But there was only one way to find out and, gritting her teeth, she opened her eyes and rolled over.
Beside her the bed was empty. And not just empty. The sheet and pillowcase were perfectly smooth. Unless Malachi had slept several inches above the mattress, he hadn’t slept there at all.
Her heart gave a twitch as she noticed a paper rose on the pillow beside her. Unfolding it, she saw that it was a note from Malachi, written in his familiar bold, cursive script.
Sweetheart,
I’m sorry I didn’t wake you last night, only I thought you needed to sleep. I’ve got a couple of problems at work to sort out, but breakfast is all laid out so help yourself to what you want.
Terry is dropping round this morning, so if you need anything else ask him.
Malachi
PS—While I remember, the security pin is 2106. You’ll need it to open any doors or windows. You shouldn’t have a problem remembering it!
She read it again, and then twice more. Reading between every line, letter and punctuation mark. But the words stayed stubbornly the same, and finally she dropped the note onto the sheet beside her.
Of course she would remember the pin number. It was their wedding anniversary. Her mouth thinned. No doubt he’d chosen it to rub in the fact that this trip was a travesty of the honeymoon they might have had, had she not walked out on him. So much for the caring, sharing Malachi of last night.
Frowning, and suddenly feeling as restless as her thoughts, she pushed the sheet off. Rolling out of bed, she padded across the floor into the wet room.
As she stood under the warm spray of water, snippets of yesterday’s lunchtime conversation with Malachi kept popping into her head, each one seeming to contradict the one before. It was so confusing. She couldn’t seem to get a clear picture of what he’d said. It was almost as though she’d been talking to several different versions of the same man. But who was the real Malachi King? And how could she have been married to a man she knew so little about?
Then again, what did any of that matter now? He wasn’t her concern any more.
Wrapped in a large fluffy towel, she walked back into the bedroom and gazed out of the window. It was another glorious day and it really was the perfect honeymoon location.
She lifted her chin. In another life, with another man, it might be, she told herself defiantly. But this was just a business trip. However, it was also probably going to be the only holiday she would ever spend on a private Caribbean island. So from now on she was going to make the most of every moment.
Selecting a new plum-coloured bikini, she covered it with a short crocheted dress—another recent purchase—and, pushing her feet into a pair of brightly coloured beaded sandals, did a twirl in front of the mirror. Glancing at her reflection, she gave a small, satisfied smile before turning and heading downstairs.
There was no sign of Malachi in the kitchen, but breakfast was indeed laid out on the wood-topped counter and, stomach rumbling, she picked out an almond croissant just as there was a knock at the front door.
Her first stupid thought was that it was Malachi. But why would he knock at his own door? And then, remembering his note, she realised it must be Terry. Feeling suddenly shy, she walked hesitantly into the hallway and pulled down on the handle.
Nothing happened.
‘Sorry, Miss Farrell...’ Terry’s voice floated through the door. ‘You need the code.’
‘Oh, yes, of course. I forgot,’ she said, hastily punching her wedding date into the keypad and mentally cursing Malachi for his malicious choice of number.
Her irritation was forgotten, though, as she saw Terry’s broad smiling face beaming down at her.
‘Good morning, Miss Farrell! And how are you today?’
Taking his hand, she smiled back at him. ‘I’m fine, Terry. Thank you.’
‘I saw Mr King this morning and he told me to drop in and make sure you have everything you need.’
‘I do—but while I remember, would you please thank Leonda for the wonderful food?’
Terry grinned. ‘I will, Miss Farrell. She’s real happy, having you and Mr King stay for all this time. Normally he’s only here long enough to read the morning paper—which reminds me: Mr King asked me to drop off today’s newspapers.’ Reaching down, he picked up a bag. ‘There’s some magazines in there too. Let me put them inside for you, Miss Farrell.’
Inside the kitchen, he glanced out of the window and up at the sky.
‘Weather’s looking fine. We might even get some turtles next week.’
‘There are turtles?’ Addie said excitedly. ‘Do they come into the lagoon?’