The other man—older by about twenty years—is holding a small, round tray with two coconut drinks bearing festive umbrellas.
“Welcome to Marjorie Island, Mr. and Mrs. Belton,” he says in a lilting Caribbean accent as he offers the tray. “I’m the manager, Samuel. This young man is my son, Thomas.”
I take a coconut drink and hand it to Barrett, then grab the other. Because we’re honeymooners, I put my arm around her waist and pull her in close to my side as I smile at the man and his son.
Barrett, knowing we have to play the part of an in love and recently married couple, slides her arm around my waist in return before saying, “Thank you. We’re so excited to be here.”
Samuel nods, tucking the tray under his arm. “Now, if you’ll follow me… I’ll take you up to the main house and show you around. Thomas will bring up all your luggage.”
“You were told we wanted absolute privacy, correct?” I ask.
Eyes flashing with amusement, he grins broadly. “Of course. We’ll be leaving as soon as we get you settled in.”
“And just how will you be leaving?” I ask curiously.
“My other son, William, will swing by and get us. He’s a fisherman. In fact, he’s more than willing to drop off any fresh catches to you any day you wish. You only need to let me know.”
“That’s very kind.” Barrett flashes a smile.
“But we’ll most likely catch plenty of our own fish, honey,” I say pointedly, giving her a squeeze.
Samuel tips his head back and laughs, waving a playful finger. “I understand completely, Mr. Belton. You want privacy on your honeymoon. For this, I cannot fault you.”
With a wink at the man, I motion at Barrett with the hand holding the coconut cocktail. “I mean, look at this woman… Can you blame me?”
I want to laugh when I see Barrett blush, because she should know this is necessary banter for our ruse. Yet, it’s clear she’s affected all the same. Of course, I wasn’t lying about my appreciation of her looks. She’s a stunning woman, so it only made sense to point it out.
Barrett curves her body into mine, then slaps me playfully on the chest, deciding to add her own flare. “Baby… stop. You’re embarrassing me.”
Chuckling, I lean down—being completely spontaneous and a little self-serving—to give her a quick but soft kiss on the mouth. When she almost jerks away from me in surprise, I hold her tighter in warning.
As I return my attention to Samuel, I see him watching us with twinkling eyes, clearly a romantic at heart.
“Let’s head up to the house,” he slyly suggests. “Get you settled so we can get out of your hair.”
He glances at his son, who is carefully pulling out each bag and setting them gently on the dock. “You have this under control, Thomas?”
“Yes, sir,” he replies in the same carefree accent.
Barrett and I follow Samuel onto a covered winding path that leads up to the main house. The trees and foliage are so dense it provides almost complete shade as we traverse the walkway lined by tropical bushes laden with fragrant flowers.
The path comes out into a small open courtyard with a wide porch. The house was built with a dark wood, but it has so many large, un-paned windows and an open design, which will allow a clear view through to the rear of the house and the blue waters on the other side of the island.
We follow Samuel in, and Barrett gasps over the opulent beauty. Gleaming blond wooden floors—probably maple—and plush teak furniture with overstuffed linen cushions first catch my eye. When I spot a rectangular gas firepit in the room’s center, I feel my brow crinkle as I wonder why anyone would want to start a fire in the tropics.
Samuel points to the walls along the perimeter, which are basically framed floor-to-ceiling glass. “All the walls slide to open to the outside. I highly recommend opening them in the morning and evening hours as the breeze is spectacular.”
We follow him around a corner into a huge kitchen of chrome and glass. “The refrigerator and pantries are well stocked. The phone on the counter reaches me directly. I can bring you groceries as often as you need.”
Glancing at Barrett, I see her slowly taking it all in with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, her expression portraying this might be the most wondrous place she’s ever seen.
Traversing up a short staircase, we follow Samuel into another wing. The master bedroom dominates, and it’s a wonder for sure. It’s massive with a four-poster king-sized bed smack in the center, which is covered with mosquito netting.
To the right is the master bath, but there are no walls closing it off. An open shower and tub are on a slightly raised dais with a beautiful double vanity along the wall. There’s a small door, which I assume is the water closet.
Astonishingly, there’s an indoor pool inside the huge bedroom. It’s probably only fifteen-feet wide, but it’s long, rectangular, and leads directly onto the balcony under the glass-paneled wall.
Samuel walks over to the glass wall that leads onto a patio. When he presses a button, the wall starts sliding panel by panel into recessed pockets until it completely disappears.
“Oh, wow,” Barrett murmurs.
It’s obvious Samuel takes immense pride in this feature. “Visitors to Marjorie Island tend to spend a great deal of time in this room.”
“I imagine so,” she replies as she wanders onto the balcony. It’s furnished with a beautiful set of furniture and another gas fire pit.
“Mr. Murdock said you will be staying here for an extended period,” Samuel says.
“A few weeks.” I keep the answer purposefully vague.
“Well, we normally send someone in daily to clean, change the linens, and replace the towels. Would you like that?”
“Actually,” I reply hesitantly, eyes on Barrett as she leans onto the balcony railing and admires the blue waters. “I think we’ll be just fine on our own.”
“Of course, sir,” he replies with a half bow. “But like I said… I’m a phone call away if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Samuel,” I reply just as Thomas comes in with the first armful of our luggage.
It takes another twenty minutes for Samuel to show us around and Thomas to unload the boat. I tip them each a hundred, for which they’re extremely grateful. My hope is the generosity will translate into discretion. When we were in the kitchen, I’d checked out the food supplies and pantry. We easily have enough to keep us well fed for a few weeks.
I walk with the men to the docks, leaving Barrett to the lunch she insisted on making. The three of us make small talk until Samuel’s other son comes to pick them up. After they leave, I give the boat a once over, making sure it’s secure before heading back up to the main house.
Barrett put together a salad with what looks to be grilled chicken. She certainly didn’t have time to cook it, so when Samuel said the provisions were well stocked, he hadn’t been kidding.
It’s quiet as we eat, and I have no clue what Barrett’s thinking. My mind is on getting the security equipment set up before the sun goes down.
So, it startles me when she says, “You should take the master suite.”
Furrowing my brow, I lift my head. “Excuse me?”