, she felt sure. Diamond cuff-links would be more in his line, she thought cynically.

  Then she drew back with a little gasp as she saw Guy himself, strolling along beside the harbour, his dark head bent towards his companion in earnest conversation. She was pressing close to him, her arm linked through his, her white-gold head shining like silver in the sunshine, her exquisite face raised to his, her red-glossed lips parted in a secret little smile. Cynthia Blunt!

  Lucie stood like a statue, watching them until they disappeared round the corner by the camera shop, their heads intimately close. So this was the 'spot of paperwork' that he had to get through! The empty feeling inside her wasn't jealousy—it couldn't be. What did it matter to her how many women Guy had in his life? She would probably have to turn a blind eye to many things that went on in this farce of a marriage. She twisted the new, shining gold ring on her finger. She was Guy Devereux's wife, heaven help her, and too much depended on her now for her to try to back out. Maybe when Guy discovered her inexperience he would decide to leave her alone. That was the best thing she could hope for. Meanwhile, there was her wedding night to be faced. Her heart sinking, she made her way slowly back to the taxi-rank beside the harbour.

  Guy breezed into the apartment half an hour after Lucie got back there herself. He looked very pleased with life.

  'Pack a bag, my sweet child, we're off on our honeymoon!' He gra
bbed her by the waist and swung her off her feet.

  This was a Guy she hadn't seen before. Perhaps his meeting with Cynthia Blunt had gone satisfactorily. Had he reassured her about the need for him to have a wife? She could almost hear him saying, 'It won't make any difference to us, my love.'

  She waited until he released her and then straightened the jacket of her silk suit with care. 'I shouldn't have thought a honeymoon was necessary,' she said.

  'Necessary? What sort of a word is that? Every proper marriage must have a honeymoon, even if it's only three or four days—which is all ours must be, I fear. A very short honeymoon, but we'll make the most of it.' He stripped off the light jacket he had worn for the wedding ceremony and threw it over the back of a chair. Then he poured himself a long drink and dropped ice cubes in it. 'You?'

  Lucie shook her head and he went on enthusiastically, 'We're going to Little Cayman—you know it? The tinier of the two sister islands, and my favourite place. We can catch a flight to the Brac at a quarter to four. Allowing for a link-up, we get to Little Cayman at five o'clock.'

  'I still don't think a honeymoon is necessary—not with a marriage like this one.' She couldn't bring herself to say 'a marriage like ours'. That would seem to join them together, and she needed to keep herself apart, her own person, not his possession.

  She had got his full attention now. 'Well, I think it's very necessary,' he said, eyeing her thoughtfully. 'You're all tensed up, Lucie, you need a break, after all that's happened. We both do. We need to relax. Come on now, pack your things—you won't need much, only the minimum of covering for day and a jacket in case the evenings are cool. I'll get changed and packed myself.' He went into his bedroom, taking his drink with him.