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Mel gazed entranced as the deep cobalt sea beneath changed colour to a paler blue. The curving shoreline was fringed with a clear reef line, changing the colour of the sea yet again, turquoise in the lee of the little bays, with foam from the ocean swell catching on the rocks of the reef.
Could this really be happening? Could she really be gazing out over the western Atlantic, flying in a plane and descending to a subtropical, reef-fringed island far below?
She’d barely had time to say goodbye to Sarrie, her face flushed and her eyes as bright as sapphires with excitement as she’d seized what Nikos was offering her. And now here she was, Nikos beside her, as the plane descended to the tiny island below.
She could see houses and gardens and palm trees now, closer and closer, and then there was the tarmac of the runway and they were touching down.
‘We’re here!’ she exclaimed.
Nikos grinned. She was reacting like a kid, but he could see why. Hell, he was pretty damn ecstatic himself. Here he was, his hopes utterly fulfilled, with Mel beside him, coming away on holiday with him—and she was everything he’d remembered about her. Even more beautiful... His gaze softened as it skimmed over her.
Deplaning was swift, and so was Immigration.
‘It’s so British,’ exclaimed Mel, looking at the large portrait of the Queen that graced the immigration hall.
‘It is British.’ Nikos smiled. ‘An Overseas Territory—the last outpost of Empire. But most visitors are Americans, because it’s so close to the Atlantic seaboard. You can get here from New York in a couple of hours—short enough for a weekend.’
When they left the small airport building a chauffeured car was waiting for them. Mel spent the journey with her face pressed almost to the window, gazing at the scenery as they left the airport and started to head south.
‘It will take a good forty minutes or so to reach the hotel, and we should get a good sunset there—the hotel is right on the beach,’ Nikos told her.
He was thinking ahead rapidly. With jet lag, and Mel not being used to dealing with it, she would probably need an early night. He’d booked adjoining rooms at the hotel because he didn’t want to rush her, or appear crass, and he knew—reluctantly—that a romantic evening tonight might not be on the cards.
He continued with his tour-guide speech. ‘We’re bypassing the capital, Hamilton, although the old capital, St George’s, is a must-see while we’re here. It’s one of the oldest European settlements in the New World. Most of the island south of Hamilton is covered by villas, as the land mass is so small here, but there are botanical gardens, and a few small agricultural plots. Of all things, Bermuda is famous for its onions.’
Mel laughed. ‘It’s all so incredibly pretty,’ she said, gazing out over the stone-built houses, many of them painted in pastel shades of pink and pale green and yellow, set in lush tropical gardens with palm trees, hibiscus and vivid bougainvillaea. ‘The houses have funny roofs—sort of stepped tiles.’
‘It’s to catch rainwater and channel it down into underground cisterns,’ Nikos explained. ‘There are no rivers here—the island is volcanic in origin, and the big harbours to the west are the remnants of an ancient caldera. So rainwater is essential. The island is lush, but the rainy season is only for a few months in the winter. Overall, the island is very fortunate. There are occasional hurricanes, but by and large it’s clement all year round.’
Mel glanced back at him. ‘Shakespeare is said to have used it as his inspiration for Prospero’s magical island in The Tempest,’ she said.
‘Maybe he did. It was known to Europeans by then, and St George’s was settled early in the seventeenth century. It was a dangerous place, though—the surrounding reefs are full of the wrecks of unfortunate ships.’ He quirked an eyebrow at Mel. ‘Do you fancy trying diving while we’re here?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Can we?’
His smile warm and embracing. ‘Mel, we can do anything and everything while we’re here. This is our time together, and I really, really want you to have the time of your life.’
He did, too. It would be a joy and a pleasure to give her the holiday of her dreams—and he would take pleasure in her pleasure. Take pleasure—oh, such pleasure—in her altogether. Mel in his arms, his embrace, his bed...
Right now, life was very sweet indeed. This was set to be a great holiday—
* * *
‘Oh, this is so beautiful.’
Mel’s exclamation came from the heart. Sun was pouring over the breakfast terrace at the hotel, dazzling on the azure sea beyond. Palm trees waved in a deliciously light breeze, and canvas parasols shaded the breakfast tables.
