Bride in Barbados (14 page)

"Harris Sennett must have been a sly old codger to have
pulled the wool over your eyes so completely. It's a characteristic
that seems to run in the family."

For a moment she saw something like grief in his eyes, and
then it was gone. "I'm sorry, Susan. There's no excuse for my not
telling you about the will before we married."

"Of course there is. If you
had
,
there never would have
been
a marriage."

"Can't we try to put that behind us now and—"

"I don't believe this, Travis!" she exploded. "What do you
take me for? I may have been deluded for a while, but I'm not stupid.
If you really want to keep your inheritance, you'd better agree to a
quick divorce and find another patsy before it's too late."

He half rose from his chair as Amii came into the room
with the main course. He sat down abruptly and the maid eyed him
curiously. When Amii was gone, he said, "There will be no divorce."

"Fine," said Susan sharply. "Nor will there be an heir. I
happen to have control over that."

He stared at her, his eyes swimming with anger. "There's
always adoption."

She gasped. "No reputable agency would give you a child
without my consent. What kind of environment would this be? And if you
think I won't make my opposition known, you're dead wrong."

"There are ways," he stated grimly.

She gave him a contemptuous look and turned her attention
to her meal. After some moments, he said, "We're invited to a dinner
party tomorrow evening. Jonathan Wicksham, a man I've known for a
number of years, is giving it."

"You can make my apologies."

"You're going with me. The party is in our honor." His
mouth twisted wryly. "A little celebration for the happy newlyweds."

"I'm not the hypocrite you are," she told him. "I don't
think I can play the adoring wife."

"You will," Travis said. "If you're not ready to go by
eight o'clock tomorrow night, I'll dress you myself and carry you to
the car. We're going to start appearing in public together, and we will
present a united front. Don't oppose me in this, Susan."

"Or what?" she inquired, trembling. "You'll beat me into
submission?"

He merely stared at her with disdain and began to talk
about the cane harvest. Susan remained stonily silent for the remainder
of the meal, and when Amii came in with dessert, she shook her head and
left the table.

After Travis's warning, she gave very little thought to
staying away from Jonathan Wick-sham's party. She had heard the
stubbornness in Travis's tone and believed he would force her to go if
she balked. She might kick and scream, but she shrank from playing out
a scene like that with him. She preferred being ready at eight the next
evening in an appropriate dress of pale blue summer crepe, her hair
freshly shampooed and brushed back into a chic coil secured with
pearl-studded combs, so that she could face Travis and his friends with
dignity.

On the drive into Bridgetown, Travis told her that
Jonathan Wicksham was a wealthy widower with financial interests on the
island. She was prepared to dislike the man, along with all of Travis's
other friends, but when he turned out to be a charming, white-haired
gentleman in his late fifties who gave her an effusive, and clearly
sincere, welcome, she found herself warming to him.

Jonathan's home was a stately old mansion enclosed by a
high stone wall and furnished with lovely French and Italian antiques.
The other guests had already arrived, and Susan and Travis were
immediately surrounded. Travis seemed perfectly at ease as he
introduced her, his arm around her waist possessively. She thought,
What a consummate actor he is!

As cocktails were being served in the huge, chandeliered
living room, Kay Harte sat down beside Susan. "Travis tells me you've
been under the weather. Nothing serious, I hope."

Susan searched her face for signs of smugness or gloating,
but Kay's brown eyes looked directly into hers with an openness that
she did not think could be feigned. "Only a cold."

"It's probably because your system hasn't adjusted to our
climate yet. The humidity is oppressive at times—especially
to newcomers. You'll get used to it."

Not if I have my way, Susan thought. She still hoped that
Travis would agree to a divorce before very long. She saw him watching
her uneasily from across the room, probably wondering what she was
saying to Kay, and realized that she could make him more uncomfortable
in public than in private. His insistence that they be seen together
was bound to put him under a strain.

She smiled brightly at Kay, feeling Travis's eyes still on
her. "I'm sure you're right. Tell me, do you have any new merchandise
since my visit to the boutique?"

"I received a shipment of evening dresses yesterday. You
must come in soon before they're all picked over."

Susan chatted with Kay until it was time to go in for
dinner, pretending to be engrossed in their talk about the latest
styles from Paris. When Jonathan Wicksham appeared to ask for the honor
of escorting her to table, Susan accepted. Seated on Jonathan's right,
with Travis between Kay and another woman at the other end of the large
table, Susan smiled and flirted openly with her host throughout the
long meal.

By the time they left the table, Travis's face was tight
and his glance, whenever she met it, was fuming.

Susan returned to the living room on Jonathan's arm and
sat down with him in a private corner. Other conversational groups
formed about them and spilled over into adjoining rooms. As the evening
progressed, Susan was never unaware of the close watch Travis was
keeping on her, and she laughed and flirted even more. Eventually, she
became aware that some of the other guests were also watching her and
Jonathan with raised eyebrows.

"You have a lovely home," Susan said, looking into her
host's light gray eyes.

"Yes, isn't it? It's very old and had been allowed to
deteriorate lamentably before I purchased it five years ago. I've tried
to restore it to its former beauty—with a few modern
additions, of course."

Susan glanced about the gracious living room. "You've done a marvelous job. Are you in the decorating
business?"

"Not as a profession. I've studied all that I could find
about the architecture and decor of the finest early Barbadian homes in
order to make my restoration here authentic, though." He smiled warmly
at her. "I'm flattered that you approve of what I've done. Of course,
Travis has another fine example of the old great houses."

"Yes," Susan murmured, "it's a beautiful place."

"Will you be doing any redecorating?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, if you decide to and I can be of any help to you,
don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Jonathan. I'll remember that." She accepted a
glass of champagne from a tray offered by a uniformed maid. "So, you're
not in the decorating business. What
do
you do?"

"I'm semiretired now. I have investments in various
enterprises here and in other places in the Caribbean. Overseeing them
doesn't take up a great deal of my time, however. How are you occupying
yourself since coming to Barbados?"

"I'm reading about the history of your island. Next I
intend to explore the places I've read about."

"Perhaps you will allow me to accompany you on some of
your jaunts?"

Susan sipped the excellent champagne and smiled at him.
"I'd be delighted for your company. Give me a ring when you have a free
day." She glanced aside to see Travis bearing down on them.

"Jonathan, thank you for your hospitality." Travis extended his hand to the other man, who was getting
to his feet. "I'm afraid we have to be leaving now. Susan has been a
little unwell the past few days, and I don't want her to become
overtired."

Susan set her glass aside and got to her feet to clasp
their host's hand. "Thank you, Jonathan. I can't think when I've
enjoyed myself more than I have tonight." She looked directly at Travis
as she said this.

Then he was gripping her arm and they were crossing the
room, to be stopped several times by other guests who said they were
pleased to have met Susan and promised that the Sennetts would be
receiving more invitations soon.

Susan managed to reply to one and all graciously but, by
the time she and Travis were in the car, her face felt stiff from so
many false smiles.

Instead of starting the motor immediately, Travis gripped
the steering wheel and said through clenched teeth, "I could kill you."

"Spoken like a devoted husband," Susan said, her tone as
grim as his own.

"I never saw such a sickening display in my life!"

Susan glanced coldly at his rigid profile. "Whatever are
you talking about?"

He seemed to be trying to break the steering wheel in two.
"Is that your idea of revenge, flirting with Jonathan Wicksham all
evening under my nose? You acted like a—cheap floozy."

"But, Travis," she said with acid sweetness, "I was merely
being nice to one of your friends. Isn't that what you wanted me to do?"

"Jonathan Wicksham is no friend of mine— not
after tonight, at any rate." He let go of the wheel and turned toward
her. His eyes glowed with a dangerous fire in the shadowed planes of
his face.

"That's between you and Jonathan, but I'll choose my own
friends."

Roughly, he reached out and grabbed her arms. "You
little—" His face was cold above hers, his eyes hard. She
stared at him and began to struggle. His head came down, and his mouth
took hers in a cruel, possessive kiss, grinding the tender skin inside
her mouth against her teeth.

She jerked her head back and a dull pain shot through her
neck. She choked with impotent fury. The sound of their heavy breathing
was loud in the car. "Let me go, Travis," she said in a low, breathless
voice, "or I'll start screaming. Some of your friends are coming out of
the house now. Do you want them to see the newlyweds brawling?"

A muscle alongside his mouth jerked, betraying his banked
rage. He let her go, started the engine and slammed the car into gear.
Neither of them spoke during the drive and, as soon as the car had
stopped at the house, Susan shoved her door open, stepped out and ran
up the front steps.

In her room, the chair once again wedged beneath the knob,
she sat down on the bed and tried to stop the trembling of her limbs.
She despised Travis, longed to hit him, hurt him, until her fury had
been released. Yet part of her seething anger was directed inward, at
herself, because for a brief moment when he was kissing her she had
felt that familiar, awful weakness. She sensed that if his friends had
not come outside, if he had not stopped that brutally passionate kiss,
something in her would have been ignited and he would have proved his
mastery over her once more. Above all else, that must not happen now,
or she would lose whatever bargaining power she had with him.

Her breathing steadier, she undressed and got into bed. So
he thought he could overcome her resistance, did he? He thought he
could shame her, destroy her pride, force her to bear his child and go
on with a life together just as he had planned. Susan tossed restlessly
on her bed. Because of the ease with which he had convinced her to
marry him, he no doubt thought her a delicate, spineless female who
could not stand up under the force of his will. He'd find out
otherwise. Oh, yes, he surely would find out!

She had not even
begun
to make his
life unbearable. But tonight she had seen the path she must take to
bring him to his knees, begging for a divorce.

Two days later, when Jonathan Wicksham telephoned to ask
her to go for a drive about the island, she agreed with alacrity, then
spent an hour making herself as attractive as possible. She wore a
white batiste sundress with wide lace inserts banding the full skirt,
white high-heeled spaghetti-strap sandals and dangling white hoop
earrings that were exposed provocatively whenever she tossed back her
long, silver-blond hair.

At three, as she left the house, she called to Mala not to
wait dinner on her, since she had no idea when she would be home.
Jonathan handed her into the back seat of a black Rolls Royce and got
in beside her. He gave directions to his driver, then settled against
the plush upholstery to run his eyes over her.

"You look incredibly beautiful—like a carefree
young nymph."

She tucked her hand through the bend of his elbow. "Thank
you, Jonathan. Where are you taking me?"

"I thought we'd start with Sam Lord's Castle. You look as
if you belong in a castle."

She smiled and relaxed in the comfortable seat. "I haven't
run across it in my reading. Tell me about it."

"Alas, it's become a resort hotel in recent
years—but very posh, one of the nicest and most expensive on
the island. Of course, it was never a real castle. Actually, it's a
Georgian mansion built by the notorious buccaneer Samuel Lord who,
legend has it, used to hang lanterns in the coconut trees along a rocky
stretch of shoreline. Ship captains mistook them for the lights of
Bridgetown and crashed on the reef. Then Sam helped himself to their
cargo. He became a very wealthy man."

"You almost sound as if you admire him," said Susan with a
chuckle.

"I admire enterprise in anyone, not that I approve of
Sam's method of making his way in the world. I do approve of his taste
for the finer things in life, however. I studied his mansion and the
furnishings closely when I was restoring my own house. The Castle
possesses many priceless antiques—furniture, paintings,
silver, china. And wait until you see the ornate stucco work on the
ceilings. One of them is a copy of a ceiling in Windsor Castle."

During the drive, he pointed out a few other old mansions
that had once been plantation great houses, like the one on the Sennett
Plantation. It was evident that he knew a great deal about Barbados and
its early settlers.