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Zach swung the Roadster into a hidden clearing and jumped out.
‘Here’s the path. Come on, slowcoach! Watch out for the snakes!’
Zach forged ahead through the dense vegetation, occasionally slapping away an errant branch as Millie trotted in his wake. The intense heat prickled at the back of her neck and beneath her breasts as she tuned in to the gentle symphony that accompanied their walk through the rainforest – the call of the doves, hawks and St Lucian orioles mingled with the cicadas, frogs, and trickling water.
They trekked in silence for a while, appreciating the splendour of nature’s diversity. Millie could tell that Zach was happier in these surroundings, mellower, more relaxed. Occasionally, he paused to point out a particular plant or flower, shrub or tree.
‘This one is a White Cedar and this is Mahogany. But can you guess what this is?’
‘No idea.’
‘This tree produces the mace and the nutmeg you probably use every day in your baking. The mace is the lacy golden-brown wrapping which is removed and dried, and the nutmeg is the seed kernel inside.’
Millie fingered the hard, outer shell of the fruit, pulling a branch down to her nostrils and sniffing, but, of course, it didn’t emit the familiar aroma. Every recipe she made requiring a sprinkle of grated nutmeg would now take on a whole new meaning.
When they rounded the next bend in the path, Millie’s jaw dropped. They had arrived at the Diamond Falls where the river tumbled through the sunshine, over a rocky outcrop, producing a kaleidoscope of colours into a pool below.
‘Wow!’
‘Gorgeous, isn’t it?’
‘What makes the waterfall so colourful?’
Millie walked to the edge of the falls as a group of chattering French tourists dutifully followed their tour guide back along a wide pathway to the car park. She reached for her phone and began clicking photographs to send to Jen and Pippa.
‘The stream is laced with volcanic minerals; sulphur, copper sulphate, magnesium, iron, manganese and calcium from the Pitons. Come on. This way!’
Zach branched out in the opposite direction to the tourists along a deserted footpath. After half an hour or so of pleasant, picturesque strolling, the gradient increased sharply, and Millie’s calf muscles screamed at the unfamiliar exertion.
‘Hey, Zach, can we stop for a minute?’ she pleaded, her breath coming in spurts, sweat trickling down between her shoulder blades.
‘It’s just a little further. I promise you it’ll be worth it.’
Another ten minutes’ hard climb and they rounded the corner of a leaf-strewn pathway. As Millie rested her palms on her knees, drawing in gulps of thick balmy oxygen, she raised her head and gaped. The view spread before her was so majestic that her emotions got the better of her and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
They were almost halfway up Gros Piton, with the rich sapphire of the Caribbean Sea sparkling to their left, the glossy rainforest to their right, and nestled in the groove in between were the topsy-turvy terracotta roofs of Soufrière. The lush vegetation encircled the urban development below like a laurel wreath surrounding a rose-coloured jewel. Fishing boats, sleek white yachts, ferries, and old-fashioned clippers dotted the ocean.
A gasp escaped her lips. ‘It’s just so…’
A plethora of words tumbled around in her head, but she discarded each one as inadequate. Her lexicon of admiration had been erased from her memory by the overwhelming beauty in front of her. They stood in appreciative silence for a long time, sipping from a water bottle, until Millie was jolted from her trance by a large bullet of water slapping onto the back of the hand shading her eyes from the sun.
‘Oh, no! It’s almost three o’clock!’ she gasped, ducking her head and shoulders as the habitual bombardment of rain increased in velocity.
‘Come on.’
Zach grabbed her hand and together they lurched, tripped and skidded down a hidden trail until the deluge prevented further advancement. Once again, Millie experienced the questionable pleasure of being drenched through to her underwear. She dragged her hair from her face and flicked it behind her ears. The pungent scent of rotting vegetation caused her throat to constrict and her skin to break out in a ripple of goosebumps.
She stood in front of Zach, her arms by her sides, raindrops dripping from her nose. Laughing, he said, ‘Just another fifty yards, I promise.’
Zach hooked his arm around her waist and, true to his word, within a few moments they had arrived at a tiny wooden hut huddled beneath a canopy of palm trees, with a tattered veranda and a front door painted in sunshine yellow. He dislodged one of the terracotta pots – crammed with pretty pink orchids – to reveal a large silver key which he slotted into the lock, and they tumbled inside out of the rain.
‘What is this place?’
‘It’s a ranger’s cabin. A friend of mine, Mathias, works for the Botanical Gardens. He uses it to shelter from the rain and, on occasion for… well, you know.’
Millie glanced round the one-room shelter. Yes, it was definitely an ideal love nest – two plump leather sofas draped with mohair throws, a woven scatter rug and a pair of intricately carved masks decorating the walls. She giggled as she wondered if the wooden artefacts were some kind of fertility symbols.
She raised her eyes to Zach, intending to mention the artwork, but when she saw the expression on his face her breath caught in her throat. Heat rushed through her body and the shivers rippling up and down her spine had nothing to do with the drop in temperature inside the cabin. Her heart bounced to her toes and back into her ribcage as her brain tried to dissect the reason for her surprise reaction.
