about him … He probably wasn’t a tourist, she decided. There was nothing of the loose-limbed, laid-back sunseeker about him.
Actually, much the same could be said of her right now. She didn’t feel at all touristy. After being cooped up in an aeroplane for almost a dozen hours, followed by a short taxi ride to this port, she was more than ready for the last leg of her journey. At least she hoped this was the last leg. It was already late afternoon, and she really wanted to arrive at the house before nightfall. With any luck her sister, Emma, would be there to greet her. She smiled, a thrill of excitement running through her at the prospect—it would be so good to see Emma again.
Up to now, though, nothing had gone quite to plan—instead of flying directly to the island she’d found herself stranded here, on the verdant, equally lovely tropical island of Martinique, waiting for a ferry to take her across the sparkling blue sea to her final destination.
The people in the queue began to move slowly forward. ‘Ah, looks like we’re boarding at last,’ someone said behind her. ‘Finally!’
It was a male voice. She turned to glance at him. He was a young man—in his mid-twenties, she guessed, much the same as herself. She was twenty-six. He had blond hair and blue eyes, and a ready smile. Dressed for the heat, he wore three-quarter-length shorts and a T-shirt. Clearly he was in a good mood—most likely returning with his friends from a day trip to Martinique. The three young men with him were chatting to one another, lively and exuberant.
He returned her gaze and waved a hand towards the boat. ‘Shall we? I’m William, by the way. William Tempest.’
He looked at her questioningly and she responded in a soft voice, ‘Rebecca … Rebecca Flynn … most people call me Becky.’
‘Hi, Becky. We should be able to get some refreshments on board. Perhaps I could buy you a drink? I’m not hitting on you,’ he hastened to explain. ‘Well, maybe I would in different circumstances. It’s just that I noticed earlier you were looking a bit fed up and I thought maybe you could do with something to cool you down and perk you up—perhaps an iced juice of some sort—they do a good orange and mango mix?’
‘Do they?’ So he’d noticed her wilting. What was it that had given her away? Was it her hot cheeks or the way her curls clung damply to her temples? She should have taken the time to pin her hair back while she was on the plane.
She’d no experience of the facilities on board ferries in the Caribbean, but now she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue in anticipation.
‘A cold drink sounds wonderful. I’d like that.’ She added as an afterthought, ‘This whole thing is a bit of an adventure for me.’
‘Are you here on holiday?’
‘Sort of. More of an extended break, shall we say? Things were getting me down back home and I needed to get away.’
‘Really? I’m sorry. I feel a bit that way, too. I’ve had a break-up with my girlfriend … it was really hard to take. It was a while ago, and I keep trying to put it all behind me, but it’s difficult.’
‘Yes. I know how that feels.’
Together, chatting amiably, they walked the short distance along the quay to the boarding ramp and stepped on to the deck of the boat.
It was strange … She didn’t know him from Adam, but she liked him instantly, in a platonic, unthreatening kind of way. All her usual English reserve seemed to be disappearing fast—melting away in the tropical sunshine.
Perhaps it was the heady atmosphere of the Caribbean beginning to exert its hold on her—or maybe the energetic beat of the music coming from the boat was serving to loosen her up. Whatever the reason, she’d throw all her inhibitions away right now for the chance of downing a long, cold glass of something. Anything.
William looked around. ‘Where do you want to sit? Would you like to be under cover, or do you want to look out over the sea?’
‘Both, I think.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve been stuck on a plane for several hours, so it will be great to move around and feel the fresh air for a bit.’
He nodded, his mouth curving. ‘Sounds great. We can get to know one another—it’ll take about an hour to get to St Marie-Rose.’
He was friendly and open with her, and as they chatted Rebecca was startled to find herself responding readily, a bit like a flower opening up to the sun. Why did she feel so at odds with herself about that? He’d already told her that he was getting over a broken relationship. Would it hurt to talk some more and maybe confide in him in return? He was easygoing and sociable and that was what she needed right now.
‘So what’s been getting you down?’ he asked.
‘Oh, a few things … I was ill, and my boyfriend decided that he couldn’t handle it.’
‘Ouch! That’s a tough one. It must have been difficult for you.’
‘Yes …’
It had been a few months since her relationship with Drew had disintegrated, and what had happened over that time had certainly taken its toll of her … Complications after her appendicitis had added to her problems and left her feeling low, and Drew had been less than supportive. After her appendix had burst, peritonitis had almost killed her, with the poisons in her bloodstream keeping her in the hospital’s Intensive Care Unit for a couple of weeks.
But her problems hadn’t ended there. The doctors told her she might be infertile because of the scar tissue from those complications, and that was when Drew had decided to bow out. She had been devastated, overwhelmed by everything that had happened to her. How could she cope with the possibility of never having children? That question haunted her still.
It had all been a bit of a struggle. She desperately needed a change of scene—a chance to put herself back together again. Wasn’t it time she tried to relax and let her hair down? It could hardly matter what happened here, what she decided to tell William—he was only going to be around for a short time, after all.
She found a seat on one of the benches under the awning and put her bags down on the floor by her feet while he went to fetch the drinks. Padded bench seats were arranged along the deck, facing a central four-sided counter where dusky-skinned youths were busy cutting up all manner of fruits—oranges, melons, passion fruit, limes. There were a couple of urns available for hot drinks, along with juice dispensers and water coolers. She glanced around. There were even potted palms placed at discreet intervals on deck, all adding to the holiday atmosphere.
The man she’d seen earlier had gone to stand by the rail, looking out over the sea. He braced himself, leaning back against a stanchion, as the boat’s engine started up. He glanced her way, watching as William came towards her with a tall glass of iced juice. She couldn’t tell what the man was thinking. His gaze was smoke-dark—brooding, almost. As though he was disturbed to see her with another man. That couldn’t be so, though, could it?
For some reason he bothered her. Perhaps it was because in some way—maybe in the way he stood apart from the others—he reminded her of Drew. Though her ex had never possessed those bone-melting good looks, or that way of looking at the world as if it was his to command.
‘Don’t worry about him.’ William must have seen her cautious glance, and now, as she accepted the drink he handed her, she looked at him quizzically.
‘I
