Free Bride in Barbados by Jeanne Stephens Page A

"but we mustn't
shock that elderly lady across the aisle. Try to get some sleep, why
don't you?"
    "Fat chance," he growled, "with you sitting there looking
so beautiful."
    But he pushed his seat back again and closed his eyes, and
Susan followed his example. She didn't doze, however. Her mind was too
busy wondering what Barbados and Travis's plantation would be like.
Would his friends, Kay Harte, for instance, approve of her? It was odd
that, as much as Travis seemed to want a family, he hadn't married
before now, in spite of what he'd told her about being too busy with
his work. She knew there must have been a number of women in his life
before she met him. Ah, well, she thought placidly, she must thank her
luck that he'd stayed single and apparently uncommitted to any other
woman before her, for whatever reason.
    The flight finally came to an end, and Susan waited with
their luggage outside the terminal while Travis claimed his French-made
sports car, which he had left in the airport parking lot, and brought
it around. They drove along a narrow road past green hills and
cultivated plots of sugarcane and yams with the brilliant blue sea
never out of sight. It was as lovely as Susan had imagined, and she
gazed raptly through the car window the whole way, trying to take in
everything.
    There was too much, of course. She could hardly wait until
she could take the car and explore the island on her own while Travis
worked the long hours he had warned her about.
    Evening was coming on as they passed through the narrow,
bustling main street of Bridgetown at a snail's pace. Travis pointed
out the bank in which he held the controlling interest. It was a large
gray structure rising three stories from the street. Along the second
floor in front ran a roofed veranda with white wrought-iron columns and
railing. Above the third story, two square towers rose, their rounded
domes also painted white. The building was impressive and added to
Susan's rapidly growing certainty that she had married an extremely
wealthy man.
    Turning off the main street, they passed Trafalgar
Square, with Lord Nelson's statue at its center, and the Careenage, a
basin used mainly, Travis said, by the quaint and colorful interisland
schooners and motor vessels.
    "Careenage." Susan repeated the word. "I've never heard
that term before. What does it mean?"
    "It's French, from 'careened,' which means to tilt a ship
far enough over so that the bottom can be cleaned."
    Soon they were in the countryside again and turning down a
drive crisscrossed with the long shadows of the palm trees bordering it
on both sides. From the little Travis had told her, Susan had expected
something large, but she was not prepared for the picture-book
graciousness of the old plantation house that sprawled ahead of them.
Its white walls were dazzling in the last of the day's sunlight; green
awnings and a red roof added bold touches. There was a circular section
at the center with rectangular wings extending on either side. The
large lawn in which the house sat was carpet smooth and meticulously
tended.
    "Travis!" Susan gasped. "Why didn't you warn me that it
was so grand?"
    He chuckled. "Words can't do it justice. But you'll soon
discover that it isn't as perfect as it looks. The plumbing is ancient,
for one thing. We'll have to have it replaced within the next year or
two, I'm afraid." He grimaced. "It'll cost a fortune. We're always
fighting to keep ahead of leaks in the roof, too, during the rainy
season. This roof's only five years old, but there are so many eaves
and angles that it's difficult to make it completely waterproof. The
furniture's old, and some of it was very inexpensive even when it was
new. Most of it's solidly built, though, and we'll replace it with
pieces that you want as we can afford it."
    "Who cares about plumbing and roofs and furniture?" Susan
said. "It's beautiful and I love it."
    He gave her a grateful look. "So do I," he said with a
note of earnestness in his