I’d never heard of Bequia before I discovered Rock Villa, the island’s newest luxury residence, which rises directly out of the rugged hillside like a majestic 10,000-square-foot fortress. I was searching for somewhere to spend a couple of sleepy days unwinding after six fast-paced nights in St Lucia; where I could enjoy the deliciously anti-social seclusion of a private villa, but with none of the chores that might come with it. This villa, a fresh passion project from the family behind the island's famous Bequia Beach Hotel, promised exactly that.

The whole place is a haven of understated luxury, courtesy of interior designers Smith & Butler. A pillared entrance opens onto the central Rock Lounge, where Italian marble tables and soft ivory furnishings are complemented by pale wood ceilings and vintage tropical accents. It's got a feel of old-school Hollywood glamour mixed with clean Scandinavian minimalism – a sweet nod to the owners' Swedish heritage. There are eight en-suite rooms with room for 16 guests, and you can book each individually should you wish, granting you a slice of the good life without need for the whole gang to be present. It’s staffed with a private chef and butler, Asha, who tempts me into an extra glass of wine with her easy Caribbean charm, and ensures I’m reassuringly stocked with snacks at all times.

But to truly understand the appeal of this place, you first have to understand Bequia itself. Pronounced Beck-way, this teeny, seven-square-mile dot in the ocean is the the second-largest island in the Grenadines, yet home to just 5,500 residents. While the buzz amps up towards the end of the year, when I visit at the beginning of June, the place feels blissfully untouched by mass tourism. It is, quite simply, a joy to explore; a visual explosion of colour, where bright turquoise shallows bleed into deep sapphire depths, and a lush carpet of trees creeps up the hillsides interspersed with pastel-painted chattel houses. Even the sandy stretch that fringes the villa couldn’t be sweeter – have you ever heard of a cuter name for a cove than Friendship Beach?

The island has a strong maritime heritage as the region's foremost boat builders, and a unique 19th-century whaling history, first brought over by New England sailors. Walk into the buzzy village-style capital of Port Elizabeth and you will still find descendants of those early shipwrights carving intricate model boats by hand (in 1985, they made one for Queen Elizabeth II, and she came to collect it herself), along with bars like the Whaleboner, where the entrance archway is crafted from genuine whale ribs, in a homage to an island that wears its seafaring soul on its sleeve.

The infinity pool bleeds into sparkling Caribbean seas

So when driver Ellis and I career up the long driveway to Rock Villa in the padded open-air safari car, I find it hard to believe such a modern abode even exists here. It’s certainly a departure from the main hotel’s distinctively nostalgic, retro-chic style, which was thought up by owner Bengt Mortstedt – a former Swedish lawyer and property investor turned "accidental hotelier" – who first fell in love with Bequia's untamed charm during a family sailing trip on New Year's Day in 1993. "Mr B" is still a regular fixture on the estate today, hosting weekly cocktail receptions where he mingles with the guests, sharing his stories with those who’ve made the 45-minute plane hop from Barbados to slip onto this slice of island time.

The kitchen area, where plenty of snacks await at all times

But Rock Villa is its own world. It’s far enough away from the main hotel to feel truly independent, while still just a short walk or shuttle away from its restaurant Bagatelle, beach bar Jack’s, and a soothing spa. Inside feels more like a sophisticated Bond villain's lair than a holiday rental, if said villain had impeccable taste and an appreciation for five-star service. Then there are the views, which beautifully showcase the island’s picturesque azure seas and explosive sunsets from near-enough every angle; and a truly impressive set of amenities comprising absolutely everything you could possibly need for a restorative break, including a spa room, reformer pilates machine, gym, private bar, hot tub, huge infinity pool and a cosy cinema room with plenty of low-slung squashy velvet sofas.

I stayed in the Master Suite – a soothing space outfitted in crisp white and blue, with stellar air conditioning, a cloud-like bed and a bathroom stocked with Elemis products. Sliding back the floor-to-ceiling glass doors each morning, breathing in the warm air, and looking out over endless vistas stretching from the infinity pool to the rolling sea felt like a blessing every time. Then there's the dressing room-come-walk-in-wardrobe, which was just about the same size as my whole bedroom back in London.

The patio is adorned with pretty flowers

Naturally, I wanted to try the wellness offering. While I could have had a massage in the villa, I elected to head to the hotel’s spa instead, where masseuse Wadi expertly teased out all the knots in my shoulders with a practiced hand, before I trotted, revitalised, off to Bagatelle for supper. It’s good to have the choice between the villa and the hotel. The menu at Bagatelle changes every day and I elect, naturally, for the fish of the day, caught right from the island’s shores. Dinner is served to a soundtrack from a live band playing under twinkling lights above an open-air sandy dancefloor as guests chatter. But the private allure of the villa called on the next night, and I stole away for steak and dauphinoise potatoes served up in the villa’s colossal living room, the table facing out towards the sea as the sun dipped low behind the horizon.

Breakfast is served on the patio every morning, and all-day refreshments are a given. A glass of Prosecco in the pool in the morning? No problem. Something really lovely happens between 5pm and 7pm, when heaped bowls of chicken wings and crispy fried prawns arrive as if by magic, with yet more glasses of fizz to accompany. Enjoy with your own crew, or make this the time to get to know any of the villa's other guests. Watching the twilight colours fade over the islands rising up on the horizon, glass in hand, was a particularly lovely moment.

One morning, I wake leisurely to a breakfast spread of pastries, eggs, fruit and toast, before heading out with Ellis for a tour. It takes just two hours from start to finish to traverse the breadth of the island, and he’s easy to chat with as we cruise along in the safari car, a breeze in my hair. Each winding corner is punctuated with more colourful blooms; the orange haze of the Flamboyant trees and the purple shock of bougainvillea blurring against the colourful wooden walls of the homes clinging to the hillsides as we whizz by. Ellis tells me everyone chooses their own colour scheme (his house is green), making each a personalised display of joy. He teaches me about the island’s strong whaling traditions – it’s legal to harpoon up to eight whales a year on Bequia – and about the more sobering history of its plantations. It’s an important and valued counterpart to the rest of my day, which is mostly spent floating in an impossibly clear crystal blue sea, or lying horizontal on a lounger.

On my last day, Ellis drops me at The Sand Bar for lunch, a two-minute hop away. I sit with a cocktail and a plate of fried fish and crispy potato wedges, watching the waves roll onto the sand one last time. I’ve had only two days in Bequia but, by the time it’s time for Ellis, Asha and I to head back to the airport, I feel like I’ve made new friends. Asha hugs me goodbye before I jump onto the plane. “I wish you could stay longer, so I could spoil you some more,” she says. I have to say I agree.