The Velvet Glove Page 2

  'Are you trying to tell me that you'd rather I wasn't here, Nuri? That—that you want me to go?'

  She could not believe that his father knew about his feelings or that he would condone his telling her how he felt, but even though it was only Nuri's opinion it gave her a cold and incredibly lost feeling to be made so suddenly aware of his feelings towards her.

  For eight years she had known he did not altogether approve of her, but she had accepted it as something not to be taken seriously. Now—she felt a flutter of something like panic in her breast as she considered what to do. She was twenty-one years old and should be quite capable of looking after herself, but somehow leaving Baba Refik and this, her home, alarmed her more than she cared to admit.

  She was so preoccupied with the prospect that she caught her breath audibly when Nuri dropped down beside her suddenly and sat with his elbows resting on his knees. His face was in profile to her so that she could see the strong, hawkish nose and the arrogant poise of his head, the thick black lashes that looked so much longer seen from the side. He did not look at her when he spoke either, and that was not like Nuri.

  'Have you thought of how—unconventional your position will be in our home when Halet is no longer here, küçük?' He had never called her child before either, and she was not altogether sure that she liked it, though there was too much else on her mind at the moment to allow her to object to it.

  It hadn't occurred to her at all until he pointed it out to her that there would be anything untoward about her position once Halet was gone, and it should have done, she supposed. The truth was she had become so accustomed to being part of the Kayaman family that she saw herself in no other light; but Nuri was right, of course. With Halet gone she would be a single young woman living in a house alone with two single men, neither of whom was related to her.

  'I—I hadn't thought of that,' she confessed, and her voice sounded so small and uncertain that Nuri turned to her swiftly and reached impulsively for one of her hands, holding it in his large and comforting one for a moment. 'I suppose it will be wrong, won't it, Nuri? I mean, no one will understand like we do—like Baba Refik and the girls.'

  'You do not include me among those who understand?' Nuri asked in a quiet voice, and she hesitated a moment before she answered.

  'I don't know. You have brought the subject up and —well, I thought perhaps you might see it as a good opportunity to get rid of me after eight years.' She laughed, slightly unsteadily because she had never before felt quite as she did at this moment. 'I suppose you've been pretty tolerant, in fact, when I think about it! You already had three sisters, and inflicting you with another, bossy redhaired one was asking a bit much of you, wasn't it?'

  He let go her hand, though rather slowly, almost as if he was reluctant to do so, turning that chiselled profile to her once more. It was evident that he had decided not to commit himself on the matter of tolerating her presence for the past eight years.

  'I am quite certain that both Latife and Bedia will be quite willing for you to stay with them until you marry.'

  'Marry?'

  She stared at him, his matter-of-fact statement bringing a hasty flush to her cheeks, and when he turned his head and looked at her again, she noticed that one black brow registered surprise at her reaction. 'Surely you anticipate marriage before very long?' he suggested.

  'You are quite old enough, Laurette, and it is unthinkable that you should not have a husband to care for you.'

  'But I don't want a husband!' She made the declaration firmly, though with a hint of breathlessness, and once more Nuri's black brows expressed surprise. 'At least, not yet—there's plenty of time to think about getting married.'

  'If you were married the problem of what to do when Halet leaves us would not arise,' he pointed out with chilling reasonableness, and the old familiar feeling reared its head once more as she turned on him, challenging and defensive.

  'It's a pretty drastic solution!'

  His eyes were on her, steady and glitteringly dark, suggesting impatience, as if he found her objections incomprehensible. 'Do you dislike the idea of marriage so much?' he demanded, and Laurette's eyes blazed at him.

  'Do yow?'

  Her knowledge of Turkish was limited, but even so she recognised curses when she heard them, and she thought for a moment that he was going to simply get up and go stalking off. Instead he got to his feet but he stood looking down at her in a way that would have routed a less fiercely independent spirit.

  'It is your viewpoint that is in question at the moment—my marriage plans are my concern!'

  'And mine are my concern!'

  She found it impossible to sit there while he towered over her that way, for it suggested that he had the upper hand, and she would not concede that. So she got to her own feet and stood facing him, a small angry figure with copper-red hair and blazing eyes, trembling like a leaf with the tangled emotions that ran through her.

  Nuri looked down at her still, but now she felt a little less overwhelmed by him, and she could see how hard he was righting to control that fierce temper of his. 'Your marriage is the concern of your family, and since you have no close relatives of your own, you are counted as a member of this household, kizum—take care you remember that!'

  'You've just gone to great pains to remind me that I'm not!'

  Nuri's eyes were like black fire as he looked at her, his straight firm mouth taut with anger. 'You deliberately misunderstand me, Laurette! As far as my father is concerned you are his daughter and he will take the same interest in your settlement as he did with my sisters—we both shall!'

  'And you really think you can marry me off? Just like that?' She tipped back her head and challenged him with her blue eyes, breathing short and angrily through slightly parted lips. 'To some rich American, I suppose, so that you'll be sure I go as far away as possible!'

  At any other time she might have found his fury awesome. His big hands clenched tightly at his sides suggested that he might strike out at any moment, and he held his head high so that he looked at her down that arrogant and hawk-like nose. 'Better to a Turkish husband, you little vixen, so that he may beat some good manners into you!'

  He came striding past her and was out of the room while she still fought to recover her breath, and she spun round at the moment when he closed the door behind him. He did not slam it as some men would have done, but closed it with a controlled quietness that was somehow even more suggestive of violence, and she heard her own breath expelled in a long sound like a sigh.

  It was a surprise to Laurette sometimes to realise that she was much more at home in Turkey than she would be if she went back to Britain. She had spent most of her twenty-one years in Cyprus and Turkey and she was better acclimatised both to the pace of life and the hotter climate. Going to Britain now would be like going abroad for her, which seemed strange when she thought of how very British her father had always considered himself, even after all his years away.

  She looked around the salon, where she sat on the ottoman again since Nuri had gone storming off and left her, and thought how much she would miss the house as well as the family if she was obliged to leave, as Nuri suggested she should.

  It was a very Turkish room, and yet she felt very much at ease there, and it occurred to her for the first time that she was something of a contradictory character. While she had adapted willingly and easily to most things Turkish and actually loved the way of life, she still retained her right to be independent in her behaviour, and would brook no suggestion of control, especially not from someone she considered had no right to exert it.

  She understood and liked the Turkish character while still herself remaining very British in her outlook on most things, and it was little wonder that Nuri found her too complex for him to understand. She was neither Turkish nor yet completely European, and any man could be forgiven for finding the mixture beyond his comprehension.

  The house seemed quiet, and the big salon particularly so now t
hat Nuri had left her—his forceful personality could seem to fill a room when he was in it, and she sat on the pile of big cushions hugging her knees to her chin. She needed time to think since Nuri had presented her with the problem of her own future to solve.

  The salon was restful; it was her favourite room, with its many mirrors reflecting stray glimmers of sunlight from outside and giving the room a softly luminous look. Brightly coloured hanging rugs on three of the walls softened and muffled it, giving one the impression of being in a large, luxurious nest furnished with countless fat and comfortable cushions, as well as a modern suite.

  There were gilt ornaments in plenty decorating the niches and alcoves too, and standing on every small table, with exotic brass lamps hanging from the ornamented ceiling. The windows stood open to a blessedly cool breeze off the water, the shutters fastened back to prevent their obstructing even a breath of it. She didn't see how she could leave this beautiful home she had known for so many years, and yet the way Nuri presented it, there was little else she could do if the strictness of Turkish behaviour was to be observed.

  She should have anticipated it when Halet's betrothal to Hussein was announced, of course, but somehow she had not yet looked beyond the excitement of the coming wedding in a few months' time. She and Halet had always been so close that it seemed impossible that the dearest of her foster-sisters was to be the means of her leaving her home.

  Getting up from the cushions with the grace that long practice had taught her, she walked across to the windows where Nuri had stood and, like him, stood looking out at the gardens. It was peaceful and beautiful and it did not seem possible that soon she must go and leave it. Perhaps she could get somewhere for herself not too far away, where she could still see Baba Refik and the girls—and Nuri too, she supposed; she would miss him as well, she had to admit.

  'Laurette?'

  She turned swiftly to see Halet coming in to the room, and smiled at her affectionately. She would miss Halet very much. Although she was a year or two older than Laurette, she had always seemed to take the role of younger sister. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was much less venturesome and always less sure of herself.

  She was pretty, as her two sisters were, with a soft voice and a graceful way of walking that drew attention from a slightly ungainly figure. Both Latife and Bedia were now frankly plump after two children each, and undoubtedly Halet would be too in a couple of years' time, but she was charming and very feminine and Laurette thought she possibly loved her more than she would have done a true sister, for there had never been any jealousy between them.

  'I thought you were being scolded by Nuri,' Halet confided, 'so I thought it best to stay away until he was gone.' Her innocent-looking dark eyes looked at Laurette curiously. 'Did I hear him go upstairs a moment ago sounding very angry?' she ventured, and Laurette pulled- a wry face.

  'We quarrelled—as always.'

  Halet sighed deeply and shook her head. 'I do wish that you and Nuri could be better friends—it is such a pity.' She looked at her once more with that innocent curiosity in her eyes. 'What did you fight about this time, Laurette?'

  'My getting married, of all things!'

  'Oh, Laurette!' Halet took her hands, holding them tightly in her excitement. 'You are to be married also? Who is it? When is it to be?'

  'No, no, no!' Laurette laughed as she stemmed the tide of excitement, and noticed Halet's look of disappointment. 'It was just a remark of Nuri's—he thinks I should be married and I think it's my concern when and if I marry.'

  'If?' Halet looked concerned, her smooth brow wrinkling anxiously as she stood at the window beside her. 'But of course you will be married, Laurette, it is unthinkable that you would not be.'

  'Which is precisely Nuri's sentiment,' Laurette remarked, and laughed again, a curiously uneasy sound that made Halet frown at her more curiously than ever. 'He's pointed out to me that I can't stay on here after you're married and gone, it wouldn't be right and proper—and he's right, of course. I just don't like his solution.'

  It obviously hadn't occurred to Halet either and she looked quite distressed for a moment. 'Oh, but I am sure that Baba will not like you to go and leave him, Laurette.'

  Shaking her head, serious for all she was half smiling, Laurette looked out of the window, letting the soft warm wind blow on to her cheeks. 'I don't want to leave him either, Halet, but, much as I hate to admit it, Nuri is right. I must find somewhere during the next few weeks.'

  'You could come to Hussein and me,' Halet told her, then blinked in realisation when Laurette shook her head. 'Oh no, I suppose that is not a good idea.'

  Laurette hugged her for a moment, grateful for her eagerness to take her in. 'I don't think Hussein would take kindly to the idea of sharing his bride so early in his marriage, do you?'

  Halet blushed and shook her head, looking down at her hands while she spoke. 'Is there no one that you would like to marry, Laurette?'

  'Not at the moment.' Laurette watched the breeze stir among the pink tamarisk, and gazed into the distance without seeing anything at all. 'Sooner or later I shall fall in love with someone, I suppose, and then I'll marry him—if he asks me, of course, there's always that consideration.'

  She smiled as she turned, but Halet was taking it all quite seriously. 'Oh, but of course he will want to marry you, Laurette! You are a very beautiful girl, many men will want to marry you.'

  'One will do!' She smiled to let Halet know she was teasing her, then walked back into the room and sank down again on to the cushions of the ottoman, curling her legs up under her as she so often did. 'He'll probably have to get through one of Nuri's interrogations first too, so he'd better be pretty sure of himself!'

  'Oh, Laurette!' Halet sat down beside her, her dark eyes so plainly troubled that Laurette wondered why she was taking it all so seriously. 'He means it only for your own good, you must know that—as he and Baba had the well-being and happiness of all of us at heart in the matter of marrying men who suit us. Latife and Bedia both love their husbands, and I could not wish for anyone but Hussein for my husband.'

  'You love him, don't you, Halet?'

  It was almost a plea, asking for confirmation that Halet was not simply making the best of what she had to do, but she need have had no doubts, for Halet's blushes were confirmation enough. She had seen them together too. Seen the way their eyes met and the way Halet's were hastily lowered, but not before they had passed the message that Hussein wanted to see. The way their hands would sometimes touch as if by accident, while Refik Kayaman's benevolent eye pretended not to see.

  'Oh, yes,' Halet said softly, 'I love him. I wish that you could find someone to love as much, my sister.'

  Laurette got to her feet again, curiously restless since that disturbing conversation with Nuri had put hitherto vague prospects to the forefront of her mind. She walked across to the window again and looked out, a strange fluttering sense of anticipation in her stomach.

  'Oh, I will, one day,' she promised.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LAURETTE always enjoyed these gatherings, where her two familiar worlds mingled freely and she could feel at home in both of them. Furedin Ocak, Latife's husband, was a very social man and liked entertaining, a habit he had picked up while living in Europe for some years. They were always enjoyable, though rather more formal than she remembered her father's parties being, and the company was always well mixed.

  This evening there was a German business friend and his wife, and a French student as well as one or two British acquaintances whom Furedin had met during the course of his work. He held a fairly responsible position with the Kayaman family firm, but he was much less traditionally minded than either his wife's father or her brother, though he got along well with

  Halet and her fiance were there too, although Laurette could not see them at the moment, and so was Nuri. It was a strange fact that Nuri often came with her when Latife and Furedin entertained and Laurette was invited. She had
never yet determined why he decided to escort her when she was perfectly happy to go alone or with Halet and Hussein. Possibly it was simply because he had the Turkish dislike of a woman going anywhere unaccompanied where there was to be mixed company.

  It was mostly to avoid Nuri that she had come outside, although he was an attractive enough escort to earn her the envious glances of the German businessman's plump and handsome wife. He had frowned over her taking another glass of raki when she had already had as much as she could sensibly cope with.

  Inevitably they had disagreed about it, and a discreet but impassioned argument had ended when she walked off and left him, taking another drink as a gesture of defiance as she made her way to the garden door. In a way she knew she was seeking refuge as well as fresh air by coming out into the gardens, for her triumph was already turning sour, overshadowed by the knowledge that yet again she had quarrelled with him when there was no real cause to.

  Latife and her husband had a house outside Antalya itself, built in the hills where the wind was cooler and the Bey mountains made a breathtaking backdrop to the fertile and beautiful countryside. The sea was near too, below steep, impressive cliffs that soared above sandy beaches and dropped shimmering falls of clear water from the mountains into the turquoise ocean.

  The moon was a perfect Turkish crescent in a velvet dark sky and, combined with the scent of the magnolias that grew in profusion, it had a headying effect as she walked along the path from the house. Or perhaps it was not entirely the moon and the magnolias that made her feel so strangely lightheaded; maybe Nuri had been right and she should not have had that last glass of raki.

  Her cheeks were slightly flushed, but the warmth in the salon could have accounted for that, and she was not yet prepared to admit that she was anywhere near as inebriated as Nuri's argument had implied—she was simply a little lightheaded, nothing more.